A frisson passed through her as his fingers brushed hers, but she pulled her hand away carefully, trying not to let him notice the way that even that slight physical contact had affected her.
‘These pictures are really incredible,’ Marco said. Somehow he had manoeuvred the computer on the coffee table so that it was completely in front of him. ‘The way you’ve caught the surging elemental energy is amazing. I can all but feel the press of the brooding sky and hear the roar of the waves.’
Claudia stared at him, startled by his praise.
‘Do you mind if I scroll back through some of your other photos?’ he asked, already starting to scan back through her files.
The images flipped by, going backwards in time. December in a London park. Bonfire night fireworks in November. Autumn trees in the English countryside. The grape harvest in Piedmont with the Alps in the background.
It might have seemed as if those pictures represented her life over the last few months. But they were just places she’d been—photos she’d taken for work. They did nothing to convey the distress that had been growing inside her after her father had been taken seriously ill.
Suddenly she noticed she was watching images of the family home and vineyard near Turin flash past. They were personal photos and she should stop Marco looking at them. But then, at that moment, she found herself looking at a photo of her father.
He was sitting in the courtyard by the fountain pool and he was smiling and looking happy. Not as robust as in his younger years—but there were no real signs of the illness that was about to strike him. He appeared cheerful and well—not the frail shadow of himself he had been in recent months since he had become so ill.
She stared at the image, wishing herself back in time. Wishing her father still looked happy and fit. But that was never going to happen. He was never going to recover from his illness.
All she could do was watch him fade away. And marry a man she detested. That way her father would not have to lose everything and face a criminal investigation, when it was almost more than he could do to simply hang on to the last fragile threads of his life.
Her vision blurred and her eyes were full of tears. There was nothing she could do to stop them, so she squeezed her eyelids closed and turned away, trying to think about something different.
Marco was looking at images of his old family home. Distinctly uneasy emotions were rumbling within him as he studied the pictures of the house and surrounding vineyards.
He wasn’t seeing the elderly man in the foreground of the photo, although he’d recognised Hector Hazelton at once. He was staring at the fountain courtyard, remembering all the afternoons he’d spent there with his much younger sister, taking time to play with her before going off to meet his friends.
A sudden burst of fury exploded in him and he felt his hands clench involuntarily into fists. That property should still belong to his family. His sister Bianca should have finished growing up there, with a loving mother and father—but instead Claudia had grown up in his rightful home with her father, Hector, and with that witch Francesca Hazelton.
It was twelve years since the De Luca family had been destroyed, but the fury that had consumed Marco then continued to rage through him. His family had been torn apart from within—had suffered the ultimate treachery. Betrayed by one of their own—Marco’s mother.
It had started when Francesca Hazelton insinuated herself into his mother’s life, pretending to be her friend and gaining her trust. Then she had introduced her cousin, Primo Vasile.
It hadn’t taken long for the serpent, Vasile, to use his snakelike charm to seduce Marco’s mother. Afterwards, he had lured her into turning against her own family. She’d taken a vast amount of money from Marco’s father and revealed crucial business secrets that had enabled Vasile to bring the family business down. He’d taken whatever he’d wanted and destroyed everything else.
Marco’s father had been weak, blind to his wife’s treachery. He had not struck out against her when he had the chance, when he’d first discovered her duplicity. Marco would not make the same mistake.
Now he knew that Claudia was a snake in the grass, and he would not fail to treat her in the way that she deserved. She would pay for everything she had done—to him and to his sister.
Suddenly, despite the vengeful thoughts that filled his mind, Marco felt a change come over Claudia. She’d been sitting quietly beside him, making no comment as he looked through her photographs, but he realised that she must have seen his temper flare just now.
With a supreme effort of will, Marco consciously forced his body to relax and removed signs of his anger from his expression. The need for revenge burned stronger than ever within him, but he had to lock it away inside for a short while longer.
He turned and looked at Claudia.
What he saw doused his fury as effectively as a bucket of cold water.
Claudia was sitting with her eyes squeezed shut, huge tears rolling down her ashen face. She looked so sad and vulnerable that Marco reacted instinctively to her distress, momentarily forgetting what she had done to him and Bianca.
He slid off the sofa and kneeled in front of her, the anger that had overtaken him a moment before completely gone.
‘Claudia.’
He saw her shoulders stiffen as his voice penetrated her misery, then she opened her eyes to look at him.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, rubbing the flats of her hands self-consciously across her face and blinking to clear her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to cry. It was just that the photo of my father got to me.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ Marco said, catching her hands with his. ‘I didn’t realise looking at those photos would upset you.’
‘You weren’t to know that my father is ill.’ She smiled at him weakly, but he could tell she had a tenuous grip on her emotions and was only just holding back the flow of tears.
‘Is he very ill?’ Marco asked softly.
Claudia nodded, biting her lower lip as if to stop it quivering. ‘He won’t get better—there’s no hope of that. It’s just a matter of time.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, lifting one hand to cradle her cheek gently. She might be a consummate actress, who had wheedled her way dishonestly into Bianca’s life and then into his. But that did not mean she wasn’t capable of loving her father—and her distress looked genuine.
