Mary Lyons - The Italian Seduction

by The Italian Seduction (lit)

  ‘Why don’t you sit here, darling?’ she murmured with a soft, winsome smile.

  ‘No, thank you,’ he retorted through gritted teeth, clearly furious at having to maintain a fixed, pleasant expression m his face, solely for the benefit of his hosts and their guests. ‘I’m sure one of the other ladies would prefer to...’

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling—I insist that you sit there,’ she told him firmly, accompanying her words with another sim­pering, entirely false smile. A smile which had those pres­ent gazing indulgently at what they, quite mistakenly, as­sumed to be a loving couple.

  As Lorenzo stood glaring down at her, his body taut and rigid with anger at finding himself totally outmanoeuvred, she thought for one, wild moment that he might throw cau­tion to the winds and indulge in a spectacular loss of tem­per. However, after what appeared to be a massive inner struggle, he finally managed to bring himself under control.

  ‘Why don’t you go to hell!’ he ground out savagely under his breath as, very reluctantly, he lowered himself into the chair.

  ‘Only if you lead the way, sweetie!’ she retorted with a grin, before seating herself just behind his tall figure.

  As the house lights dimmed and the orchestra began play­ing the overture, Lorenzo leaned back in his comfortable wd plush seat, a bland expression on his face—and murder in his heart!

  He’d never, in the whole of his life, been tempted to even think of using violence of any kind against a woman. Which made it all the more shocking to now find himself actively contemplating—with considerable pleasure!—the untimely demise of Miss Antonia Simpson.

  Right from the moment that bossy, thoroughly irritating Young woman had marched so confidently into his hotel suite, earlier this evening, he’d suspected that she was likely to be up to no good. And how right he’d been. Because the brazen hussy had turned out to be nothing but trouble, with a capital T!

  What had he ever done to deserve such a fate? Lorenzo asked himself grimly as, on the stage below the box, the chorus and orchestra wound themselves up for the grand entrance of Otello—returning home to Venice in triumph, after soundly beating the Turkish Navy.

  Living most of the year in Milan, he’d regularly visited La Scala—in his opinion, the greatest opera house in the world. And he had, of course, seen many productions of Verdi’s tragic opera, based on the play Othello, by William Shakespeare.

  But only now did it occur to him that the story of a man driven out of his mind by external forces and culminating in his murder of his wife, Desdemona, seemed strangely appropriate to his own current predicament.

  Don’t be ridiculous! It’s time you got a grip on the sit­uation! Lorenzo lectured himself sternly.

  The fact that Antonia Simpson had managed to have ev­erything her own way, so far, was no reason to allow her to push him around for the foreseeable future. Which meant that the sooner he got his act together the better.

  Oh, yes! It was about time he taught that domineering, high-handed, so-called ‘bodyguard’ of his a lesson which she wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

  For her part, and greatly to her surprise, Antonia found herself enjoying the opera. In fact, she would have found it totally absorbing if she hadn’t been required to be fully alert on behalf of Lorenzo Foscari.

  This was definitely the last job she’d ever take on for that ratfink James Riley. Goodness knows, she’d looked after some tiresome people in the past. But this oh, so ma­cho Italian—who clearly should have been strangled at birth—just about took the biscuit!

  All the same, maybe it hadn’t been too clever of her to try and score a few points off the swine just now, she told herself. Recalling her impression, earlier in the evening, that he was as tricky and unpredictable as dynamite, she realised it might possibly have been a mistake to have mo­mentarily lost her own temper-simply because she’d con­sidered him guilty of bad manners.

  Because, however tempting it might have been to cut the man down to size, it definitely wasn’t the response expected from an experienced and highly capable bodyguard.

  She was a professional, Antonia reminded herself firmly. Which was why, despite all provocation, she must strive to maintain an air of cool, calm efficiency and detachment remaining totally aloof and objective at all times. It also meant, she told herself grimly, that she was going to have to find some way of coping with this extraordinarily diffi­cult man.

  Unfortunately, it was becoming clear that Lorenzo Foscari wasn’t just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill client.

