She’d been almost relieved at the excuse to see him again, despite her fine talk about them never meeting again. She was angry, for sure. But she was also… enthralled.

Ella swallowed, her throat scratchy, as she confronted the truth. She wanted Donato Salazar as she’d never wanted any man. Her skin felt too tight, her chest too full.

Donato stroked one finger along her palm and she gasped as pleasure rocketed through her.

‘Tell me you feel it too,’ he purred.

Ella bit back a groan of despair. She was out of her depth. She’d never been good at flirtation. Suddenly she didn’t care about pride or keeping up an image. This was about survival—and she felt as if she was going under for the third time.

‘What do you want from me, Donato? I don’t play these games.’

‘I don’t play games either. Not about this.’

His face was grim, the hint of teasing erased from features that looked pared back and intense. He swallowed, and something within her eased at the visible sign that he wasn’t totally in control.

Suddenly he stepped back, releasing her hand, and cool air wafted between them.

‘What happens next is up to you.’

His heavy-lidded look was both a challenge… and an invitation.

Growing up near the beach, ANNIE WEST spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasising about gorgeous men and their love-lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at annie@annie-west.com or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

Seducing

His Enemy’s

Daughter

Annie West

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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This is my 25th Mills & Boon® novel, and the thrill of creating these stories hasn’t diminished.

It has actually increased, because now I hear from readers from all around the world who enjoy them.

So this one is for you—all the readers who’ve taken time to pick up an Annie West story.

And especially for those who have enjoyed them and taken the time to share that.

Thanks, too, to my lovely editor, Carly, my wonderfully supportive family, my dear writing friends—you know who you are, so take a bow—and to Ale Snape Li for helping with the Spanish!

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘OF COURSE YOU’LL do it. You know you will.’ Reg Sanderson paused in the act of pouring a double whisky to fix his gimlet stare on his daughter. As if he could bend her to his will, like he had years ago.

Ella shook her head, wondering how any man got to be so caught up in his own importance that he didn’t notice the world had altered. She’d changed in the years since she’d walked out. Even Fuzz and Rob had changed lately, but their father hadn’t realised.

He was too focused on his business machinations. Except they were no longer just business. His latest scheme was an outrageous mix of commercial and personal.

No wonder Fuzz had run. Felicity Sanderson might be flighty and spoiled, as only the favourite child of a very rich man could be, but she was no fool.

‘Don’t be absurd.’ Ella stared her father down, ignoring his razor-sharp glare. It had taken years of practice to stand tall against his brutal behaviour but it came naturally now. ‘This is nothing to do with me. You’ll have to sort it out yourself.’

Who’d have thought Reg Sanderson would come cap in hand to his forgotten middle child, the one he’d ignored for so long?

Except there’d been nothing cap in hand about his bellowing phone call, demanding she come to his harbourside home instantly because her sister Felicity was about to destroy her life.

‘Of course you’re involved,’ he roared, then caught himself, pausing to swallow a slug of alcohol. ‘You’re my only hope, Ella.’ This time his tone was conciliatory, almost conspiratorial.

Ella’s hackles rose, tension clamping her belly. Her father shouted whenever he didn’t instantly get his way. But it was when he pretended to be on your side that you really needed to beware.

‘I’m sorry.’ She bit her lip, reminding herself there was no need for her to apologise. Yet ancient habits died hard. She lifted her chin. ‘It’s a crazy idea and even if it weren’t I couldn’t fill in for Felicity. I’m not—’

‘Pah! Of course you can’t hold a candle to your sister. But with a makeover and some coaching you’ll do.’

Ella stood tall. Once upon a time his constant references to the many ways she didn’t measure up to her older sister—in looks, grace, vivacity, charm, the ability to throw on anything and look like a million dollars—had been the bane of her life. Now she knew life held more important things than trying, fruitlessly, to live up to his expectations.

‘I was going to say I’m not interested in getting to know any of your business cronies, much less marrying one.’

Ella shuddered. She’d escaped her awful father in her teens and never looked back. This man her father so wanted to do business with would be in the same mould: grasping, selfish, dishonest. She’d met his associates before.

‘I’m sure if you explain the situation he’ll understand.’ She got up from the white leather lounge, retrieved her shoulder bag and turned towards the door.

‘Understand?’ Her father’s voice cracked on the word, transfixing Ella. Despite his volatile temperament, she’d swear it was the closest he’d come to real emotion in years. Even when her mother died he’d shed only crocodile tears.

‘Donato Salazar isn’t the sort to understand. You don’t realise how badly I need him. I suggested marriage to cement our business ties and he agreed to consider it.’ Her father’s tone made it clear what an honour that was. This from a man who viewed himself as the acme of Sydney business and society.

‘I need Salazar’s money. Without it I’ll go under and soon. Even with his money...’ He looked every bit his age despite the work he’d had to keep the lines and sags of good living at bay. ‘I need a personal tie to keep me safe. A family tie.’ His tone was grim, his expression ugly, a familiar scheming look in his eye.

The idea of her father’s massive wealth at risk should have shocked her. But somehow it didn’t. He was an inveterate risk-taker.

‘You don’t trust him.’ Ella stared in revulsion. ‘Yet you want your daughter to marry him.’

‘Oh, don’t be such a prude. You remind me of your mother.’ His lip curled. ‘Salazar can give a woman everything money can buy. You’ll be set for life.’

Ella said nothing. She knew her mother’s worth, and that money couldn’t buy the important things in life. But the discussion was academic. Fuzz had run rather than meet this Salazar person and Ella had no intention of sacrificing herself to her father’s schemes. Besides, this paragon of corporate success wouldn’t be interested in having Reg Sanderson’s other daughter foisted on him. The dull, uninteresting one who actually worked for a living.

She was ordinary, a nurse who spent her days home-visiting the sick. She had nothing in common with a corporate high-flyer. Ella turned towards the door again.

‘Without Salazar’s money I lose everything. The business, this house. Everything. And if I go belly up, what do you think happens to your siblings?’ He paused long enough for foreboding to trickle down Ella’s spine.

‘What about the money for your brother’s new venture?’ No mistaking the venom in his tone. ‘The one Rob’s so wrapped up in now he’s left the family business. The one supporting your sister, Felicity, and her boyfriend.’ He all but spat the word.

Ella swung around, her pulse fluttering in her throat.

‘Rob’s money, not yours.’

He shrugged, his gaze sliding sideways. ‘I...accessed some of it to tide me over.’ He must have sensed her outrage, cutting her off before she could speak. ‘If I go down, so do they. How do you think they’ll cope when the cash to finish refurbishing their fine resort disappears?’ Triumph lit her father’s pale eyes.

Impotent fury blindsided her. He’d stolen from Rob but still expected her to help him!

Trust him to realise her feelings for her siblings was a weakness he could exploit.

She’d felt profound relief that Fuzz and Rob had finally broken from their father’s slimy influence. He’d poisoned their lives too long. If they lost this chance to build something for themselves... Ella shrank inside. Rob might be okay; he’d shown unexpected steel in walking away from all their father offered. But Fuzz had done so little for herself. Despite her sister’s air of casual unconcern Ella knew she had deep-seated self-doubts. A setback like this—

Ella stiffened her shoulders like a prisoner facing a firing squad even as everything inside screamed in protest.

‘All right,’ she bit out. ‘I’ll meet him.’

But only to explain that her sister, Felicity, was no longer part of the business deal.

It would be straightforward. What sane man expected marriage to cement a business deal?

* * *

‘Here she is at last.’ Her father’s voice vibrated with bonhomie. ‘I’d like you to meet my daughter Ella.’

For a moment longer she stood, watching the dying sun turn Sydney Harbour to a mirror of peach and copper. Then with a swift, sustaining breath she made herself turn.

