The dress she had chosen to wear to the party was one of her own creations. Made of gold silk organza with a tulle overlay, the ball gown had a tight-fitting bodice with narrow shoulder straps and a full skirt. The design was unashamedly romantic and had been inspired by stories of fairy-tale princesses from Arianna’s childhood.
All she needed was a handsome prince, she thought wryly as she dabbed perfume on the pulse points at her wrists and neck. She loved the exclusive fragrance that had been created for her by a famous Parisian perfumer, but she would no longer be able to afford bespoke perfume when she launched her fashion business. It would be a small price to pay for her independence from her father though.
Buoyed by that thought, Arianna collected her evening bag and pashmina and headed out of her bedroom. Halfway down the villa’s sweeping staircase she saw Santino walk across the entrance hall and her footsteps faltered. He halted at the bottom of the stairs and seemed riveted by her appearance.
‘You look exquisite,’ he said thickly.
‘Thank you.’ She tried to sound cool and composed but her voice was annoyingly husky, and she felt herself blush beneath his intense scrutiny as she descended the last few steps. His green eyes gleamed and she glimpsed a feral hunger in his gaze that felt like a kick low in her belly.
He looked incredible in a tuxedo, white silk shirt and black bow tie. The stubble on his jaw had been trimmed and his dark-as-night hair was tidier than usual but still curled rebelliously over his collar.
‘Don’t you think you are rather overdressed for a bodyguard-cum-chauffeur?’ she murmured, feeling a stab of jealousy as she wondered if he intended to meet a woman in Amalfi once he had delivered her to the party.
‘The invitation states black tie.’ Santino took a gold-edged card out of his jacket pocket. ‘Your friend Jonny invited me to the party when I met him on his yacht, after I explained that you and I are very good friends.’ The suggestive wink he gave infuriated her even more.
‘Why on earth did you tell him that?’
‘I thought you might prefer that the other guests tonight don’t realise I am your bodyguard.’
She glared at him. ‘I told you, there is no need for you to be at the Indira Club. The party is invitation only and the paparazzi will be prevented from entering the club. If you must, you can escort me to the door to make sure I don’t do anything outrageous that would guarantee my photograph appearing on the front of tomorrow’s tabloids.’
‘But this—’ Santino waved the invitation in front of her ‘—means that I can attend the party with you. Rather than you having to explain to your friends that I am your minder, it makes sense if I pretend to be your date.’
She shook her head fiercely and her hair, which she’d allowed to dry into its natural, loose, silky curls, bounced on her shoulders. ‘No way.’
‘You can explain to anyone who asks that we got together after I rescued you when you came off the jet-ski,’ Santino continued smoothly, as if she hadn’t spoken.
Arianna opened her mouth to tell him that she would rather go to the party with Jack the Ripper than with him. Except that it wasn’t true. The glitter in Santino’s green eyes intrigued and excited her, and when he offered her his arm she hesitated before she placed her hand on his forearm. Beneath the sleeve of his jacket she felt the latent strength of sinews and muscles. His snarling tiger tattoo was hidden beneath his clothes but Santino was a dangerous beast and she must not forget it.
Tonight, however, the tiger was at least giving the appearance of being tamed. Santino escorted her outside and held the car door open while she climbed in and layers of gold tulle frothed around her. ‘Would you like the sun roof open or closed?’
She grimaced. ‘Closed, please, or my hair will look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge.’
‘I doubt you could ever look anything other than perfect.’
Arianna glanced at him when he slid into the driver’s seat, startled by the deep timbre of his voice. His eyes met hers and that feeling between them that she dared not examine too closely pulsed hard and hot. She swallowed and turned her head to stare out of the window.
‘I’m sure Davina will be delighted to see you again, as will Poppy and Posy—the very attractive blonde twins you flirted with on Jonny’s yacht,’ she reminded him drily when he looked bemused.
‘There is no need to be jealous, cara. I will only have eyes for you at the party.’
‘I’m not jealous.’ She jerked her head round to glare at him and felt certain that his lips twitched.
As he drove away from the villa she maintained a dignified silence while she struggled to regain her composure. The powerful sports car ate up the miles and soon they were flying along the Amalfi coast road, full of twists and turns and hairpin bends that Santino negotiated with skilful assurance. The scenery was dramatic, with the cliffs towering above the road on one side and a terrifying drop down to the coast on the other. The sun sinking below the horizon cast pink-and-gold streaks across the sky which were reflected on the dark, glassy sea.
Arianna was too pent up to notice the view. ‘I’m not your cara,’ she muttered, angry with herself for the way her heart had given a jolt at his careless endearment.
She had kept out of his way when they’d returned to the villa after he had found her in Positano and tension had simmered between them. But eventually boredom and loneliness had sent her down to the kitchen. Some of her happiest childhood memories were of when Ida had allowed her to help make bread, or she had sat at the table and watched Filippo, whose hobby was mending watches and clocks.
