Seduced by the Enemy

by Alyssa J. Montgomery

  Seduced by the Enemy

  Alyssa J Montgomery

  romance.com.au/escapepublishing/

  Seduced by The Enemy

  Alyssa J Montgomery

  Olivia

  I have every reason to know the Borghettis are pure evil …

  So why won’t my heart listen to my head?

  Luca Borghetti might be pure Italian sex appeal, and powerful, and a damn billionaire, but he and his family are responsible for EVERYTHING I’ve lost. My sister. The baby. My father. All gone because of him.

  Luca

  I may have made mistakes, with tragic results, but one thing I know: I will protect what I love. No matter what.

  And this woman will give me what I want. No matter how self-interested she is.

  Hatred. That’s all these sparks between us are. But it doesn’t matter. This heartless woman has what Christiana needs and whatever that little girl needs, I will get.

  But if what Olivia is telling me is true … someone has lied to both of us.

  From hotshot contemporary author Alyssa J. Montgomery comes a passionate enemies-to-lovers story of an Italian billionaire and an Australian primary school teacher as they fight for the life of a child they both love—and fight the flames of attraction burning between them.

  About the author

  ALYSSA continues to work in her private practice as a Speech-Language Pathologist. Previously she’s done a stint with Qantas Airways as an international flight attendant, completed her Master of Science degree in Health Policy and Management, and has also been a professional pianist.

  Alyssa lives with her husband and three children on a five acre property nestled into a mountain range south of Sydney, Australia, and enjoys having the space to have gardens, a dog, horses, goats and chickens. Visits from the native wildlife (echidnas, wallabies and a variety of native birds) are particularly welcome … although visits from native wildlife with scales and fangs aren’t met with quite as much enthusiasm!

  If you’d like to know more about me, my books, or to connect with me online, you can visit my webpage alyssajmontgomery.com follow me on Twitter @Alyssaromance, or like my Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/AlyssaJMontgomery

  Acknowledgements

  As always, my husband has been my rock—supporting and encouraging me in writing this novel just as he supports me in everything I do. He takes over some of my domestic duties at times when I’m juggling all my responsibilities and writing deadlines approach. My children continue to respect that my writing is important and give me space to pursue this interest. There aren’t enough superlative adjectives for my former Managing Editor, Kate Cuthbert from Escape Publishing. Kate has been thoroughly supportive and the entire team at Escape Publishing, Harlequin Enterprises Australia make publication a joy. Thanks also to my fabulous editor Brooke Halliwell and to my newest Beta reader, Brandi Morrone for her feedback!

  To my parents, Jack and June, who’ve been happily married for 68 years and raised five children in a wonderfully loving family. Mum and Dad, you’ve been fabulous role-models for marriage and parenting. The closeness of your children and grandchildren both to you and to each other is a huge credit to you. Thank you for everything you’ve done and continue to do for all of us. xx

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing...

  Chapter 1

  Who in God’s name knocked so insistently on anybody’s door at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning?

  A disgruntled growl emerged from Olivia’s throat as she tried to wake up properly and haul herself out of bed. Damn! The protest made her realise her throat was sore.

  All the more reason why she should be sleeping in today.

  After a hellishly difficult term of teaching she was exhausted beyond belief and, thanks to some virus she’d picked up, her body felt like it’d been run over by a truck.

  One more week to go until school holidays.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Hell. There it was again.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she croaked as she threw on a dressing gown, but there was still no end to the imperious knocking.

  So much for living in one of Sydney’s quieter suburbs. Whoever was at her front door seemed intent on waking the entire neighbourhood.

  Olivia moved as quickly as she could down the hallway to the front door. Still a little fuzzy-headed, she turned the key in the lock and yanked the door open in agitation.

  Craning her neck, she looked up at her visitor. Hard, coal-black eyes blasted her with hot antagonism. For a split-second she struggled to free herself from the visual snare, but when she managed to absorb the rest of his features, she gasped.

  Even as her brain reeled against the reality of his identity, her heart catapulted against her ribcage and the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rose in alarm. She’d never met the man, but she recognised him immediately as her sworn enemy.

  A reactive surge of adrenaline forced her to take a defensive step backward. Too late, she realised she’d opened the door wider despite every impulse screaming at her to slam it shut, double-lock it and secure the bolt.

  ‘I’m—’

  ‘I know exactly who you are, Mr Borghetti,’ she hurled at him with resentment. His name tasted unpleasant on her tongue and although she was all too aware of the tight, downward pull of the muscles at the corners of her lips, she didn’t try to hide her contempt.

  The second she’d uttered his name like a vulgar profanity, his eyes widened. The stiffening of his spine added even more height to his six-feet-something stature and indignation radiated off him in waves.

  He was insulted?

  How could he possess any pride in his name when it represented the destruction of her family?