‘Ella, my dear.’ Her father’s greeting made her blink. It was the first endearment he’d ever given her. She stared blankly. Once she’d have given anything to hear him address her with approval and pleasure.

The realisation made something long-forgotten crumple inside.

He spoke again. Ella heard the name Donato Salazar and pasted on a smile. She turned to the man beside him, looking up, then up again.

Something jabbed hard at her insides, a blow that all but rocked Ella back on her feet after the shock of her father’s words.

The man before her didn’t belong at one of her father’s parties. That was her first thought.

These events teetered on the borderline between trendy and louche. This man was too...definite to be either. Elemental was the word hovering in her head. He was like a force of nature, a leader, not one of the led.

Beautiful was her second thought.

Even the thin scar running up one cheek emphasised rather than detracted from the powerful beauty of that face.

It was beautiful in the way a remote mountain crag was, its icy peak compelling to climbers yet treacherous. In the way a storm at sea was beautiful in its lethal magnificence.

Which led to her third thought: dangerous.

It wasn’t just his utter stillness, his total focus as he scrutinised her like an amoeba under a microscope. Or that his spare, gorgeous face was hewn of slashing strokes and planes, not a curve to be seen. Except for that thin, perfectly defined mouth that drew her gaze.

In her profession she’d seen lips curved in smiles of joy or relief, drawn tight or stretched in pain or grief. She’d never seen one like this, hinting at both sensuality and cruelty, the grooves around it all about control.

Danger. It was in the air around him, the way it thickened, alive with his presence, enveloping her, drawing her.

That beautiful hard mouth moved, articulating words Ella couldn’t catch as her brain blurred. Then it curved in a smile and everything sped up, her pulse, her thoughts, her breathing.

‘I’m sorry, I missed that.’

‘I said it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms Sanderson.’ Once more those lips curved up, but Ella knew with absolute certainty it wasn’t pleasure Donato Salazar felt.

That was confirmed when she met his eyes, dark denim-blue beneath sleek black eyebrows that winged upwards. His look was assessing and...annoyed?

‘It’s good to meet you too, Mr Salazar.’

‘Mister, Ms, there’s no need to be so formal.’ Her father spoke and Ella had never been so grateful for his presence. He seemed almost benign by comparison with the man beside him. ‘Call her Ella, Donato. We don’t stand on ceremony here.’

The tall man nodded and she told herself the perfect fall of his smooth, dark hair did not shine with the blue-black gloss of a raven’s wing. Just as that wasn’t the hint of a cleft in his chin. Or a flare of understanding in those deep-set, remarkable eyes holding hers.

The idea of being read and understood by one of her father’s associates was too extraordinary to consider. She’d never fitted into Reg Sanderson’s world. She’d been the cuckoo in the nest, unfathomable and uninteresting.

‘Ella.’ Donato Salazar’s voice was deep, with a resonance that trawled through her insides, leaving her strangely empty. ‘And you must call me Donato.’

Perhaps it was the gleam in his eyes, the satisfied twitch of those lips, or the fact she’d finally got over his shocking first impact on her, but suddenly Ella was herself again.

‘That’s kind of you... Donato.’ Something in his eyes flickered and Ella felt a throb of satisfaction. He was human after all. For one stunned moment he’d seemed larger than life.

‘I understand you’re from Melbourne. Are you staying in Sydney long?’

‘That depends—’ a look flashed between him and her father ‘—on a number of things. For the moment I have no definite plans to return.’

Ella nodded easily, as if those plans didn’t include marriage to Reg Sanderson’s daughter.

That was not going to happen.

‘Let’s hope the weather stays fine for your visit. Sydney is a city to be enjoyed in the sunshine.’ As if she spent her days lolling on her father’s motor cruiser, quaffing champagne or indulging in long lunches.

Ella pressed a hand to her empty stomach. Fuzz had left mere hours before this party to honour the man their father wanted her to marry and Reg had summoned Ella straight from work. Typically, while there was plenty of alcohol flowing, food had yet to make an appearance.

‘Ah, the weather.’ Donato’s tone was unreadable, his eyes serious, yet she detected a flicker of superior amusement at one corner of his mouth. ‘A polite and predictable conversation starter. Will you tell me how much better it is here than in wet, windy Melbourne?’

‘It hadn’t occurred to me.’ Ella feigned surprise to hide her annoyance. She’d had her fill of being a source of amusement for her father’s sophisticated friends. Years as the ugly duckling made her prickly when patronised. ‘Are Melbournians really so touchy about their weather? I thought they were more robust.’ She ignored her father’s glowering frown. ‘But do, please, feel free to choose another conversation starter, polite for preference.’

Something glinted in Donato’s appraising eyes and Ella drew herself up.

‘Really, Ella—’ her father began.

‘No, no. The weather it is, Ella.’ Donato said her name slowly as if tasting it. Absurdly, since his accent was as Australian as her own, she caught a hint of exotic foreignness, an unexpected sliver of something unfamiliar and alluring in her simple little name.

The hairs at her nape and along her arms stood to attention.

She firmed her lips at such a flight of fancy. If hearing him say her name with that appealing lilt made her giddy, how would she cope when she finally saved enough for her long-awaited holiday to South America?

‘Tell me—’ he leaned in and Ella caught an enticing hint of coffee and warm male skin ‘—since you’re interested in the weather. Do you think we can expect a summer storm later? Lightning and thunder, perhaps?’

Ella looked from her father, his expression icy with warning, to the clear sky, then back to Donato Salazar with his glinting, unreadable eyes. He knew how her father was sweating on this meeting and he didn’t give a damn. Ella was torn between admiration and anger.

‘Anything is possible, given the right atmospheric conditions.’

He nodded. ‘I find the prospect surprisingly...invigorating.’ He didn’t move but suddenly he seemed to loom closer, towering over her despite her borrowed heels. The air around her seemed to snap and tighten. Or was that her nerves?

Ella told herself that squiggle of response deep inside was because, at five feet ten, she wasn’t used to men dwarfing her. It had nothing to do with the idea of this dark, challenging, vibrant man being invigorated.

The image that word conjured made her catch her breath. Since when had her imagination been so flagrantly erotic?

She had an awful suspicion he read her thoughts. Heat seeped under her skin, spread across her chest and up her throat.

Maybe she’d been working with elderly patients too long. How long since she’d been close to a virile man in his prime? One whose gaze challenged her not to react to him, even as she felt that telltale melting at her core.

‘Tell me more,’ he murmured, his voice like dark, rich syrup. ‘What atmospheric conditions would lead to electricity in the air?’

He was toying with her.

He’d sensed her instantaneous, deeply feminine response to him—that tremor in her belly, that lush softening, and it amused him. His face was as close to bland as such a strong, remarkable face could be. Yet she knew. Something she couldn’t name connected them.

‘I have no idea,’ she snapped. ‘I’m no meteorologist.’

‘You disappoint me.’ His words were silky, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her as if she were some curious specimen. ‘Most people I meet like to talk about things they know well.’

‘To show off their knowledge, you mean?’

He shrugged. The implication was clear. People tried to attract his attention. Her father was about to do it, clearing his throat ready to interrupt this conversation that wasn’t going as he’d planned.

‘You think I should try to impress you?’ Stupid question. This man could make or break her father and, by association, her siblings. She might not need to impress him but common sense dictated she shouldn’t antagonise him either.

Yet it was antagonism she felt, swirling in her blood. That and attraction. And something like fear. It was a dangerous combination.

‘I can tell you—’ she spoke as her father opened his mouth ‘—that our weather often comes from the south.’

‘From the direction of Melbourne, you mean?’ Donato’s eyes narrowed.

‘Precisely.’ She angled her chin higher, refusing to look away from that intent stare. ‘So if there’s an abrupt change in the atmosphere from the south, a big blustery wind, for instance. Or a sudden influx of hot air...’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows what bad weather might result?’