  He was, of course, extremely arrogant and overbearing. Not to mention his quite extraordinary, old-fashioned, chau­vinistic attitude to women. The way he’d gone completely ballistic, at the appointment of a female bodyguard was totally ridiculous in this day and age.

  On the other hand ... well ... there was no denying the fact that he did possess a disturbing aura of rampant sex appeal. And, when he wasn’t busy losing his temper, he appeared to have been born with an equally large quota of over­whelming, almost mesmerising charm. Charm which he was quite prepared to use as a weapon, she reminded her­self sharply, recalling his unscrupulous attempts to under­mine her contract with his insurance company.

  So, the fact that the man was a high-octane, lethal mix­ture of barely leashed force and aggression, coupled with an almost irresistible warmth and attraction, meant that he wasn’t just a difficult man, but also a highly complex one. There was no doubt that she was going to have to keep her wits about her, at all times, Antonia told herself with a heavy sigh. There was no way she’d be able to relax her guard on this job! A conclusion that was reinforced as she turned to view the man sitting on her left, just slightly in front of her own chair.

  Despite the dim light within the box, and with only his sharply etched profile in view, one didn’t need a very high IQ to read Lorenzo Foscari’s body language. And the mes­sage it conveyed was not a happy one.

  The muscle beating furiously in his tightly clenched jaw, and the rigidly tense, broad shoulders beneath his expensive black dinner jacket provided plenty of evidence that the guy was still very angry. Maybe the wonderful music would help him to calm down?

  Rarely attending concerts in the Albert Hall, Antonia had forgotten that the larger boxes surrounding the auditorium also contained a small, individual area at the back—de­signed for the service of food and drink during the interval.

  Since Giles and Susie Harding had been kind enough to include her in their party, she felt the least she could do when the curtain came down for the interval, to give Susie a hand with the light supper—which the older woman had brought with her in a large picnic hamper.

  ‘I’ve kept it very simple,’ Susie told her, removing var­ious plates from the wicker basket. ‘Just champagne, smoked salmon sandwiches and, to finish the meal, some strawberries and cream.’

  ‘It sounds absolutely delicious—and not at all simple!’ Antonia said with a slight laugh as the older woman delved into the hamper to extract some icy cold bottles of cham­pagne.

  ‘Well ...I really meant that it took the minimum of effort. Because all I had to do was to make the sandwiches,’ Susie explained with a grin, before handing the champagne to her husband, with a brisk instruction to make sure that every­one had enough to drink.

  ‘So, tell me,’ Susie enquired as she tipped the strawber­ries into a large bowl, ‘have you known Lorenzo for long?’

  ‘No. We ...er...we only met fairly recently,’ Antonia murmured, glancing quickly across the room to where Lorenzo appeared to be deep in conversation with the stuffy banker.

  ‘He and Giles were at school together, so dear Lorenzo is one of our oldest friends,’ Susie explained. ‘He’s gor­geous, isn’t he? So attractive, so charming...and so rich. An absolutely lethal combination!’ she added with a grin.

  Wondering whether she was being warned off, Antonia was just about to reassure her hostess that she and Lorenzo were definitely not interested in one another, when Susie quickly shook her head.
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  ‘Oh, no—don’t get me wrong. Giles and I are absolutely delighted that Lorenzo has brought you along here tonight,’ she said, placing the sandwiches on some small plates for distribution amongst the guests. ‘We reckon that it’s about time he stopped living life in the fast lane, and settled down with a wife—and lots of bambini too, of course!’ Susie added with a grin. ‘So, if he has finally managed to dump that awful woman, Gina Lombardi, I couldn’t be more happy! In fact,’ she confided with a wink, ‘Giles and I reckon that you and Lorenzo are just made for each other!’

  This is getting to be a very heavy scene! Antonia told herself, giving the other woman a brief, noncommittal smile.

  Deliberately trying to score a few points off the foul man was one thing. But Giles and Susie were obviously a very nice couple. So she really didn’t like the idea of trying to deliberately deceive or fool them into believing that she was romantically involved with Lorenzo.

  ‘To tell you the truth, Susie, as far as Lorenzo and I are concerned...’ She paused, carefully choosing her words as she continued, ‘Well, the fact is...’

