by Annie West
Somehow she had to banish what she’d once felt for him. Wretchedly she told herself he was doing a fine job of helping her.
Jenna speared Fabrizio with a look. ‘He employed me because of my professional skills.’
‘Skills such as industrial espionage? Is that how he managed to lever a better deal in this property swap? I should have known he’d stoop to any advantage he could get, even to hiring a woman whose value is in the insider information she gleaned in my bed.’
Jenna planted her hands on her hips and willed her howling outrage into silence. She was fast losing track of the number of ways Fabrizio insulted her. Enough was enough.
‘What secrets would they be, Fabrizio? You never shared commercially sensitive information with me. In fact, as far as I recall, we never talked business, presumably because you assumed I wasn’t capable of understanding anything as taxing as profits and losses.’
He stared back at her as if she’d grown two heads. As well he might. Never in their time together had they argued and, Jenna realised now, she’d been content to go along with Fabrizio’s plans for the pair of them. She’d spent her time in a delicious haze of love, delighted at his thoughtfulness and passion. And he had been thoughtful – catering to her every whim and encouraging her delight in each new experience they shared.
How naïve she’d been. She’d never once noticed all that was wrong with their relationship until that last fateful day when the rose-coloured glasses had been dragged from her eyes and smashed underfoot.
‘You never took more than a passing interest in the career I had before I met you.’ She hadn’t realised till she left him how much that rankled. ‘Or my aspirations for the future.’
Aspirations for the future! How he’d laugh if he ever found out they’d once, briefly, centred on him.
‘I didn’t give your rival any trade secrets, Fabrizio, because you never trusted me with them!’ Jenna slid her tablet into her briefcase and snapped it shut. ‘Whatever agreement my boss negotiated with you, he did it without any input from me.’
On the contrary, if she’d had any say in the matter, which she didn’t being so low in the De Laurentis hierarchy, she’d have begged he not consider a deal that included swapping the lovely old Villa Bellini for a parcel of prime real estate in Florence, currently owned by Fabrizio Armati. She had no illusions that Fabrizio would keep her on at the Villa once it was his. The savage gleam in his eyes told her he didn’t know anything about letting bygones be bygones.
Jenna slid her briefcase from the table and turned to the door.
‘Wait! We haven’t finished.’
She shook her head. He may not have finished but she had. Jenna hung onto her composure by the merest thread. Any minute now and the welling pain she battled would swamp her, breaking down her resolve to appear in control.
She refused to let him reduce her to tears ever again.
‘We’ve finished, Fabrizio. I don’t ever need to see you again.’ She drew a shuddering breath of relief that it was true. ‘If you have any questions about the Villa, I’ll answer via email.’
Jenna had taken three steps towards the door when he spoke.
‘Weren’t you paying attention earlier, cara?’ He paused and foreboding skittered through her, freezing her spine. She didn’t like the smug satisfaction in his tone. ‘I intend to check out every corner of your precious Villa before I agree to proceed with this deal. That means I’ll be staying there over the weekend.’
Again that pause. This time it lasted so long the hair rose on her nape. When he spoke again his tone was silky yet lethal. ‘And you’ve been assigned the honour of conducting me on a personal tour.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘AS YOU CAN see, the beach is completely private.’ Fabrizio watched Jenna gesture towards the secluded cove of pristine sand between the headlands before turning briskly back to the path.
His ex-lover was nervous. From the moment he’d arrived she hadn’t been still.
Did she have any idea how movement turned her prim dark suit from corporate camouflage to pure enticement? He doubted it. She wore a distant expression and kept twitching her collar together as if the conservatively cut business shirt was too revealing.
But following her through the manicured gardens to the sea, he’d been in a perfect position to appreciate the way her skirt clung to her taut backside and gently swelling hips with every step. She’d negotiated the stairs in her high-gloss heels, more suited to a trendy office in Rome, or drinks on a secluded city terrace before a long, friendly, shared siesta.