‘Ella—’ Her father’s voice promised retribution but was drowned by a sharp crack of laughter.

It reverberated around her, deep and appealing. Ella’s skin prickled and shivered as if in response to the elemental rumble of thunder.

Donato Salazar had a surprisingly attractive laugh for a man who looked like he could play the Prince of Darkness with no effort at all. The trouble was laughter, the humour in his eyes and that unlooked-for smile turned him into someone far more approachable.

Her fingers tingled. She wanted—so badly she wanted—to cup his face and discover how that sharply defined jaw, that rich olive skin felt beneath her hand.

Ella swung her hands behind her back, clasping them tight together like a schoolgirl.

She shivered. Her response to this man was anything but childish. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her mouth sagging till she realised and snapped it shut. And that melting sensation had spread. Between her legs felt soft like warm butter.

Horror filled her and she stumbled back, only stopping when his laughter cut off and his gaze meshed with hers.

There it was again. That certainty he knew what she felt. The realisation should have mortified her. Instead it felt almost...liberating.

Ella blinked. Her imagination was working overtime. Lack of food had made her woolly-headed.

She did not turn into a puddle of pure lust after five minutes’ acquaintance with any man.

She did not have some psychic connection with this stranger.

‘I apologise for my daughter.’ Her father skewered her with a glacial look. ‘She—’

‘There is no need to apologise.’ Still Donato didn’t shift his gaze from her. That steady look was unnerving. ‘Your daughter is charming.’

‘Charming?’ Reg spluttered before quickly gathering himself. ‘Of course, yes. She’s certainly unusual.’

Ella might have felt grim amusement at her father’s description of his cuckoo-in-the-nest daughter if she weren’t so flabbergasted.

Charming?

Never in her life had she been described that way. But never had she set out to be deliberately rude either.

It was a night of firsts. Her father needing her. Her visceral response to this tall, dark, enigmatic stranger.

If there were going to be many more surprises maybe she should grab a drink to steady her nerves.

‘You must be proud of such an intelligent, forthright daughter.’

Ella froze in the act of scanning the landscaped terraces for a waiter.

‘Proud? Yes, yes, of course I am.’ Her father needed to improve his acting skills. He was usually an expert liar but Ella had never seen him so ill at ease. So desperate.

‘And pretty too.’

Ella swung her head round to meet that probing gaze.

This had gone far enough. She’d done her best, rifling her sister’s abandoned wardrobe to find something suitable. She wouldn’t face a crowd of glittering socialites in work clothes and rubber-soled lace-up shoes. But she had no illusions. Fuzz was the one who turned heads. Never Ella.

‘There’s no need to butter me up. And I prefer not to be talked about as if I’m not here.’

‘Ella!’ Her father looked like he might have a stroke. His colour was too high and his pale eyes bulged before narrowing to needle-sharp fury. He really did need to change his lifestyle if he was going to make it into old age. As if he’d listen to her!

‘My apologies, Ella.’ That low velvety voice made her shiver. ‘No insult was intended.’

‘It’s not you who should apologise, Donato.’ Her father closed in, his grip biting her arm. ‘I think—’

‘I think,’ Donato interrupted smoothly, ‘it’s time you left the pair of us to get better acquainted.’

For an instant her father stared. Usually he was smooth as oil, charming and quick with a comeback. Seeing him so patently at a loss was a new experience. Once it would have delighted Ella. Now a chill clamped her spine.

Who was this man with the power to frighten him so?

‘Of course, of course.’ Her father pasted on a toothy smile. ‘You two need to get better acquainted. I’ll let you do just that.’ With one last warning pinch of her arm he released her and sauntered off as if he hadn’t a care.

Ella watched him go. Ridiculously, she wanted to call him back. As if she hadn’t spent most of her life avoiding him. As if he were the sort of father to protect her.

For the absolute conviction stiffening her sinews warned she really did need protection.

Abruptly she swung around, her gaze lifting until—there it was again—that jangle across her senses, that taut feeling of suspense as her gaze locked with Donato Salazar’s.

His mouth tipped up in a smile that tugged at her heart, dragging it hard against her ribs, making it thrash like a landed fish. Her breath quickened as everything in her that was female responded to his ultra-male charisma.

Yet his eyes showed no softening. That stare probed her very being and found her wanting.

CHAPTER TWO

DONATO LOOKED DOWN into those clear eyes and felt the impact like the ripple of a stone plunging into deep, still water.

They weren’t ordinary eyes. Oh, no, not Ms Ella Sanderson’s. He’d yet to discover anything ordinary about her. He’d come here expecting her father’s daughter and instead found...

What, exactly?

He didn’t know yet but he intended to find out.

He disliked being caught out.

Years ago, in prison, being caught off guard could have cost his life. It had almost cost him an eye. He’d made it his life’s work to be in control, the one pulling the strings, never again reacting to forces he couldn’t handle.

It had been a long time since anyone took him by surprise. He didn’t like it.

Even though he liked what he saw. Too much.

Those eyes, for a start. Mercurial. Some indefinable shade between blue and grey that turned to silvery hoar frost when he riled her. He’d felt her disapproval like the jab from a shard of ice, straight to his belly.

Yet his overwhelming response was to wonder how her eyes would look when rapture overtook her. With him buried deep inside, feeling her shudder around him.

Was it any wonder he felt annoyed? She’d hijacked his thoughts, momentarily interfering with his plans.

She wasn’t what he’d expected, or wanted. No man wanted that sudden sensation that he was no longer master of his destiny. That perfidious fate still had a few nasty surprises in store.

Fate be damned. Donato had stopped being its victim years ago.

‘Alone at last,’ he murmured, watching her mouth tighten.

So, she didn’t like this thing sparking and snarling between them either. But as well as her caution and disapproval he sensed puzzlement. As if she didn’t recognise the syrupy thickening of the atmosphere for what it was—carnal attraction.

Instant. Absolute. Undeniable.

‘There’s no need for us to be alone. Your business is with my father.’ Her jaw angled belligerently.

Donato felt a quickening in his belly.

How long since a woman had reacted to him like that? Not with disdain because of his origins, but defiantly. The last few years had been littered with women eager to grab what they could—sex, money, status, even the thrill of being with a man with his dark reputation. How long since a woman he wanted had been difficult to attain?

For he found he wanted Ms Ella Sanderson with a primal hunger that would probably shock her. It disturbed him and he’d thought himself unshockable.

‘But tonight is about socialising. This is a party, Ella.’ He slowed on her name, enjoying the taste of it almost as much as he enjoyed the flicker of response in those bright eyes.

Oh, yes. Ms Sanderson wanted him as much as he did her. The way she swiped her lips with the tip of her tongue. The telltale tremble of the diamond drop earrings beside her slender throat. The way her eyelids drooped as if anticipating sexual pleasure. The quick rise of her lovely breasts against the azure satin of that tight dress.

Her nipples pebbled, thrusting towards him. It was all he could do not to reach out and anchor his palms against her breasts. He wanted their weight in his hands. He wanted more than he could take here, on one of the terraces leading down to the harbour from her father’s mansion.

Donato shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and saw her eyes narrow to slits as if daring him to stare at her body.

‘Do I disturb you, Ella?’

If she didn’t want him to admire the view she should have worn something else, not a dress that clung to her curves like plastic wrap. In that at least she hadn’t surprised him. He’d expected Sanderson’s daughter to be like her father, show rather than substance. Till she’d turned to face him and he’d known with absolute certainty she was different.

‘Of course not.’ He liked her low, confident voice, so totally unlike the high-pitched giggles of the women by the pool, already shedding their inhibitions. ‘Are you in the habit of...disturbing people?’ Her tone wasn’t arch with flirtation but serious, as if trying to fathom him.

That made two of them.

He shrugged, noting the way her gaze darted to his shoulders. Had he ever met a woman so primed and physically aware of him?