  ‘The fact is...we’re simply mad with each other!’ Lorenzo’s deep voice completed the sentence, from just behind her left shoulder.

  Startled by his sudden appearance, Antonia found herself taken utterly by surprise as he quickly slipped an arm about her waist, before firmly clasping her to the side of his strong body.

  ‘No—you idiot!’ Susie laughingly told him. ‘The correct expression is not mad with but mad about each other.’

  ‘Ah, yes—I must improve my use of the English lan­guage,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘However, darling Antonia knows exactly how I feel about her. Isn’t that right, sweetie?’

  Damn right I do! she told herself grimly, wondering how he’d managed to creep up on her so quickly and silently? She must be slipping, because it wasn’t like her to be taken by surprise like this.

  Unfortunately, unless she was prepared to cause a scene, there was nothing she could do to free herself from the hard, muscular strength of the arm which was keeping her so tightly pinned against his tall figure.

  ‘I’m so lucky to have Antonia looking after me. We have such a close relationship,’ Lorenzo was telling his hostess. ‘Mmm...strawberries! How delicious. They’re my favour­ite fruit,’ he added, reaching forward to pick a very large, succulent berry from the bowl as Antonia turned her head to glare up at him.

  ‘You’re fond of them too, aren’t you, darling?’ he mur­mured, smiling so warmly and tenderly down at the girl clasped to his side that Susie found herself giving a small sigh of pure envy.

  ‘Yes, they’re very nice,’ Antonia muttered, still feeling slightly confused and thrown off balance by the way Lorenzo was suddenly playing the part of her red-hot lover. Especially as she was only too well aware of the chilly, icy cold gleam in the eyes staring down into her own.

  ‘However, I was just telling Susie that ...Whaa-aa...!’ she gasped as Lorenzo adroitly popped the large strawberry into her mouth, rendering her temporarily speechless.

  ‘Mmm...yes, they clearly are delicious!’ he murmured, his lips twitching with sardonic laughter as he viewed

  Antonia’s cheeks bulging while she struggled to cope with a huge mouthful of juicy red fruit.

  ‘Would you like some more, darling?’ he added, main­taining the firm grip of his arm about her body as he reached forward to choose another large fruit from the bowl.

  ‘Nuh!’ Antonia mumbled helplessly, giving a quick shake d her head, and glaring up at him with utter loathing.

  ‘Isn’t she amusing?’ Lorenzo exclaimed as Antonia gulped, finally managing to swallow the huge strawberry. And then, with Susie looking on and beaming at what she clearly regarded as a happy couple, he lowered his dark head as if about to kiss his new girlfriend’s cheek.

  But, even as she instinctively flinched, quickly turning her head away from him, she realised that he’d never had any intention of kissing her. Far from it.

  Pressing his lips to her ear, he whispered savagely, ‘Let that be a lesson, sweetie! Never make the mistake of trying to mess around with me, again—or you’ll be very sorry! OK?’

  He waited until she gave a slight nod before loosening his grip on her waist and strolling off to have a word with Giles Harding.

  ‘You’re so lucky!’ Susie sighed deeply, before turning away to hand small plates of sandwiches to the banker and his wife.

  Oh, yeah? Antonia’s eyes narrowed with baffled rage and fury as she stared at Lorenzo, who’d clearly regained his good humour as she saw him laughing at something his host was saying. If she ever got the chance for revenge, she promised herself grimly, that arrogant swine was defi­nitely going to regret, what he’d just done!

  Following the performance, the short journey back to the hotel was conducted in silence. Which was mainly due to the fact that Antonia, after battling to control her anger during the last act of the opera, was still trying to simmer down and pull herself together.

  She knew that she’d been originally in the wrong, and so might have been prepared to call it quits, and do her best to forget the incident, if Lorenzo Foscari hadn’t been so cheerful. Although, what he had to be so happy about was absolutely beyond her. However, it looked as if putting her down had done his own temper a power of good, she told herself sourly.