Hearing Marco’s voice so deep with sympathy and feeling the tenderness of his touch was suddenly too much for Claudia. She burst into fresh tears and buried her face in her hands, wishing she could shut out the misery that overwhelmed her when she thought about her father.
A second later she felt Marco’s arms close around her. He was strong and warm and she found herself clinging to him, sobbing in earnest.
‘I want to go and visit him,’ she wept. ‘But I’m scared of how much worse he’ll be since I saw him only last week. I’m not strong enough to hide how I’m feeling, but I can’t let him see me like this—it wouldn’t be fair to upset him.’
‘It will be all right, dolce mia. I’ll take you to see your father tomorrow,’ Marco murmured against her hair. ‘And you will be strong when you need to be. But it doesn’t matter if he sees you’re upset—it shows how much you care.’
She clung to him, thinking how much like the old Marco he suddenly seemed. Part of her didn’t want to accept comfort from him—not after everything that had happened between them. But another part wanted to believe that the man she had fallen in love with four years ago was still there. That man would have comforted her. That man would have moved heaven and earth if it made her feel better.
‘He doesn’t know he’s dying.’ Claudia heard the strangled tones of her own voice, but now she had started confiding in Marco she couldn’t stop. It was such an overwhelming relief to share the awful burden. ‘My stepmother and his doctors thought it was best to keep it from him. If he gets upset his heart couldn’t take it.’
‘Don’t you think he deserves to know?’ Mar
co sounded shocked. The thought flashed through Claudia’s mind that Marco would never forgive anyone for keeping such news from him. But then she couldn’t imagine Marco ever being frail enough to warrant such considerations.
‘I don’t know,’ she replied, feeling utterly helpless. ‘My stepmother told me it would kill him to find out.’
The idea that Marco might disapprove of her actions suddenly made her feel cold and bleak, undermining the grip she had been slowly regaining on her emotions. She burst into renewed tears and hung her head miserably.
‘I apologise. It wasn’t my place to say that. I don’t know the whole situation,’ Marco said, pulling her close to him once again. ‘We’ll talk to his doctors. Maybe his condition has stabilised.’
‘Thank you.’ Claudia pressed her face against the soft merino wool of his sweater, feeling the reassuring strength and warmth of his body radiating through the garment. ‘That would be wonderful. I couldn’t seem to make the doctors talk to me properly—I think my stepmother told them I didn’t understand Italian well enough.’
‘Where is he?’ Marco asked.
‘In a hospital in Turin,’ she replied.
‘Is your stepmother there with him?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt it,’ Claudia said, resting with her face against his shoulder and her hand flat against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her and at that moment she felt totally safe, cocooned in his embrace. ‘Francesca divides her time between London and Turin, but even when she’s in Italy she doesn’t visit him much, even though she has an apartment in the city. She never liked the countryside—she won’t go to the Piedmont house unless she has to.’
She spoke sadly, wishing that her father could have fallen in love with someone who cared for him more than her stepmother did, when suddenly she felt an almost imperceptible ripple of tension pass through Marco. She pulled away from him slightly, sitting upright so that she could look into his face. The hardness in his eyes startled her, making her heart skip a beat.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, wondering if he disapproved of Francesca’s lack of devotion. Or maybe he was judging her for not dropping everything to remain at her father’s bedside.
‘Nothing.’ He softened his expression at once. But his blood was boiling at the discovery that Francesca Hazelton didn’t even like the country estate she had taken from his family and moved into only days after his father had died. ‘I was just thinking how hard it must have been on you, being tied to London by your work when really you just wanted to be in Italy with your father.’
‘I would have given up my job in an instant,’ she said, ‘but my father wouldn’t let me. I was furious with Francesca for telling him my plan to quit work, but he got so upset at the idea of me putting my life on hold while he was ill that I simply couldn’t go against his wishes. I’ve flown back to Turin almost every weekend.’
‘No wonder you look tired,’ Marco said, lifting his hand and sliding it through her hair to cup the side of her head.
‘I must look a state,’ Claudia gasped, all of a sudden feeling awkward about how she had let herself weep with such undignified abandon. ‘My face must be blotchy and I can’t bear to imagine how red my eyes are.’
‘There are no blotches.’ Marco raised his other hand so that he was holding her head on both sides, his fingers buried deep in her hair. ‘And your eyes are not red—they are simply luminous, glowing with the emotion you feel inside.’
‘You’re just saying that to make me feel better.’ She smiled, knowing he must be lying. But it was a kind lie and his words had lifted her spirits.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said, gazing at her in a way that suddenly made her heart beat faster. He was still holding her head captive in his gentle hands, and he began to pull her slowly towards him.
She gazed at him, thinking he seemed more devastatingly good looking than ever. The firelight was casting a gorgeous glow over his face, his dark eyes were glinting with reflected amber lights and his black hair was gilded with gold.