It made him want to take what he desired straight up, then worry about deciphering her later.

He took a step closer and she stilled. Even her breath seemed to stop. Her nostrils dilated. Did she breathe in his scent just as he found himself discovering she smelled of...sweet peas? The perfume of an old-fashioned garden.

Memory blindsided him. Of a garden in sunshine. Of his mother’s all too rare laugh and Jack’s patient tone as he taught them the difference between weeds and the precious vegetable seedlings.

How long since he’d thought of that?

It belonged in another lifetime.

‘Donato?’

He stiffened, registering her hand, lifted as if reaching for him. Then it dropped to her side. He didn’t know if he felt relief or regret.

He wanted to touch her, badly. But not here. Once they touched there would be no holding back.

* * *

‘Some people find me disturbing.’

It would be comforting to believe he had this impact on everyone. Yet to Ella her response seemed utterly personal, as if something linked the pair of them.

‘Why is that?’

Those jet eyebrows shot up. What? Surely not everyone was bowled over by those dark, fallen-angel looks? There must be some, heterosexual men and the blind, who were unaffected.

‘What do you know about me?’

She shrugged. ‘Just that my father wants to do business with you. Ergo you’re rich and powerful.’ She snapped her mouth shut before adding something uncomplimentary. She’d already shot her mouth off when she should have been smoothing the way for the news that her sister wouldn’t be playing happy families.

It was remarkable how he’d provoked her into lashing out. Her profession required discretion.

‘I know you’re from Melbourne, visiting Sydney for a major project.’

‘That’s all?’ His look penetrated, as if peering past the gloss of her sister’s clothes and jewellery to the plain, no-frills woman beneath. Her traitorous body heated and she had to lock her knees.

‘That’s all.’ She’d had no time for an Internet search. She’d barely had time after meeting her father to find suitable clothes to wear.

‘You take so little interest in your father’s business?’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t elaborate. What her father did was no longer any concern of hers. Except when it threatened Rob and Fuzz. ‘That is—’

His raised hand silenced her. ‘Don’t explain. It’s refreshing to meet someone honest enough to admit they’re only interested in money, rather than how it’s made.’

‘You’ve got me wrong.’ He made her sound like a leech.

‘Have I? How?’

Belatedly she shook her head, caution stirring. ‘Never mind. It’s not relevant.’

They’d never meet again. It was a sign of weakness to worry about what he thought of her. Besides, she baulked at Donato Salazar knowing anything about her. Knowledge was power and he looked the sort to wield his power mercilessly.

‘And what is relevant?’

‘The reason you’re here tonight. Felicity.’

‘I came here expecting to meet her.’ His gaze drifted over the crowd on the upper terraces.

‘She’s unavailable. She couldn’t be here.’

‘So your father mentioned.’

Ella wondered what else her father had said. She’d bet her whole savings account he hadn’t admitted Fuzz had done a runner to north Queensland rather than face this man.

The idea of Fuzz anywhere without cold champagne on tap, working spa baths and an adoring audience was unbelievable. Yet Rob said they were camped in a couple of rooms at the old motel, making do with a primus stove and cold showers while the renovations were underway.

For the first time Fuzz was in love. Matthew, Rob’s friend, now business partner, was decent, honest and hard-working, a rarity in her family’s social circle. It gave Ella hope that Fuzz had fallen for him rather than the smarmy powerbrokers she’d dated before. Matthew’s decision to turn the rundown motel he’d inherited into an upmarket resort had been the catalyst Rob and Fuzz needed to break from Sydney and their father.

‘So you’re standing in for your sister.’ Donato’s dark voice trawled like pure alcohol in Ella’s veins, making her blood tingle. ‘What could be more pleasant?’

His expression changed, lines deepening, gaze piercing. He looked...predatory.

Instantly heat bloomed.

‘Not in the way you think!’ Ella blurted.

‘You know my thoughts?’ Again that rise of slashing ebony eyebrows. It made him look like a haughty Spanish grandee of old.

‘Of course not.’ How did he throw her off balance so easily? She’d spent years learning to keep her thoughts to herself and her emotions under control. She always had both feet on the ground.

Yet around Donato Salazar she felt different.

He looked intent and assessing and his stare sent anxiety spidering across her flesh, drawing it tight. Ella wasn’t used to such close masculine attention. Not from men like him. She felt out of her depth and that made her bristle. She decided to change the subject.

‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself tonight. My father’s parties are renowned.’

A shrill cry split the air, followed by a splash in the pool. There was laughter then another splash.

‘So I gather.’ His expression didn’t change but there was steel in his tone that told her he had no time for party games. ‘But I’m here to become acquainted with your family. With you, Ella.’

There it was again, that tremor of excitement as he said her name. Ella rubbed her hands up her bare arms to smooth sudden goose bumps. Too late she saw her mistake, when his gaze zeroed in on the movement. It wasn’t cold. The night was balmy. He knew she was reacting to him.

Ella shouldn’t have let pride tempt her into raiding her sister’s wardrobe. Years as the frump of the family, the one with puppy fat and boring brown hair instead of glorious golden locks, had made her determined to look good. Now, wedged into her sister’s dress, perched in glittery shoes, she craved her sensible trousers and flats.

She turned to lean on the waist-high terrace wall, pretending to look at the harbour view.

Donato stood over a metre away. Yet she felt him as if they touched. How was it possible?

‘I didn’t know until tonight that your father had three children. I’d only heard of two.’

That was no surprise. Reg Sanderson never boasted about his boring middle child as he did about his clever son or gorgeous older daughter. Until tonight Ella had been persona non grata.

‘Felicity and Rob are closer to him. Rob even worked for him.’ Until too-close exposure to their father’s business soured his enthusiasm. Rob was a corporate lawyer and Ella suspected he’d seen too much of their father’s business tactics.

‘Yet I haven’t seen photos of you with your sister in the press.’

Ella blinked. ‘You read the social pages?’ He looked the kind of man who only read finance and politics.

‘You’d be surprised what I read.’

She frowned. ‘It matters to you, does it? Who’s seen at high-profile parties?’

‘It matters that I understand people when I’m about to do business with them.’

Ella stiffened. ‘Your business is with my father, not me or Felicity.’

His regard was enigmatic and unblinking. Challenging.

‘You were checking up on her?’

He shrugged. ‘Isn’t it natural that I take an interest in your family?’

Since he planned to marry into it. Her stomach clenched.

‘Did you hire investigators too?’ She whipped around to face him full on.

‘Why would that bother you?’

‘Because it would be an invasion of privacy. It would be—’ she shuddered ‘—intrusive.’

Had there been cameras trained on her sister when she partied? When she and Matthew were together? Ella frowned. Fuzz mightn’t be the best sister in the world but she was the only one Ella had.

‘Did you spy on my sister?’ Ella stepped up to Donato, her hands finding her hips, her bottom lip jutting.

‘Your sister? No.’ He was staring at her mouth.

Crazily, she felt her lips go dry. She swallowed and he watched the movement. How could it feel as if he trailed a finger down her throat when he hadn’t lifted a hand?

Hormones. They danced riotously, making her heart drum against her ribcage and her insides clench needily.

Ella swiped her parched lips with her tongue and wished she hadn’t. His look seared. She wanted to back up a step but he’d know why. She was stuck there, her neck arched to meet his intense scrutiny, her body taut as a spinnaker billowing and snapping in a sudden gale.

She didn’t imagine the turbulence in the air. It was real and it emanated from him.

‘You didn’t hire investigators?’ she pressed.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. ‘No one investigated you or your siblings. Otherwise I’d have known about you before tonight, wouldn’t I?’

Ella drew in a deep breath, searching for calm. Trying to ignore the way her bra scraped her over-sensitive breasts and budding nipples. Trying to concentrate on the conversation, not how this man made her feel.