He dragged his mind back to the purpose of his visit.
Face it, Fabrizio, she is the reason for the visit.
One of his staff could have done the final check of the hotel. But from the moment he’d realised Jenna MacDonald was working for De Laurentis, managing the place, there’d been no question but he’d take care of this himself.
Fabrizio didn’t like unfinished business and Jenna MacDonald was precisely that.
He resented it. Before her his life had been so simple. Business was serious and women were for pleasure. That had always worked for him and it was the way he intended it to work in future. But she’d upset the neat balance of his life, invading his thoughts when he should have been concentrating on bringing off yet another commercial coup.
She swung round and for the first time their eyes met. Heat soldered his gut to his pelvis as that aquamarine stare drilled into him. It was the same enticing colour as the sea fringing the golden sand. How often had he lost himself in those liquid depths as he’d surrendered himself to ecstasy?
Possessiveness roared through him. No matter what she said, she hadn’t finished with him. That surge of attraction wasn’t dead. He saw it in her eyes, in the rapid pulse beating in her throat, in the flush washing over her collarbone.
So why had she run from him?
‘Are you coming?’ she challenged.
Fabrizio clamped his jaw on a description of exactly how he’d like to come, hard and fast inside her. She’d be gasping his name, those sexy heels locked behind him as he drove her to heaven, recanting her lie that she’d grown bored with him.
‘Of course. I don’t want to miss a moment.’
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Our clients enjoy it here as much for the seclusion as for the coast, but there’s a spectacular view of the sea from every guest room.’
‘So you can listen to the waves from your bed? I understand it’s supposed to be very soothing.’
Her eyes widened. Obviously she remembered telling him that when he’d once taken her to Sorrento for the weekend. The closest they’d got to the sea was the balcony of their bedroom as they feasted on seafood and wine before abandoning the meal in favour of their bed.
Fabrizio swallowed a growl of protest at what she’d thrown away. As lovers they’d been spectacular together. Even out of bed, chatting easily, finding shared likes and dislikes, they’d been remarkably…compatible.
‘As you say, Villa Bellini is the ultimate in luxury relaxation. It’s an excellent investment.’ She turned and began climbing the rock-cut steps up the cliff.
He stood back and enjoyed the view. His fingers prickled and his pulse revved at the temptation of that ripe peach bottom lovingly outlined with every step she took.
Fabrizio shook himself. He was here because he wanted answers.
And vengeance, though he was unsure what form that would take.
Now he realised all that could wait.
What he wanted most urgently was Jenna.
Fabrizio took the stairs three at a time, halting close behind her as she reached the cliff top, crowding her so she swung round, a gasp on her ruby lips. A few wisps of gold had escaped the hair she’d secured so neatly and her face was flushed with exertion. He smiled, imagining her panting for breath beneath him, her hips cradling him, her skin like silk against his.
She must have read his thoughts for suddenly she was retreating, almost stumbli
ng back along the white gravel path as he stalked towards her.
She swallowed hard then seemed to gather herself. She stopped and stood straight, her hand going to her collar in that tell-tale gesture. Her chin lifted and her eyebrows arched as if challenging him.
Hadn’t she realised yet he never ignored a challenge?
Fabrizio smiled slowly and watched her mouth tighten.
‘Now that you’ve seen the grounds, and the security arrangements, I’ll leave you in Guido’s capable hands for the rest of the tour. I’m afraid I have—’
‘Whatever other work you have, you can forget it.’ He paused, letting that sink in. ‘You’re mine for the duration of this visit.’
Her gasp of outrage was loud and delightfully satisfying. Had she really thought she could wipe her hands of him as if he was some nobody?
‘De Laurentis assured me you’d answer all my questions personally. And I have lots of questions.’ Purposefully he stepped forward, almost brushing her shoulder as he passed. ‘We’ll start in the kitchens.’
IT WAS DUSK by the time they finished. Fabrizio had been meticulous in his attention to detail and relentless in his questioning.