He was going to kiss her—she knew it with absolute certainty. But then he paused, letting his mouth hover only a fraction away from hers.
At the back of her mind the voice of reason cried out for her to take this chance to back away from him. She knew she shouldn’t get involved with him again. Nothing had changed—he was still the man who had discarded her without a backwards glance. The man who had broken her heart.
She drew in a long shuddering breath and closed her eyes, struggling with her inner turmoil.
Her lips were tingling in expectation of his kiss and her whole body was quivering with the desire that was rising within her, but she knew she shouldn’t give in to it. In a few days time she had to travel to the Caribbean to marry Primo Vasile. That was the hard reality of her life.
Her idyllic time with Marco was a distant memory. It had happened—but it wasn’t real. Not in the way that she remembered it. She had fallen in love with him but although he might have enjoyed spending time with her for a while, it was obvious that he had not felt the same way.
Now he was back in her life and he seemed very different—harder, angrier. She’d never intended to turn to him for comfort over her father. But after the stresses of the last couple of days, looking at the photograph had really got to her. And, although she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to hold back her tears. But just because he had offered her sympathy over her father’s illness did not mean that she had to fall into his arms.
‘I can’t do this.’ Her voice was small, but resolute. She sat up straighter and tried to pull away from him.
‘Yes, you can,’ he said. ‘You want this as much as I do.’
A moment later Marco’s mouth closed over hers.
CHAPTER FIVE
CLAUDIA clung to Marco, giving herself over to his kiss completely. She wanted to lose herself in his arms for a few blissful minutes and forget all the worries that had been weighing so heavily on her. There was no going back now—she didn’t want to go back. She couldn’t let herself think about what she was doing—that might give her rational mind time to protest.
‘I’m going to make you mine again.’
His voice was unbearably sexy—dark and chocolaty, it rippled through her flesh like a physical sensation, making her yearn for him even more.
His hands slipped under her top and moved across her back, his fingers spread wide and his palms hot and smooth against her skin. A deeply expressive sigh escaped her as she felt him caressing her. But she needed more. She needed to feel his naked skin under her fingertips.
It was as if he had read her mind, because he quickly stripped off his sweater.
‘You feel so good,’ she murmured, running her hands up his sides and across his ribs to his chest. She felt his pectoral muscles flex under her fingers and his nipples tighten into small hard points.
Then, Marco took hold of her waist and a split second later they were both standing. The open fire was warm beside her and she couldn’t help running her eyes over his half naked body.
The golden light flickered on his bronzed skin, highlighting the well-defined muscles of his athletic physique and making the fine tangle of black hair on his chest seem more powerfully masculine than ever. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation and she felt a warm wave of desire rolling over her body.
Suddenly the sound of Claudia’s mobile phone ringing jarred through the air.
Marco stiffened, feeling the mood shatter. He turned away and picked up the intrusive item from the coffee table.
He glanced at the caller display and another jolt stabbed through him.
Primo Vasile.
He handed Claudia the phone and walked out of the room.
Marco stood in front of the sink and splashed cold water on to his face. Powerful emotions had surged around his body, taking him completely by surprise. But now he was determined to regain control.
He’d followed Claudia to Wales with the ruthless intention of bedding her out
of revenge.
They’d made love many times in the past—but every time she’d laid in his arms she had been deceiving him. That knowledge was unbearable.
Marco had instinctively known the only way he could expunge the anger that gripped him when he realised how he’d been duped was to turn the tables on her. He would take her to bed on his own terms, for his own satisfaction—and then he would discard her.
He hadn’t been prepared for how badly he still wanted her. His desire for her had burned through his veins like wildfire—consuming every rational thought in his head.
Then, when Claudia’s mobile phone had rung and he’d seen that it was Primo Vasile, an overwhelming surge of possessiveness had stormed through him. He hated Vasile and was determined to thwart his plans in any way he could. But once again he had been shocked by the strength of his feeling towards Claudia.
He gritted his teeth and opened the bathroom door. He would control his emotions—just like he always had. And, when he had bedded Claudia one last time, she’d be out of his system. Then he would cast her aside.
Claudia sat on the sofa, looking into the fire. Her body was buzzing with unfulfilled desire, but she kept telling herself she’d had a lucky escape. She hadn’t answered the phone call—she’d been too lost in the moment with Marco to bear to talk to Primo Vasile—but it had given her a chance to get a hold of herself.
She stood up and walked across the room in agitation. What was wrong with her? Why would she even think of letting Marco make love to her?
He’d broken her heart and there was no reason to assume he would treat her any differently if she got involved with him again. Except, a little voice inside her said, apart from the terrible way he’d finished their relationship, he’d always treated her with incredible respect and tenderness.
But it didn’t matter anyway—because, even if she wanted to be with Marco again, she couldn’t.
Suddenly a heavy band of panic wrapped around her, constricting her throat, making it hard to breathe. She’d had no choice when she’d agreed to marry Primo, but she clung desperately to the fact that it was to be a marriage in name only. Later, after her father could no longer be hurt, she would leave him.
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