It took a moment to realise what he hadn’t said.

He’d said nothing about whether he’d had her father investigated.

A sound made her turn. It was a waiter with a laden tray, coming down the stairs. Ella moved towards him. Her throat was dry but more, she craved something to distract her from the sensation of being cut off alone with Donato.

‘Drink, sir? Ma’am?’

‘Champagne, Ella?’ Donato was right behind her. Had she really thought to escape so easily?

‘Water, please.’

‘Sensible choice.’ He took two glasses of sparkling water and nodded his thanks to the waiter, who headed back to the higher terraces. Ella watched him go, wondering what would happen if she simply followed.

That wouldn’t work. She needed to sort this out here, in private, away from curious eyes.

‘Sensible?’ Did he think she’d drink too much then lose her inhibitions?

Donato held out a drink, touching only the bottom of the glass, as if careful of any glancing contact.

Ella was inordinately grateful. Since they’d met she’d felt his presence like a touch—on her lips, her skin, her breasts. She suspected the real thing—his skin against hers—might be her undoing.

Carefully she took the glass. ‘Thanks.’

‘Sometimes it’s wise to keep a clear head. Tonight is one of those times.’

She’d lifted the glass to her lips but paused. Was he talking about her father’s idea that he marry Fuzz? Or did he refer to the swirl of attraction enveloping them?

‘About my father’s proposal...’

‘Which one?’

Ella stared. There was more than one?

Of course there was. The old man no doubt had a whole raft of business proposals for Donato. He’d be looking to screw every dollar he could out of him.

‘About Felicity.’

‘Yes?’ Damn the man. He just stood there waiting, making her feel appallingly awkward.

Ella sipped her water, grateful for the cool fizz on her palate, easing the constriction in her throat. ‘She’s away long term. She has a commitment interstate.’

Donato nodded and Ella drew a relieved breath.

Of course he wasn’t interested in her father’s suggestion that they marry. Donato Salazar would pick his own woman. He’d just been too polite to tell her father his idea was old-fashioned and unnecessary.

‘She won’t be coming back to Sydney.’

‘So I understand.’ He paused. ‘Am I permitted to ask what keeps her away, or would that fall under the category of an invasion of privacy?’

Was he laughing at her?

‘It’s no secret. She’s working in Queensland, managing a large interior-design project.’

‘Really?’ One eyebrow cocked up. ‘I wasn’t aware your sister actually worked.’

Ella felt a slow burn radiate out from her belly. Not sexual arousal this time but shame on Fuzz’s behalf.

It was true. Her twenty-seven-year-old sister had never done a day’s paid work. The closest she’d come were charity modelling gigs. But that was changing. Fuzz was committed to this project. If she stuck at it this would be the making of her. Once she was away from their father—

‘As you say, Donato—’ Ella halted, thrown for a second by how much she enjoyed saying his name. She was like a teenager stricken by lust for the first time! ‘You don’t know us.’ She drew herself up, standing as tall as she could. ‘Fuzz... Felicity is part of the design team for a major Queensland resort.’ Well, it would be a major resort once it was finished.

‘This is the resort your brother has invested in?’

‘You know about that?’

‘Your father said he’d left the family firm in order to strike out on his own. Still in the same field though, entertainment and hospitality.’

‘Not quite the same. My father’s wealth is built on gambling, poker machines and casinos.’

‘Not just gambling.’ The riposte came quickly and Ella tried to read that crisp tone. There was something adamantine in his voice, something new that sent anxiety skidding down her backbone. Instinct twanged in warning. She took another long sip of iced water, grounding herself.

‘Your father has had diverse interests.’ Ella thought she saw his lip curl. Then the impression was gone. He looked back blandly.

‘Felicity has another reason for being in Queensland.’ She needed to make it clear her father’s scheme was impractical. ‘She’s living with her partner. They’re working together.’

‘A permanent relationship, then?’

‘Absolutely.’ More permanent, at least, than any of her sister’s previous relationships. ‘I know my father suggested you get to know Felicity better.’ She couldn’t bring herself to use the word marry. ‘But in the circumstances that’s not possible.’

‘I understand completely.’ Donato’s lips curved in a smile that did the strangest things to her internal organs.

The man was devastating. Totally mind-blowingly gorgeous. He looked like some lethally enthralling anti-hero bent on breaking every rule, perhaps even ravishing a few virgins along the way.

Ella blinked and stared. What had got into her head? Flights of fancy were so not her.

Donato moved in, blocking her view of the other terraces and instantly her nerves jangled. She tightened her grip on the water glass, slippery with condensation.

‘Your father thought our business partnership would be enhanced by a family tie. He suggested marriage.’

Ella waited for his derision at the idea. Instead she met only speculation in Donato’s gaze.

‘That’s not an option. Felicity is spoken for,’ she reiterated.

‘I hope she’ll be very happy.’ Donato raised his glass in salute. ‘And may I say how lucky I am that your father has another charming daughter to take her place?’

CHAPTER THREE

ELLA STARED INTO eyes that held not a whit of humour.

The hairs at her nape rose at the weight of that heavy-lidded regard.

Her, as her sister’s replacement.

For a split second Ella felt triumph, elation at the prospect of being his. Of experiencing all that intensity, not as a curious specimen to be studied but as a lover.

Her gaze slewed to the breadth of those shoulders, the lean strength of the man beneath the exquisite tailoring. What would it feel like being held in those arms?

She reared back, water spilling from her glass.

‘I’m not my sister’s stand-in.’ The words jerked out from her constricting throat.

‘Of course not. You’re a unique individual.’ His smile was all smooth charm. If you didn’t look into those eyes, calculating and aware.

‘Don’t patronise me.’

‘My apologies. I assumed you’d prefer me to be frank.’

‘Of course I do.’ She gripped her glass in both hands.

He watched assessingly. ‘Then let me say nothing appeals more than the prospect of knowing you better.’

There was nothing salacious in his tone, or his expression, yet those words—knowing you—held hidden depth. Knowing as in sexually knowing.

It should have horrified her yet it didn’t.

She wanted him. Here. Now. With an immediacy that overrode every cautious, pragmatic, sensible bone in her body. With a raw hunger that totally disregarded the fact he was caviar and champagne in a crystal flute or perhaps arctic vodka, strong and lethal, while she was brown bread and tea in a good, sturdy pot.

‘Don’t be absurd. We have nothing in common.’

‘I suspect we have a great deal in common, Ella.’ He paused, as if savouring her name. ‘Your father and his business, for instance.’

She spun away, stalking half a dozen steps before turning to face him. He was just as imposing, and smug, from here.

Then, to her dismay, he closed the gap with a couple of easy strides. Annoyance fizzed in her belly.

‘You’re not interested in getting to know me.’ A man like Donato Salazar would want a high-profile trophy wife. Not a plain Jane woman whose feet ached at the end of a long day.

‘I thought we’d already established that you don’t know what goes on inside my head?’

He didn’t look annoyed. Instead he looked...engaged. His tall body canted towards her as if drawn by the same force she felt urging her closer to him.

She stepped back, ignoring the knowing uptilt of those slashing eyebrows.

She understood attraction. Even understood the lure of the dangerous, though she’d always chosen a safer, more prosaic route through life.

Yet she’d never experienced this heat of desire. It saturated her, made her imagine impossible things. Like grabbing Donato’s collar and yanking that proud, scarred face down to hers. She wanted to savour him, lose herself in the passion she knew was hiding below that veneer of polite calm.

His nostrils flared, his chest rising sharp and sudden, as if he’d intercepted her thoughts. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

The night air zapped and thickened.

‘I don’t know anything about you.’

‘But that doesn’t matter, does it?’ His deep voice wove around her. ‘It doesn’t stop what you’re feeling.’

Ella opened her mouth to snap that she felt nothing.

