by Abby Green
Gianni cut her off with ice-cold precision. ‘It has nothing to do with you being a woman. Some of the best CEOs in the world are women. It has to do with the fact that you have zero experience and seem to think it should be handed to you on a platter.’
The unfairness of Gianni’s attack made something hot prickle behind Keelin’s eyelids. Aghast that he might see how high her emotions were and afraid of what might come out of her mouth, she whirled around and went to stand at a nearby window, arms even tighter across her chest. She felt intimidated and cornered. Misunderstood.
When she was more in control she turned around again and it was as if she was seeing Gianni for the first time. His sheer dark good looks and charisma reached out almost like a taunt.
‘You don’t get it, Delucca. My father believes that because I’m a woman I’m not entitled to inherit my place in the family business. All I’ve ever wanted is a chance to prove to him that I’m capable of being his heir. That’s the only reason I agreed to this farcical arrangement, because he literally gave me no other choice. But I have no intention of going through with it, and you are going to be the one to call it off, or so help me I’ll attract all the attention you don’t want in a convenient wife.’
Danger crackled in the air between them but Keelin fought not to back down.
Gianni sneered faintly. ‘You expect me to walk away from the deal of a lifetime because you’re too scared to stand up to Daddy Dearest?’
Keelin gritted out, ‘He’s not my Daddy Dearest, far from it.’
She realised she was breathing heavily and that her blood was high. Damn this man for pushing her buttons and making her blurt everything out.
Gianni’s narrowed gaze was far too assessing, and then he said silkily, ‘Perhaps you should have this discussion with your father when you see him this evening?’
Keelin felt her blood go cold. ‘My father? What are you talking about?’
Tension stretched between them, as brittle as glass.
‘I’ve arranged an engagement party for this evening in The Harrington’s penthouse suite. It’ll be an intimate exclusive party to introduce you to my friends and business associates.’
Keelin’s heart thumped hard. Once. Her mouth felt dry. ‘Since when?’
Gianni looked all too innocent and yet as sinful as the devil. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, bella, did I not mention it before now?’
‘No,’ she responded tightly as dread skittered over her skin that he was turning the tables on her, and at the thought of this being made public. Official. ‘You didn’t.’
Gianni smiled and it was the smile of a shark. ‘Please forgive me. It must have escaped my attention. Your beauty continues to—how do you say in English?—divert me...’
The compliment rang hollow with insincerity, and she was nothing like his usual women. He spoke English better than she did. But it was effective enough to bring back the memory of the throbbing beat of the music in the club and the feel of Gianni’s tongue sliding into her mouth with carnal intent, the way his body had felt against hers.
She blurted out, ‘Why are you doing this?’
Gianni ignored her question and since when had he moved closer? Now only a couple of feet separated them, his arms down by his sides. Keelin felt hot.
‘Both your parents will be there. Our guests of honour. They fly in this evening. They’re staying at The Harrington. Your mother said something about wanting to see the plans for the ceremony and the reception.’
Keelin’s brain froze. She looked into those fathomless dark eyes that were utterly guileless and yet not. Vulnerability hit her right between the eyes at the thought of her parents suddenly showing a level of support and interest that had never existed until now. And at the thought that Gianni was colluding with them, which of course he was. So why was she feeling a bizarre dart of hurt?
‘How dare you do this without consulting me?’
Colour slashed Gianni’s cheeks and Keelin felt something else vibrate in the air between them, something much more physical.
‘I dare because you were hell-bent on making me a laughing stock and that is not going to happen.’
Frustration mounted inside Keelin to have him so baldly lay out how helpless she was. And then she became blisteringly angry at him for accepting this status quo just because he was greedy for success and more power.
She lashed out. ‘Did you seriously not question why a complete stranger would agree to marry you? Are you so arrogant? So full of your own importance that it didn’t even seem strange?’
Not waiting for an answer, she went on. ‘I mean, who in their right mind would agree to marry a man who has links to the Mafia?’
Gianni went very still, not that he’d been moving around much before, but Keelin had felt his restless energy. And now it was as if he had sensed his prey and every muscle was locked tight in preparation to pounce. His hands were out of his pockets and by his sides, hands curled to fists.
Shivers raced over Keelin’s skin. She’d pushed a button. A big one. And it didn’t make her feel a sense of triumph.
He was cold. ‘I do not have links to the Mafia.’