It was only the second time Jenna had seen Fabrizio the billionaire hotelier, rather than Fabrizio the charming, charismatic lover. Despite herself, she was impressed.
Whatever his reasons for putting her through the torture of a day in his company, she was in no doubt how he’d transformed his already sizeable inheritance into a commercial empire of luxury hotels. She’d always known him to be quick-witted and intelligent, but hours answering his probing questions left her both exhausted and admiring. His interest in every aspect of the business, and the way his thoughts galloped ahead to potential opportunities and problems were impressive. Her goal was one day to run a hotel of her own and in other circumstances it would have been wonderful to work for him.
If it weren’t for the history between them.
She pushed open the double doors to the royal suite. The spacious foyer led into a grand salon, decorated in muted greens and golds, reflecting the colours of the gardens, sea and sandy beach visible through the open French doors.
He walked past her, taking in with a sweeping glance the priceless antiques and meticulous perfection of the delicate silk hangings and fine art.
Carefully she shut the door to the hallway and crossed the lovingly polished wood floor. Another five minutes to show him his suite and she’d be free. She sighed, imagining half an hour in a scented bath, sipping a glass of her favourite Frascati.
‘I applaud your attention to detail.’ He’d stopped to investigate the bottle of wine nestling in the silver wine cooler. Beside it was an artistically arranged platter of summer fruit and a selection of wafer-thin almond and citrus biscotti. ‘No grapes, I notice.’
‘You only enjoy grapes as a source of wine.’ Jenna shrugged. ‘Why serve what I know you don’t like?’ She made no apology for providing his favourite wine either.
‘Using your inside information about me?’ His expression wasn’t accusing, just curious.
‘Why not? I’m sure you’d do the same. Besides, it’s my job to ensure your stay here is a success.’
Because then he’d acquire the hotel from Luca De Laurentis. She repressed a sigh. Once Fabrizio owned the place, she’d be out of a job and the one she’d been offered by Luca, while fantastic on paper, was far from the sort of work she dreamed of. A promotion to a huge city hotel would be challenging and a step up the career ladder, but Jenna preferred the challenges of delivering high-quality service in a smaller, more intimate hotel.
‘You’re young to manage this.’ A wide gesture encompassed the estate.
Jenna smoothed her hand down her jacket and busied herself turning on lamps. ‘Twenty-eight isn’t so young. And I’m the relieving manager. The permanent manager is on sick leave.’
But Fabrizio was right. The chance to take on responsibility for this jewel of a hotel had been a thrilling, if initially daunting responsibility. She adored it. This was exactly the sort of work at which she excelled.
‘Let me show you your suite.’
‘I thought you’d never offer.’
Stoically Jenna ignored his murmured jibe and led the way through a private dining area to the vast master bedroom.
It hit her as she paused in the doorway that the decorator might have had Fabrizio in mind when designing this space. With a more modern yet no less deluxe atmosphere, the room blended silvery pewter and charcoal shades. The dying light and billowing sheer curtains created a softness that contrasted with its clean lines. A spotlight illuminated an exquisite antique stone carving of a horse, almost but not quite drawing the eye from the vast bed.
Jenna’s breath clogged in her throat as she felt him come up behind her, close enough for his heat to warm her. And still she had trouble dragging her eyes from that silvery bedspread.
Her knees were unsteady as she marched across the room, collecting a remote control to open wide the curtains.
She was tired, that’s all, after a day confined with the one man who’d always been able to make her weak-kneed. He hadn’t lost that ability, even when he’d lost her respect. Jenna castigated herself for still being affected by him. Even the sound of his deep, dark chocolate voice was a secret delight when he wasn’t throwing jibes her way.
‘And here’s the bathroom.’ She put down the remote and stepped into the room of travertine marble and glass. The view of the sea from the sunken bath was perfection and no expense had been spared. She gestured to a collection of crystal jars. ‘The bath salts are labelled.’