But he was watching keenly, waiting for her to flutter and fuss and deny this awareness between them. She wouldn’t play coy. It would be an admission of fear and showing fear to this man would only invite trouble.

Ella jerked her chin up. ‘I don’t know what sort of women you usually mix with, Donato. But know this. I’m not about to act on impulse with a stranger.’

‘No matter how tempting.’ He gave voice to her thoughts, making her start.

‘What?’ he drawled, his voice like honey and gravel. ‘You think I’m not tempted? You think my hands aren’t itching to slide over your luscious body? To pull you tight against me and feel how well we fit? To taste you?’

The sudden change from amused outsider to consummate seducer slammed her heart against her ribs.

‘You think I’m not tempted to make you acknowledge exactly how much you want me?’

Ella’s breath disintegrated. His gaze flickered to her heaving breasts and fire exploded within. She was burning up and nothing, she suspected, could put out the conflagration except Donato.

The idea appalled as much as it excited her.

She looked at the glass shaking in her too-tight grip. Had her drink been spiked? How she wished she had such an easy excuse.

‘It doesn’t matter what you want, Donato.’ She lifted her head to meet his stare. ‘It’s not going to happen.’

His gaze sharpened and anxiety feathered through her. Too late she pondered the wisdom of declaring an outright challenge. She had a disturbing feeling Donato Salazar thrived on smashing challenges.

‘Never say never, Ella.’

The intensity of his look scared her. Suddenly she felt out of her depth. She wanted to be in her flat, curled up in her pyjamas with a movie and the block of chocolate she’d been saving all week.

‘I want to know you, Ella.’

‘How? Sexually?’ She put her glass down on a nearby table before she dropped it.

‘I like that you say exactly what you think, Ella. It’s refreshing.’

She stuck her hands on her hips and this time she did give in to impulse, stalking a step closer till she realised her mistake and shuddered to a halt. But she refused to backtrack, even though she stood near enough to inhale his heady masculine scent.

‘You’re a slow learner, Donato. I told you not to patronise me.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m just telling you the truth.’ His mouth widened in a smile that drew her belly tight. ‘Do I want your body? Absolutely.’ His gaze dipped then rose again. ‘We’ll be magnificent together.’

No if, just absolute certainty. Where did this man get off, assuming she was his for the taking?

‘But I want more. I want to understand you.’

Of all the things he could have said, of all the things he had said, this was the one that cut her defences off at the knees.

No man had ever wanted to understand her. Not her father, who’d wanted her to be pretty and frivolous and pander to his ego. Not the guys she’d met at long-ago society parties, nor the men she’d dated since.

Longing coursed through her. He was clever, this man, too clever. He really did know what women wanted.

‘Why?’ She tilted her head to one side, wishing she could read him. ‘We’re strangers. And don’t tell me it’s because you think my father’s idea of marrying into this family is a good one. I want the truth.’

Ella held herself tall, ready for Donato’s blast of outrage, conditioned to it after a lifetime dealing with her father’s volatile temperament.

‘You think I’d lie?’

‘Men usually do when they want something.’

‘You don’t have a high opinion of men.’ He looked curious rather than offended. ‘But I applaud your caution.’

‘You do?’

He nodded. ‘It pays not to accept everything at face value. Too many people put themselves at risk then find themselves in situations they can’t control or escape.’ His voice rang with a depth of feeling that surprised her.

She couldn’t imagine anyone taking advantage of Donato.

‘Did that ever happen to you?’

Long moments passed, then he surprised her. ‘Of course. But once was enough. It won’t happen again.’ His words held absolute certainty.

Ella wished she possessed such conviction. She should walk away from Donato Salazar and the danger he represented. He made her want things that scared the daylights out of her.

She imagined giving in to him. There’d be no fumbling, no awkwardness. She guessed with him sex would be far too easy and utterly devastating.

‘Why me?’ She set her jaw. ‘There are plenty of glamorous women here. Quite a few would give you sex if you asked.’

‘You don’t think you’re glamorous?’

How had he latched onto that? On the fact she felt like an imposter even dressed in silk and diamonds.

‘I know my limitations.’

‘And you think your looks are one of them?’

‘The way I look doesn’t matter.’ She ignored the tension clamping her stomach.

He put down his drink beside hers and she wondered, frantically, if he’d reach for her. Instead he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. The movement emphasised the power in both his broad shoulders and muscular thighs.

‘I think it matters very much, to you.’

Ella wiped clammy hands down her dress. Her sister’s dress. Fuzz would look delicate and gorgeous in it. On Ella it strained at the seams and the skirt rode too high.

‘I was wrong when I called you pretty.’

She froze. She’d asked for the truth, hadn’t she? What did it matter if these last few years she’d begun to believe she was attractive in her own quiet way? His admission shouldn’t feel like such a blow.

‘Pretty is for little girls. And you’re all woman, Ella.’ She saw his hands bunch in his pockets, drawing the fabric of his trousers tight. ‘You’re the only woman here that I want in my bed.’

Her breath was an audible gasp.

‘You’re stunning. The fire in your eyes, that sassy mouth of yours, all that lovely lush bounty of hips and breasts and long, long legs. I want—’

‘That’s enough!’

Ella pressed a palm to her pounding chest. Her heart hammered up high as if it had broken free. ‘We’re not discussing my looks or who you want in your bed.’

‘We’re not?’ His mouth kicked up at the corner in a tiny smile that was far more devastating than the one he’d given her before. It was the sort of smile a friend or lover might give, a shared intimacy.

Ella tugged the silk dress further down her thighs. ‘No. We’re discussing the fact that you marrying into the Sanderson family is totally unnecessary.’

‘Unnecessary? Yes.’

At last! She felt as if a huge stone lifted off her chest. Finally some of the tension drained from her body.

‘But definitely appealing.’ His eyes traced a sinuous line down her tall frame and it was a wonder Ella didn’t self-combust. If any other man had ogled her like that she’d have slapped him. Instead her shoulders tightened, pushing out her breasts as if she revelled in that proprietorial look.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Pity the words sounded breathy rather than outraged.

‘You heard me, Ella. Don’t play coy.’

‘I’m not playing anything!’ Had the world gone mad? Had lust addled her brain? ‘You can’t seriously tell me you think my father’s plan makes sense.’

‘Actually—’ his eyes locked with hers ‘—I think it’s an excellent idea.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ She stared into that steady blue gaze, waiting for some sign that Donato was joking.

No sign came. Ella folded her hands over her chest then wished she hadn’t when his gaze flickered to her breasts, pushed up under the tight silk. She hated how that split-second glance flustered her.

‘It’s not going to happen. Felicity won’t marry you.’

‘So you said.’ He leaned forward, holding her gaze. ‘You’re repeating yourself. Do I make you nervous?’

‘Nervous? No.’ Casually she reached for her discarded glass and took a slow sip.

‘Something else then?’ His voice was a dark purr. Instead of reassuring, it primed her fight-or-flight response. Donato was no tame cat. He was about as safe as a panther eyeing its next meal.

‘Several things spring to mind, Donato, but I’m too polite to spell them out.’

His chuckle was warm treacle spilling through her veins. ‘It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you tonight, Ella. I hadn’t expected to enjoy myself so much.’

‘I amuse you?’ Her jaw firmed, her look dared him to laugh at her.

‘That’s not the word I’d use.’ Abruptly his laughter died. His expression was sombre and intent.

‘I don’t want to know.’

His eyebrows arched. ‘You don’t? I hadn’t pegged you for a coward, Ella.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’ She was too busy being terrified of the stranger she’d become while she was with him.

‘Good, that will make things so much more enjoyable.’

‘What things?’

He rocked back on his heels. ‘Our relationship.’

‘We don’t have a relationship. I’m going to leave and you’ll spend the rest of the evening enjoying the party.’ It was a test of willpower not to look at the pool terrace, where the laughter had escalated to riotous. He’d be welcomed with open arms. ‘We won’t see each other again.’