  ‘May I come in?’

  There wasn’t the slightest hint of remorse in his features for the brutal way in which he’d treated her sister.

  ‘You must be joking!’ Disgusted she’d allowed him to intrude on her life for even this short period of time, Olivia started to close the door. Her action met with resistance when his foot, clad in an expensive-looking leather shoe, slid forward. Then, his arm shot out to push the door open wider.

  ‘I don’t think so, Miss Temple.’ Every syllable carried a dark warning made more sinister by the deep, commanding voice with a very distinct Italian accent. ‘You and I need to talk.’

  Talk? The only words she had to say to him would be ones she’d never generally utter aloud, and nothing he could say would compensate for his ruthless actions and earn him her forgiveness.

  ‘Go back to whichever rock you crawled out from under.’ She shoved her shoulder against the door, putting all her weight behind her action, but her effort was futile. A very real frisson of fear snaked its way through her as she registered his physical strength.

  This man was an aggressor. Even if she hadn’t recognised him, the threat he posed was evident in the forward thrust of his clenched, square jaw; the grim, determined set of his mouth and the rigid set of his shoulders.

  Scared now, she glanced beyond him to the suburban street hoping someone would be walking past at this early hour, but there was nobody in sight.
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  ‘What I have to say is better discussed in private,’ he declared.

  ‘You’re not welcome here.’ Her grip tightened around the door handle as she maintained her stance, pushing back against his resistance even as she realised he wasn’t using anywhere near the power he had at his disposal. ‘Go away or I’ll scream.’

  ‘I’m not here to hurt you.’

  ‘Really?’ A harsh, scoffing sound emerged from her throat. ‘How comforting.’

  His actions had already destroyed two of the people she’d held dearest in her world. How could he possibly hurt her anymore than he already had?

  ‘It’s important,’ he insisted.

  ‘You’re lower than a sewer rat, Borghetti. Whatever it is, I’m not listening.’

  A flicker of shock crossed his chiselled features as his gaze swept over her, then his lip curled in distaste.

  Her body trembled with rage. Who did he think he was, standing there looking down his straight, aristocratic nose at her?

  ‘What you want is immaterial. I’ve flown from Rome to speak with you and you will listen.’

  Anxiety morphed into near hysteria as she read the sheer, bloody danger in his expression and knew his demands weren’t to be easily dismissed. Heart pounding, her stomach clenched with dread and loathing. His branch of the Borghetti family was linked to a web of criminal activities in Italy and she’d learned the hard way that his father was every bit as powerful as a Mafia Don.

  ‘I know what you are.’ This man was as good as a murderer. The blood of her sister—whose only sin had been to fall in love with him—stained his hands. He was also to blame for the death of her father. ‘Leave me alone!’

  The sharp, cramping ache of her tightened fingers around the door handle barely registered through her deep emotional pain.

  ‘You’d be wise to stop wasting my time,’ he warned.

  No doubt he was used to making demands and having everything go his way.

  Olivia’s control snapped at the unfairness of it all. ‘You bastard!’ she vented before she wrenched the door open completely, and leapt at him like a tigress.

  Gaining a strength borne from five years of tightly suppressed emotion, her hands clenched into fists. Catching him off-guard, she pummelled at him with a force she’d never known she possessed and an energy which surged through her, despite her body’s virus-weakened state. The need to inflict bodily harm on this man was all-consuming and the searing pain of her hatred took over and obliterated all reason. She’d never be able to make him pay physically for the deaths of her sister and father, but by God she wanted to hurt him.

  In those seconds she didn’t even register the physical threat he could pose to her.

  Grief raged within her and hot tears scalded her cheeks as she struck him, but her attack was short-lived. Within mere moments he’d gripped her flying fists firmly in his hands, preventing further strikes against the solid wall of his chest.

  Her normally reasonable, level-headed mind was void to everything but her shocking losses as she struggled against him. The anguish she’d known every day since the official, detached voice had informed her via telephone that her sister lay in a morgue thousands of kilometres away, ripped afresh at Olivia’s heart.

  She was helpless in her struggle against her enemy in the same way she’d been unable to prevent her father from dying from a severe heart attack minutes after he’d learned of the dreadful news.

  Tears obscured Olivia’s vision as she remembered watching her dad clutch his chest and his face contort with pain. She was still haunted by the sound of her father’s last guttural gasp for breath before he’d collapsed to the floor.

  The same sense of panic consumed Olivia now as she recalled the desperation of trying to administer CPR. Doggedly and in complete denial, she’d persisted for an interminable length of time until she’d finally slumped over her dad’s lifeless body.

  Olivia’s agonised wailing had alerted a neighbour to the tragedy, but Olivia had no clear recollection of what had followed immediately afterwards. The only thing she remembered was her dad’s body being taken away as her mother returned home, and how she’d had to break the news of two family deaths to her mum.