  Glancing through her eyelashes at the hawk-like profile of the man sitting beside her, she noted that he was still quietly humming a tune from the opera, while taking an interest in the brilliantly lit shop windows of Knightsbridge.

  After directing the car to the rear of the hotel, and ar­ranging which guards could be released and which should stay on duty, Antonia accompanied Lorenzo up the back stairs towards his suite.

  She had to calm down, she told herself firmly. If Lorenzo Foscari wanted to play stupid games—that was entirely up to him. She, for her part, must remain totally calm and professional at all times.

  ‘Well ...that was a very interesting evening,’ he drawled as they entered the suite. ‘Can I fix you a drink?’ he added, walking across the carpet to a bar, in a far corner of the large sitting room.

  ‘No, thank you. I never drink when on duty.’

  ‘Ah, yes...I’ve been thinking about your duties as my personal bodyguard,’ he murmured, pouring himself a stiff whisky, before turning around to give her a broad smile. ‘And I came to one or two interesting conclusions.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Antonia eyed him warily. She was beginning to realise that when Lorenzo Foscari turned on the charm he generally had some devious objective in mind.

  He shrugged. ‘We both know that I was. less than pleased to find myself landed with a bodyguard. Nor was I too happy to discover that she was female. Not that I have anything against women, of course...’

  ‘You could have fooled me!’

  ‘It’s just that I foresaw certain ... er ... difficulties in such an appointment,’ he continued, clearly choosing to ignore her interjection. ‘However, after giving the situation much thought, I suddenly realised that those “difficulties” were, in fact, a positive bonus!’

  She frowned. ‘Sorry—I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I’m talking about the fact that, as my bodyguard, you are concerned with the close and personal protection of my body,’ he drawled smoothly, walking slowly over to where she was standing by the doorway.

  ‘So?’

  ‘You have, I understand, been hired to guard my body for twenty-four hours a day?’

  ‘Yes, technically speaking, I suppose I have. But...’

  ‘Well, there you are!’ He grinned wolfishly down at her. ‘I suddenly realised that it would be churlish, to say the least, to turn down the opportunity of having you, my dear Antonia, closely guarding my body through the night.’

  She stared at him in amazement for a moment, before being struck by the utterly ridiculous aspect of the situation.

  ‘You must be joking!’ she laughed. />
  ‘Oh, no—not at all,’ he murmured, his eyes gleaming beneath their heavy lids. ‘In fact, I’m beginning to find the idea of us spending the night together quite an enchanting prospect. Tell me…on which side of the bed do you prefer to sleep?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she snapped.

  Antonia was almost certain that he was just winding her up. But she was determined to put this guy straight about the relationship between a bodyguard and their client. Who did he think she was? Some kind of Mata Hari?

  ‘Your insurance company has hired me to act as your personal bodyguard,’ she told him firmly. ‘And yes, I do have the overall responsibility of making sure that you have close, adequate protection around the clock. But...’

  ‘Wonderful!’ he exclaimed with another wolf-like grin. ‘I don’t wear pyjamas, of course. But, I’m sure a real pro­fessional, such as yourself, has a great line in sexy night­dresses, hmm?’

  ‘Oh—come on! Are you completely incapable of listen­ing to a word I’ve been saying?’ she demanded irritably, refusing to be intimidated by the tall, dark figure now loom­ing over her. ‘Believe me, I have absolutely no intention of spending the night here, in your suite.’

  ‘What? Are you intending to welsh on the deal?’ he que­ried with mock indignation. ‘That is disgraceful! I shall certainly report this dereliction of duty to your superiors.’

  ‘Ha-ha—very funny!’ she ground out sarcastically. ‘However, if you want to check, you’ll find that there is already a guard stationed outside in the corridor,’ she added curtly. ‘He, working together with a colleague, will make absolutely certain that you are not disturbed during the night.’

  ‘And you?

  ‘I will be in the suite adjacent to this one—with the door firmly locked!’ she retorted swiftly. ‘Although why you seem to think that I’d want to share your bed is completely beyond me!’ she added with a shrill, high-pitched laugh. ‘You may think that you’re totally irresistible, but, quite frankly, sweetie, I’m not that desperate!’