The realisation was like a rock plummeting inside her stomach. Despite all tonight’s negatives, Ella felt invigorated, more energised than she had in ages.

‘Why? Do you have a man waiting up for you?’ Donato dragged his hands out of his pockets, his stance widening as he folded his arms across his chest. The movement transformed him from lazy spectator to belligerent adversary. Or maybe it was the way he scowled.

‘There’s no one waiting up for me.’ Ella could have bitten her tongue. He brought out the reckless, unthinking side she usually managed to squash.

‘Excellent. I won’t be stepping on anyone’s toes.’

Ella read his smug expression and her fingers slipped on the damp glass. There was a crash. Water sprayed her bare leg as the glass shattered on the flagstones.

‘Are you okay?’ He stepped forward, so close he stole her air. His hand lifted as if to touch her and something engulfed her—a warmth, a frisson, an unseen shimmer of electrical charge.

‘Fine! I’m fine.’ Ella assumed it was water trickling down her calf, not blood from a tiny cut. She’d look later.

She stepped back, coming up against the stone wall. She swallowed down panic. ‘It’s been a very long day and I’m tired.’ With an effort she kept her words even. ‘Find someone else to play your games.’

Piercing eyes scrutinised her, then Donato nodded and stepped aside to let her pass. Relief stirred.

‘You underestimate me, Ella. I’m not playing games. I’ll call for you in the morning.’

‘Why? There’s no point.’

There was no smile on his features when he answered. ‘To get to know you before the wedding, of course.’

‘Cut it out, Donato. The joke’s over.’ Was that a wobble in her voice? Great. Just great. Ella stalked past.

To her horror he turned, his long stride fitting to hers, his hand hovering at the small of her back. She felt it as surely as if he’d pressed his palm to her spine.

‘I’ll walk you to the house.’

‘I can get there alone.’

‘You’re tired. I’ll keep you company.’

Ella slammed to a halt and a whisper of sensation glanced down her back as his hand skimmed her dress. An instant later he’d stepped back.

It was more than tiredness bothering her. Being back in her father’s house, she had that awful sensation she’d known in her teens, that she was dressing up, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She’d even grown klutzy again, though she worked with her hands all the time.

Worse, being watched by Donato unnerved her. As for his pretence that he wanted to marry her! That made her burn from the soles of her feet to the tips of her ears.

‘Now you listen!’ She swung around and lifted a hand to jab her index finger into that imposing chest.

To her surprise Donato stepped back before she made contact.

‘Don’t.’ The single word was terse. His face hardened, grew still but for the tic of a pulse at his temple.

‘What?’ He didn’t like her invading his personal space? Tough. She didn’t like being the butt of his joke. She planted her hands on her hips and moved even closer.

‘Not a good idea, Ella.’

‘Why not? You can dish it out but you can’t cope with a woman who stands up to your cruel little games?’ Silly to taste disappointment. For a while there she’d almost believed there was more to Donato.

That proved it. She was tired.

His lips thinned, curling up in a smile unlike either of the ones she’d seen before. This one held no warmth or humour. It was a hunter’s assessing look and it was full of satisfaction. It brought her up sharply, her heart thrumming frantically.

‘On the contrary, Ella.’ His voice slowed to syrup on her name. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to you standing up against me.’

Dazed, Ella wondered if he too pictured them locked together, she held high in his embrace, her legs around his waist. She swallowed, willing the fiery blush away.

Then she read the tension in his neck and shoulders, in his clenched hands. ‘Don’t try to con me, Donato. You don’t like me being this close to you.’

‘Brave but foolish, Ella.’ He unfurled his hands, stretching his long fingers, and abruptly Ella felt far too close for comfort. ‘I don’t want you near me. I want you against me, skin to skin, with nothing between us. I want to watch you blush, not just with arousal—’ his gaze trawled her heated face ‘—but with ecstasy.’

Her gasp was loud in the throbbing silence.

He breathed deep, his chest rising so high Ella could swear she felt a disturbance in the air, brushing her breasts and drawing her nipples to tight buds. Her body blazed with the fire he’d ignited.

‘I drew back,’ he murmured, ‘because when we do touch, I want us to be alone. So we can finish what we start.’ His eyes were heavy-lidded yet there was nothing lazy about his scrutiny. She felt it in the jangle of her nerves. That only made her angrier.

‘You expect me to believe one touch from me and you wouldn’t be able to control yourself?’ Her eyebrows arched. She wasn’t that naïve, despite the foolish way her body responded. She was no siren, to make men forget themselves.

‘I know neither of us would want to pull back once we...connected.’ He let his words sink in. ‘I also suspect your desire for privacy might be even stronger than mine. Anyone could walk down here and interrupt us.’

He looked around as if searching for a suitable spot for them to get naked together.

‘I don’t believe you.’

His gaze collided with hers. ‘You want to test it?’ His nostrils flared, his eyes gleaming slits. He looked primitive, dangerous, like a warrior daring her to combat.

Her brain screamed a warning and Ella stepped back. The scrape of her heel on the flagstone was unnaturally loud. Even her breathing was amplified, and her pulse, beating that quick tattoo.

‘No, I don’t want to touch you. Not now, not ever.’ Just as well there was no summer thunderstorm tonight or she might have been struck down for the enormity of that lie. ‘I won’t be seeing you again, Donato. Goodbye.’

Squaring her shoulders, half expecting him to stop her, Ella turned and strode along the terrace back towards the bright lights and people.

He let her go. See, it had been easy after all. She’d called Donato’s bluff and that was the end of it.

That was not disappointment she felt. It was relief that she’d never have to see him again.

CHAPTER FOUR

DONATO WATCHED ELLA march away. He’d thought nothing about Reg Sanderson could surprise him. Yet Sanderson’s daughter had stopped him in his tracks.

Ella. He savoured her name.

Perhaps it had been a mistake pulling away from her. Maybe if he hadn’t kept his distance he’d have shattered this illusion that she was different.

Except it would take more than a quickie up against the garden wall to quench what was inside him.

Which, he assured himself, fitted his plans perfectly.

That was what he had to concentrate on. Revenge. He’d always known it would be sweet. With Ella as an added bonus it would be delicious.

He sauntered to the house. There was no one here he wanted to spend time with. Only Ella. Despite her bravado he’d read her fear. Sensible woman. But he’d allay those fears and ensure she enjoyed their time together.

He’d stopped to tell a waiter about the broken glass on the lower level when Sanderson appeared. His pale eyes looked almost febrile, belying his casual stance. Satisfaction stirred. This had been a long time coming. Too long. He intended to enjoy every moment of Sanderson’s descent into ruin.

‘All alone, Donato?’ He scowled. ‘Where’s that girl of mine? Don’t tell me she’s left you alone?’

‘Ella was tired.’

‘Tired? I’ll give her tired!’ he roared. ‘I—’

‘It’s better she gets her sleep tonight.’ Donato kept his voice bland though he wanted to grab Sanderson by the scruff of his neck and shake him till his teeth rattled.

Because Donato hated him with every fibre of his being? Or because of the way he spoke of Ella? Didn’t the man realise how precious family was? Had he no concept of protecting his child against a man whom everyone knew was as implacable and dangerous as they came?

What sort of man sold his daughter to a stranger?

Donato already knew the answer. Reg Sanderson. The bastard had already destroyed too many lives.

It would be a public service as well as a pleasure to see he got his just deserts.

Darkness engulfed him. No, Donato wouldn’t see him dead, which was what he deserved. Donato had come close to killing once and he’d learned a lot since then. This way was better. Sanderson’s suffering would be drawn out.

‘She should have stayed here, with you. I apologise.’

Donato raised his hand. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll see her tomorrow.’