Keelin pushed down a sense of having stepped over a huge mark. ‘But your father—’
He cut her off brutally. ‘My father is dead, and you will not mention this again. Damn you.’
Keelin had only the merest sliver of warning before Gianni’s arms reached out to grab her upper arms and he hauled her into his chest, his mouth covering hers with such precision that she wondered if somehow he’d read her mind and known that she’d been thinking about that kiss endlessly since last night.
And just as she’d feared, being kissed by him again was setting off a chain reaction of tumbling all of her defences like dominoes, making her pliant, making between her legs throb and ache. Her hands were caught between them and from somewhere that hadn’t yet been enslaved by his touch she curled her hands to fists and pushed, wrenching her head back.
She opened her eyes and saw nothing but black. She pushed herself free, out of his hands, and stepped back shakily. ‘I don’t want this, I don’t want you.’
Gianni’s mouth twisted. ‘You might not want this situation but you want me, as much as I want you.’
And then before she could respond, he said, ‘Are you a chess player, Keelin?’
It was clearly a rhetorical question when he continued, ‘I’m not willing to call this wedding and merger off, not in a million years. And you can’t walk away because you’ll be left out in the cold—so it would appear that we have a stalemate.’
The air seemed to throb and shimmer between them with heat and tension, and Gianni stared at her for such a long moment that Keelin almost begged him to stop, but then he lifted his hand and looked at the watch on his wrist. He looked at her again, coolness in his eyes now. ‘A stylist and hair and make-up team are on their way here to get you ready for the party. They told me it would take that long to get rid of the day-glo look. I’ll be back later to pick you up.’
Clearly nothing she’d said had made one dent in his bid to secure this deal with her father. He was steamrollering ahead and taking her with him.
She put her hands on her hips, aware of the little betraying tremor. ‘Now wait just a minute, if you think that I’m going to—’
The words died in her throat when Gianni stalked closer, a look of dangerous intent on his face. Perversely it didn’t scare Keelin that he might kiss her again; it excited her. But he didn’t.
‘This marriage is happening, Keelin. Now more than ever. And if you don’t start washing off that persona you’ve been playing with for the past forty-eight hours, then I’ll be more than happy to take you to the shower to help you. So what’s it to be?’
CHAPTER FOUR
THAT EVENING GIANNI was still struggling to co
ntrol his temper. When Keelin had mentioned his father and Mafia he’d seen red. For some reason the fact that she’d levelled that accusation at him had stung more than most. Enough to want to silence her by putting his mouth over hers and losing himself in the inferno of need that had spiralled up through his body, almost taking his head off.
Cristo. No woman had ever made him so hot, or hot-headed, in his life. Up until now he’d chosen women he desired but none of them had made him feel out of control enough to want to devour them, or had reduced him almost to some kind of animalistic state. And that made him very nervous. He’d considered his father an animal whenever he’d come home drunk and taken out his aggression on his wife. Or when he’d disappeared for days on end only to reappear with money and blood-spattered clothes.
His father’s poisonous legacy was something Gianni desperately wanted to dissociate himself from. It symbolised everything that was dark and violent and base. And that was not him. Yet, he took one look at Keelin and felt nothing but feral desire. Disconcerting as it was, he was sure that once he’d slaked his desire, her hold on him would decrease.
He’d changed in the dressing room attached to his office and the classic tuxedo he wore now made him feel constricted when it never had before. He could remember his first occasion wearing a tuxedo to a glittery event and how for the first time in his life he’d received looks of admiration, respect.
As constricting as the suit might feel right now, this was what separated him from his father’s legacy—this ability to appreciate the fine things in life and to know that the way forward was through promoting integrity and honesty. Building a business to be proud of. The business his grandfather had set up, before his own son had taken it and crushed it to the ground.
Earlier, when Gianni’s assistant had shown stylists with clothes rails and an assortment of other suitably qualified people up to his apartment, he’d found himself almost relishing the thought of Keelin’s expression when she knew she had no choice but to comply.
But then his conscience smarted when he thought of what she’d revealed about her reasons for wanting out of this marriage. He’d scoffed at her intentions to be a part of her family’s business, yet didn’t she have that right? After all, at least he’d had the shell of his grandfather’s business to build an empire upon and after a lot of blood and sweat and ingenuity he was finally here, or would be, once he merged with O’Connor.
He had to admit that Keelin’s evident determination to succeed no matter what inspired a grudging sense of kinship within him. But he couldn’t let the niggle of his conscience sway him. He needed this deal. Now more than ever.