Not that Fabrizio would bother. He was a shower man, only soaking in a tub when sharing.
Fire washed her breasts and throat at the unwanted memory and she spun around, only to find herself impaled by hot silver eyes. His stare sent a shiver of erotic heat rippling from her nipples to her womb as easily as if he’d flicked a switch.
She knew that look. How well she knew it!
And her body’s response.
Jenna blinked and stepped back instinctively, horrified and ashamed at how longing instantly slammed into her. She came up against the cool marble countertop, hands clutching the hard surface.
Fabrizio moved further into the room, his gaze never wavering. She swallowed a lump of panic and cleared her throat.
‘Would you like to see the rest of the suite now?’ Her voice was too throaty, like an invitation. She swallowed again.
‘Why bother? One bed is enough.’ His voice dipped low.
Enough for what? He wasn’t talking about sleep, not with that predatory gleam in his eyes.
The atmosphere between them sparked with static energy that sucked the oxygen from the air. Her body grew heavy as the pulse of her blood turned sluggish and expectant.
Jenna shook her head, her eyes never leaving his as he came to a halt well inside her personal space.
‘If you don’t want to see any more, I’ll leave you to relax and explore at your leisure.’ Her voice was clipped and cool. If you ignored its husky edge. ‘Will you dine here or downstairs?’
‘I’m not ready to relax. I find myself…restless.’ His mouth curved in a smile as sharp as a tiger’s. ‘And it’s not dinner I’m hungry for.’
He lifted a hand as if to brush her cheek and her head reared back, indignation exploding at his innuendo.
‘You really think you can just walk in here and have…’ Jenna shook her head, unable to say the words.
‘Have you?’ His smile widened. ‘Oh, yes.’
Outrage poured through her, drenching the betraying spark of arousal she’d felt from the moment he’d got close.
‘You have the most colossal ego.’ She straightened, her hands fisting at her sides as she fought not to lash out. ‘I’ll leave the two of you alone to enjoy the company.’ She stepped forward, turning her shoulder as she brushed past him.
There was a bark of laughter, abrupt and surprisingly appealing,
then strong fingers clamped around her wrist.
‘Not so fast.’
She stopped, heart thumping, and stared down to where his hard, olive-skinned fingers shackled her hand. Six whole months since he’d touched her, a fleeting kiss at her throat before he left her in the cool of dawn, and still he had the power to undo her. If she let him.
Jenna shivered, control hanging by a thread. ‘Let. Me. Go.’
‘You must be joking.’ Her gaze wrenched up to snare on his. ‘Now that I’ve finally found you I won’t let you go so easily.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘FINALLY FOUND ME?’ Jenna shook her head so violently wisps of hair feathered around her cheeks. ‘That implies you missed me, which is impossible since by definition a mistress is disposable and replaceable.’
She kept her expression shuttered. Not by so much as a flicker of reaction would she let him guess how much the word mistress hurt. How hearing Fabrizio describe her like that, so dismissively, had curdled the secret hope she’d once nurtured.
His eyes narrowed and she felt his scrutiny like a blade scraping sensitive skin. She jerked her arm back but couldn’t break his hold.
‘It also implies you looked for me.’ Her mouth twisted with sour humour. ‘Which, again, we both know you’re far too busy to do. So don’t play games with me, Fabrizio.’
If she’d expected to see a spark of shame or regret she’d have been disappointed. Just as well she’d come to accept that her ex-lover would never feel anything so honest for her.
He looked more furious than ever. Despite his passionate nature, Fabrizio’s brand of anger was of the ice-cold variety. His face turned stony, his jaw set in a grim line that would have looked right at home on some ancient Roman gladiator. Those pale eyes were like shards of ice as they raked her.
‘Oh, I looked, cara.’ His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. ‘I scoured Rome for you. Have you any idea how dangerous the city can be for a woman alone? And at that time?’ He gave her hand a little shake. ‘When they told me you’d left the palazzo before it was even properly light! Per la Madonna!’