But when she’d entered the kitchen she had found Santino seated at the table, his long legs stretched out in front of him while he sipped a beer and chatted to the elderly couple. Their conversation was in Italian, and Arianna had felt like an intruder when the three of them had fallen silent. She’d quickly poured herself a glass of fruit juice and left.
It reminded her of when she’d been a teenager, on the rare occasions when she had been at home with her father and had walked into a room where he was entertaining guests. Randolph had never introduced her to his friends or asked her to join them and she had felt like an unwelcome visitor in her own home.
When she’d exited the kitchen and closed the door loudly behind her, she had heard Santino resume talking to Filippo and Ida, and her resentment of him had grown. But her conscience had pointed out that if she’d handled things differently instead of behaving like a spoilt brat he might have invited her to stay.
Silly tears stung Arianna’s eyes as she recalled how alone she had felt when she’d returned to her bedroom. The rich princess in her ivory tower. She looked at Santino’s tanned hands holding the steering wheel, before moving her gaze up to his strong profile, and asked herself why his opinion of her mattered.
‘You have an Italian name and speak the language like a native, so how were you able to serve in the British army if you are Italian?’ She gave in to her curiosity about him.
‘I have dual nationality. My father was Sicilian and my mother was English. I was born in Sicily and lived there until I was a teenager, when we moved to the south west of England.’
‘We?’
‘My parents and younger sister, Gina. My mother’s family are farmers in Devon. She met my father when she was on holiday in Sicily. Apparently they fell in love at first sight, were married within a month and I was born a year later. Madre had seemed happy living in Sicily. Sometimes I’ve wondered if she knew she was ill and wanted to go back to the place where she had grown up,’ Santino said half-beneath his breath. He glanced at Arianna. ‘My mother died from a brain tumour eighteen months after we moved to England.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘The tragedy must have been even harder for you and your father and sister to bear when you hadn’t lived in England for long.’
‘Yes.’ His voice was devoid
of emotion but she noticed that he flexed his fingers around the steering wheel and his knuckles whitened.
‘Did your father take you and your sister back to live in Sicily after your mother’s death?’
‘No, he wanted to remain in Devon to be near to her grave. My father never really recovered from her death, and when he died a few years ago I believe it was a release from his unhappiness.’
‘That’s sad, but also very poignant that he loved your mother so much.’
‘Do you think so?’ Santino’s jaw clenched. ‘My father numbed his grief with whisky and left my English grandparents to more or less bring up my sister. Gina was only eight when our mother died. She is a credit to the grandparents who took good care of her, although it is down to her own hard work that she has a successful career as a senior fashion buyer for a top department store in New York.’
Had that been a dig at her lack of a career? Arianna wondered. Santino’s sister must have been affected by the loss of their mother, but at least she’d had other family members to fill the void and give her affection. When Celine had moved to Australia and left Arianna behind, no one had paid her any attention, certainly not her father.
‘Did your grandparents take care of you too?’
‘They did their best, but I was an angry young man and I don’t suppose I was particularly likeable.’ Santino braked as he steered around a steep bend. ‘I felt like an outsider living in a tiny Devon village and, at school, my odd-sounding name and my accent made me different from the other kids. My grandparents tried to get me interested in their farm but I missed my old life and my friends in Sicily.’
He glanced at Arianna and admitted, ‘I hated spending hours every day in a cold milking shed with a bunch of cows.’ His rueful grin lit a flame inside her and she smiled back at him.
‘What made you decide to join the army?’
‘By the time I was seventeen, I’d begun to seriously go off the rails, and I’d been in trouble with the police a couple of times for minor offences. There was an army recruitment day at school, and I signed up, because being a soldier seemed a better option than getting a criminal record.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Being in the army made me feel that I belonged somewhere and gave me some self-respect.’
‘I understand what it’s like to feel lost,’ she admitted, wondering as she spoke why she had opened up to him when she had never felt an inclination to do so with anyone else.
He frowned. ‘How have you ever felt lost, Arianna? You grew up with immense privilege, you are stunningly beautiful and you have the world at your feet. If you feel lost, you only have yourself to blame,’ Santino said harshly. ‘You could use your wealth, and the media’s fascination with you, to great effect by raising money for charities or bringing awareness to social issues. But instead you do nothing better than drift from one party to another and one meaningless affair to another.’
‘Not everything you have read about me in the newspapers is true!’ she snapped, stung by his criticism. A lot of rubbish had been printed about her, but she felt a sick sense of shame when she remembered various photos of herself falling out of clubs, and on more than one occasion out of her clothes. There had been a time when getting drunk had been preferable to dealing with her emotions, and she’d sought popularity to prove to herself that she wasn’t lonely.
She turned her head away from Santino and a tense silence replaced the camaraderie that had briefly existed between them. They arrived in Amalfi, and out of the car window she saw a crowd of photographers in front of the Indira Club. Instead of stopping outside the entrance, Santino turned up a side road, and minutes later he parked the car in an alleyway at the back of the club.
‘It will be best if we enter the building through the back door,’ he said in answer to her questioning look.
‘To avoid the paparazzi, presumably. Has my father offered to pay you a bonus if you keep me out of the tabloids until after Fitzgerald Design’s stock market debut?’ she asked sarcastically.