  Since that night, her home had been clouded by a depressing aura. Once filled with love, joy and laughter, her childhood home now echoed eerily with sadness. At times it struck her that the very walls seemed to weep silently at the tragedy of two lives needlessly cut short.

  The silence was broken now though—replaced by a hideous, furious, feral screaming she didn’t even recognise as coming from her raw throat as she twisted and pulled, trying to break free from Borghetti’s hold.

  ‘Stop,’ he commanded.

  There was no way she could stop.

  It was all this man’s fault.

  All her loss was his fault.

  ‘No,’ she raged. Her hands were useless so she tried to kick out at him while she sobbed, but he pulled her so hard up against him she couldn’t even knee him in the groin.

  Tears of frustration spilt from her eyes and ran down her cheeks because it was useless to fight against him. No wound she might be able to inflict on this man could bring Jane or her father back.

  Beyond the point of emotional and physical exhaustion she knew she’d lost her fight. It became a battle to fill her lungs with oxygen; and then each short, shallow breath she managed to gulp in, abraded her throat.

  Her legs weakened and her head began to spin. Right at the periphery of her awareness she registered he’d wrestled her inside the house. The door was closed to the outside world and she was trapped with no chance of escaping from him.

  A whooshing sound filled her ears and the well-cut line of his navy blue suit lapel blurred in front of her eyes.

  ‘Stop it,’ he ordered again in an unsympathetic, dictatorial tone. ‘You’re hyperventilating.’ He gave her a slight shake. ‘There’s no need for this behaviour.’

  Darkness began crowding her.

  It beckoned her.

  It seduced her with its call to merciful oblivion and its promise to take away her panic and her pain.

  Completely spent, she gave in to the darkness. Her limbs grew weaker and heavier until she escaped from her enemy in the only way she could—by passing out.

  Chapter 2

  Luca Borghetti uttered a sharp expletive as he supported the slight frame of the blonde, pyjama-clad woman who’d collapsed against him.

  Inferno! He didn’t have time for this.

  What was the matter with her?

  After all he’d learned about her, he’d loathed having to come here to deal with her. He’d expected to have to buy her cooperation, but he hadn’t even been able to make his offer.

  Nothing had prepared him for the unhinged wrath of this madwoman. She’d been completely and inexplicably irrational from the moment she’d opened her front door—as though she hated him.

  After all these years was she still furious because she hadn’t managed to blackmail his brother for more money?

  Despite Luca’s contempt for her, he lifted her up carefully and walked the short distance into the living room so he could place her on the worn settee.

  Was she on drugs?

  It was the only conclusion he could reach after her unwarranted, aggressive behaviour. If he was right, she was going to be rehabilitated in lightning quick time, because she was totally worthless to him as a drug addict.

  As he shifted a cushion behind her head so it wasn’t lolling at an awkward angle, a throaty little murmur escaped through her lips. The soft, almost-wounded sound made him still. For a moment he felt unsettled—as though something indefinable but fundamental had shifted at the core of him.

  Porca miseria! He was more jet lagged than he’d realised.

  Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Luca registered a light, seductive, floral fragrance. He wasn’t sure whether it was the scent of her soap, perfume or shampoo but it wove inexplicably around his senses and teased
them with the promise of feminine sweetness.

  Under different circumstances … Merda!

  What was he thinking? How could he forget, even for a second, the sordid, mercenary character of this woman and the vital importance of his visit here? How could he forget that—like his ex-wife—she didn’t feel any special connection with the gift of human life?

  Despite himself, there was a basic, masculine part of him responding to her vulnerable femininity as she lay defenceless on the settee—some elemental instinct making him want to help her when she was so clearly in need. It overrode his knowledge that she was selfish to the core and that her uppermost goal had been to accrue wealth by whatever means possible.

  As he reached out to take her wrist and check her pulse, he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on her face. Although she still bore a strong resemblance to the photograph taken by his brother more than five years ago, in some ways it didn’t do her justice. Now the wild rage had left her features, he was struck by the fragile beauty she possessed.

  Fragile beauty? Was her madness contagious?

  There’d been nothing fragile about the demented woman who’d attacked him moments before and nothing fragile about a woman who could’ve entered into the arrangement she’d had with his brother.

  How could Antonio have been so foolish as to become involved with such a violent, mentally unstable woman?

  With a frustrated shake of his head, Luca registered the steady beat of her pulse before sliding up the loose sleeves of her robe and pyjama top to check her arms for needle marks.

  Nothing.

  Taking a couple of paces back and forth in front of her prone form, he deliberated whether he should try to rouse her back to consciousness or call an ambulance.

  At least her complexion had recovered some of its colour. She still looked as washed out as she had when she’d first opened the door, but not as ghostly white as she’d become immediately after she’d recognised him.