‘You will?’ The older man’s expression stilled. ‘So, you’re interested? In Ella?’ Was that barely concealed shock in his voice? Sanderson had no notion what a gem his daughter was. The man was blind as well as deplorable.

Donato had seen the photos of Ella’s sister, a golden girl with obvious allure. Yet if he really sought a bride he wouldn’t choose Felicity Sanderson. If reports were accurate, she hadn’t a loyal bone in her body.

Did Ella really believe her sister would stick with this new lover, or did she merely try to protect her from the danger he, Donato, represented?

The idea of her protecting anyone from him was ludicrous, given his far superior power and resources. Yet the notion stuck and he filed it away for future consideration.

‘It was a delight meeting someone so refreshing and intelligent.’ Forthright and clever enough to be suspicious, Ella had intrigued from the instant she’d looked at him.

Sanderson didn’t quite hide his satisfaction. His smile was hungry. ‘It’s wonderful you hit it off so well. I’d hoped you would. There’s no telling with Ella; sometimes she can be a little...’

‘A little...?’

Sanderson shrugged and took a swig of his drink. ‘To be frank, she can be a little outspoken sometimes. But in a good way, of course. Refreshing, as you say.’

He smiled that conspiratorial smile as if they were good buddies and Donato had to repress the compulsion to slam his fist into the other man’s whiter than white capped teeth. He’d done a lot of things in his time, some of them society had labelled reprehensible. But nothing that sickened him like playing Sanderson’s temporary friend.

‘I prefer honesty to polite platitudes.’ Especially when those platitudes hid murky secrets.

‘Don’t we all?’

‘Meeting your daughter has helped me feel I know you better. That’s important if we’re to work together.’

‘I thought you’d see it that way.’ Sanderson paused, then said carefully, ‘So, you want to proceed with the partnership and the loan?’ His absolute stillness gave him away. He was strung tight.

Grim satisfaction filled Donato. ‘Definitely. This is too good an opportunity to miss.’

It had taken years of preparation to reach this point, and now he was poised to destroy Sanderson financially and socially. If he couldn’t put him behind bars for his crimes, Donato would at least see he lost what he cared for most. ‘My staff are ready to meet at ten tomorrow to discuss the details.’

‘You won’t be there?’ Concern flared in Sanderson’s eyes. Excellent. It was time he discovered he couldn’t keep running from the consequences of his actions.

‘My staff are competent to handle the meeting. I plan to be with Ella, getting to know her better.’

‘I’m sure she’ll love that.’

Not initially, Donato knew, but he’d change her mind. He looked forward to it.

‘Does that mean you liked my notion of a Salazar-Sanderson marriage?’ Sanderson looked urbane and relaxed, yet the ripple on the surface of his whisky betrayed him.

Donato scrutinised him, from his deep tan and perennially gold hair to the gloss only close acquaintance with serious money could buy. That didn’t hide the mean lines around his mouth, the avaricious gleam in those pale blue eyes or the pugnacious angle of that thick jaw.

He knew what Sanderson was. Imagine him as a father. No wonder his eldest daughter was a beautiful waste of space. Which made his younger daughter...what, exactly?

‘Donato?’ Sanderson didn’t sound quite so smug now.

‘The marriage idea?’ Donato took his time, relishing the other man’s unease. ‘I think it’s an excellent one.’

Sanderson’s eyes widened momentarily before his face eased into a calculating look. ‘Ella is a special girl, and lucky.’ His toothy smile reminded Donato of a crocodile. Or maybe it was just that he knew Sanderson to be as cold-blooded as any reptile.

Despite the money he’d made, Donato had no illusions that he was love’s young dream. Not with his criminal record. He was the sort of man parents prayed their daughter would never bring home.

Yet here was Sanderson thrusting his unsuspecting daughter into Donato’s arms. Was there anything Sanderson wouldn’t do for money?

‘And Ella agreed?’ Pale eyes fixed on him.

‘Ella understands what I want. We’ll sort out the details soon.’

‘It will be a pleasure welcoming you to the family.’ Sanderson made to shake hands but Donato pretended not to notice, turning to snag a wine glass from a passing waiter.

‘Here’s to the wedding that will make us family.’ Sanderson raised his glass.

Donato suppressed a wave of nausea at the notion of being so intimately linked with this man. Sanderson had destroyed the one person Donato had ever loved. The only one who’d ever loved him. Sanderson had destroyed countless others too and didn’t give a damn. But Donato did, and he’d make sure Sanderson paid in full.

‘To the wedding,’ he murmured. ‘Soon, don’t you think?’

‘Definitely.’ Sanderson nodded. ‘Though Ella might—’

‘I’m sure I can persuade her to an early date.’ The thought of persuading Ella made his blood hum. He was counting the hours till he saw her again. That was a first.

His host nodded. ‘I knew you’d be the man for her. A lovely girl, but she needs a firm hand.’

Was that how Sanderson had managed his family? Donato’s investigators had concentrated on Sanderson’s business activities, especially any nasty little financial secrets, not on his family. Sympathy flickered, even for party girl Felicity. But most of all for Ella. Ella, with the wary eyes, who didn’t believe she was beautiful.

‘Don’t worry. You can leave Ella to me.’

‘Good man.’ Sanderson waved his whisky glass. ‘I suppose you’d prefer to marry in Melbourne so I suggest—’

‘No, I couldn’t do that. I know the bride’s family organises the wedding. You’ll want to give Ella a big society event.’ Donato smiled, genuine amusement surfacing at Sanderson’s dismay. Obviously, in his scheming to snare Donato’s support, and money, he hadn’t reckoned with footing the bill for a lavish celebration.

‘That’s kind, Donato. But you’re a very private man. Ella will understand if you want to tie the knot quietly.’

Donato shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t dream of depriving her. The bigger the celebration the better. It will signal the beginning of our partnership.’ There, that made him smile. ‘Let’s make it the society event of the decade.’

Donato watched his host turn a pasty shade of green. ‘I realise it’s a huge task organising such an event at short notice so I’ll give you some assistance.’

‘That’s very good of you, Donato. I won’t say no.’

‘Good. I’ll lend you someone to help with the preparations. I know just the person. She’s got an eye for quality and understands we’ll want no expense spared.’ He put up his hand when Sanderson would have interrupted. ‘Don’t thank me. It’s the least I can do.’

Sanderson bit back a response, his expression for a moment ugly, though quickly masked.

‘Now, if you’ll just give me Ella’s mobile number? I forgot to get it earlier.’

Interestingly, for a man who thought his daughter so ‘special’, Sanderson didn’t have the number programmed into his phone. He had to go inside to get it, leaving Donato to consider the outcome of tonight’s events.

Sanderson was on the hook.

As for his absurd proposal that Donato marry his daughter...that was the bid of a desperate man.

But Donato would play along. It would be the icing on the cake to know his enemy had spent his last credit on a huge public wedding that would never take place. Not only would Sanderson be ruined beyond redemption, the farce of the non-wedding would make him a social pariah.

Even if Donato had to come in quietly later and pay the bills so no suppliers were out of pocket, the expense would be worth it. Sanderson would be in the gutter, ashamed and ostracised, bankrupt and unable to start again. He deserved far worse but it would do.

Only one thing niggled. When Sanderson had first suggested marriage, Donato had had no qualms about agreeing. From what he’d learned, Felicity had a Teflon-coated heart. She’d thrive on the notoriety and the monetary compensation Donato would provide when the wedding was cancelled.

But Ella was different. He didn’t yet have her measure and that gave him pause. He never went into negotiations without knowing his opponent. Or in this case his partner.

His lips tilted in a satisfied smile. No, it didn’t matter if this once he winged it. He’d work out a way to compensate her. But he had no intention of walking away. Not merely because this dovetailed so nicely with his plans for revenge. But because he wanted Ella.

He intended to enjoy her, and their courtship, to the full.

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