‘Arianna...’ He seemed about to say something else, but when he put his hand on her arm she shrugged him off.
‘Randolph manipulates people. It’s all part of his control strategy. I should know, because he has tried to control me all my life,’ she told Santino bitterly before she swept past him, gathering up her long skirt in her hands to avoid brushing against a stack of empty beer crates by the back door to the club. She didn’t look round to see if he was behind her as she marched through the kitchens, ignoring the startled looks of the staff. The voice of the DJ led her to the main area of the club, where the dance floor was already packed with party guests and she spotted Jonny leaning against the bar.
‘I didn’t see you arrive,’ he said as he handed her a flute of champagne and watched her take several long sips. ‘That’s vintage Krug that you’re knocking back like lemonade, darling.’ A faint frown crossed Jonny’s pleasant features. ‘What’s wrong, Arianna?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘I just needed a drink. Do I get to dance with the birthday boy?’
‘Only if you can assure me that your ex-army boyfriend won’t rip my legs off,’ Jonny said wryly. ‘He mentioned while we were on the yacht yesterday that he had served in the forces.’
Arianna followed Jonny’s gaze across the room to where Santino was leaning against a pillar and was evidently the focus of interest of a group of women nearby. His height made him easy to pick out, and the brooding expression on his devastatingly handsome face caused her heart to give a jolt. She remembered that her father had said in his text message that Santino had been in the SAS. It would account for the steel core that she sensed ran through him. ‘It’s not what you think,’ she muttered to Jonny.
‘Maybe you should let Santino know that, if the hungry way he’s looking at you is an indication of what he’s thinking,’ Jonny murmured as he led her onto the dance floor.
For the next few hours Arianna sparkled. She flitted from one dance partner to the next like a golden butterfly, and laughed and flirted and drank too much champagne, just as everyone expected of Arianna Fitzgerald, the party princess. She congratulated herself on not looking over her shoulder for Santino, but a sixth sense told her that he was watching her, and she laughed louder and flirted more outrageously with the men who flocked around her. They seemed young and crass compared to Santino’s smouldering sensuality, and her breath rushed from her lungs when he appeared in front of her and smoothly took the place of Hugo Galbraith, with whom she had been dancing.
‘My turn, I think you’ll find,’ he told Hugo. His smile did nothing to disguise his dangerous tone and the Englishman stepped back from Arianna with alacrity. She hardly noticed Hugo walk away as her gaze tangled with Santino’s green eyes, glittering with what she belatedly realised was fury. He clamped one arm around her waist and his other hand captured hers and held it against the lapel of his jacket, just as the DJ slowed the tempo and played a haunting ballad that had topped the music charts for weeks. ‘You are obviously enjoying yourself,’ he growled.
‘Why wouldn’t I have a good time at the party?’ she countered, flashing him a brittle smile. ‘Socialising is what I do best, after all.’
She felt the muscles in his arm flex as he pulled her closer so that her cheek was pressed against the soft silk of his shirt, and his shockingly hard arousal nudged the junction between her thighs.
‘Is he here? Was he one of the pretty boys I saw you dancing with?’
Startled, her lashes swept upwards. ‘Who?’
‘Your lover.’
‘I don’t have a lover.’ Too late she remembered Santino’s assumption that she’d spent the morning with a man when she had actually been in Rosa’s workroom. ‘Um...what I mean is, no...he isn’t at the party. Would it bother you if he was here?’
‘Everything about you bothers me, cara.’
His rough voice sent a curl of heat through h
er. She told herself that she must have imagined he’d sounded possessive, or that the hard gleam in his eyes softened a fraction. But she did not imagine that he dipped his face closer to hers, so close that she was mesmerised by the sensual shape of his mouth as he brought it within a millimetre of her lips.
‘You can no doubt feel how bothered I am by you,’ he drawled. There might have been a hint of self-derision in his voice, but Arianna was only aware of his potent masculinity when he moved his hand to the small of her back and exerted pressure to bring her pelvis into burning contact with his. Feeling the solid ridge of his erection beneath his trousers elicited a flood of molten heat between her legs.
She shivered in the heat of his fire, but when his warm breath grazed her lips she whispered, ‘You said you couldn’t kiss me again.’
‘I lied,’ he muttered. And then he proved it by covering her mouth with his.
It was wild and hot. Santino’s lips moved over hers with devastating assurance, sipping her, tasting her, and she trembled at the onslaught of his fierce passion. It did not occur to Arianna to try to resist him. She pressed her body against his, needing to be closer to him. Her hands were flat on his chest and she felt the heat of him through his shirt. Between kisses she snatched a breath and the spicy scent of his aftershave that assailed her senses sent another lick of fire through her.
His kiss transported her to another universe where only they existed—where there was only the hard wall of his muscular chest against her breasts and the sweet intoxication of his mouth on hers. She was lost instantly and utterly to his mastery, and she kissed him back mindlessly as the fire inside her became an inferno.
The Virgin's Sicilian Protector Page 7