His chief executive advisor had just informed him that the very rumour that Delucca Emporium was merging with O’Connor Foods had caused a soar in stocks. The news wouldn’t be officially announced until the day after the wedding took place—as per O’Connor’s request, even though they’d already signed contracts.
So he couldn’t afford to let this momentum drop now. He needed every ounce of positive press to convince people he could be trusted, and as much as he might sympathise with Keelin’s bid for independence, she was not going to stand in his way. He’d worked too hard for this chance.
* * *
Keelin hated that she felt bizarrely excited. She should be steamingly angry. The threat of Gianni washing the spray tan off her body himself had been enough to galvanise her into the bathroom earlier that day, locking herself inside and scowling when she heard his mocking, ‘Later, cara,’ through the door.
A veritable army had then appeared in the apartment when she’d emerged from the shower with skin pink from scrubbing and had proceeded to take her in hand, undoing all of the hard work she’d put in to appear as trashy as possible.
And now she hated to admit that she didn’t look a million miles off what she’d choose to look like, if she didn’t have a war of personal independence on her hands.
She was wearing a strapless dark green dress that made her eyes stand out. Fitted around her breasts, it fell in soft swirls of silk and chiffon from below her bust to the floor where she wore delicate high-heeled sandals.
She was back to her habitual paleness, and felt a little naked now without the copious amounts of make-up and tan. Her hair had been teased and coiffed out of its natural wildness and lay over one shoulder in glossy soft waves, held back on the other side by a long diamond comb.
Make-up was subtle and enhanced her features. Her cheekbones stood out, and her mouth looked even bigger than usual. She wanted to scowl at the reflection in the bathroom mirror as she inspected herself, but in truth she felt a funny catch in her throat at the thought of Gianni seeing her like this, as if she was meeting him for the first time all over again.
‘Keelin?’
Speak of the devil. Her heart thumped hard and she took a deep breath, cursing the fact that she’d allowed herself to get distracted enough not to analyse what had been said earlier and figure out what her next step would be.
She heard Gianni come closer. ‘Keelin, so help me, if you’re not here and ready—’
He appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom en suite and stopped talking, those dark eyes raking her from head to toe. Heat climbed up over Keelin’s chest to her neck and face.
She registered how gorgeous he was in his tuxedo, clean jaw, hair short. Suddenly there was no air; her skin felt tight and hot. Terrified he might see her reaction she moved forward and pushed past him. ‘I am here.’
When she was on the other side of him the hardness of his body registered on her brain with a searing flash of heat. She stalked out into the main living area, desperate to put some space between them, sucking in a deep breath. When she turned around again, Gianni had followed her and was leaning against the door frame, hands in pockets, eyes hooded and unreadable.
Keelin’s hands clutched the bag that went with the dress. She wanted to squirm; no man had ever looked at her so intently.
‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled softly. ‘I knew there was a gem hiding underneath all that artifice.’
Keelin was about to say something waspish but Gianni added, ‘But I had no idea how beautiful that gem would be.’
For a moment she felt stunned. Even though he’d kissed her, somehow this felt more intimate, as if he was stroking his tongue along hers all over again, that hard mouth demanding she give up her softness to him. Demanding she expose all her weaknesses and vulnerabilities.
At a loss as to how to respond, and feeling gauche when she recalled how she’d noticed he hadn’t complimented her the previous evening, Keelin just said, ‘Save your breath for the woman who’ll become your fiancée for real some day. She’ll be far more appreciative.’
Gianni stood away from the door and came towards her. Keelin’s feet were glued to the floor. He stopped far too close and answered, ‘Cara, you’re the only fiancée I’m ever going to have, so you might as well give in to the inevitable—unless you’re willing to walk out that door right now, we will be getting married in two weeks.’
The fact that Keelin couldn’t seem to find the urge to walk away from Gianni now that she had the opportunity was not as annoying as the suspicion that it had less to do with her father’s ultimatum and intransigence and more to do with the fact that something enigmatic in his black gaze held her to the spot.
An hour later Keelin’s feet burned in her high heels. She was in a sleek and sophisticated private suite at the Harrington Hotel surrounded by beautiful and equally sleek people with white besuited waiters moving through the crowd carrying trays of sparkling champagne, and yet all she could see were the women openly lusting after Gianni, and sending her less than friendly glances. She felt like saying to them, Take him! while alternately battling a very curious urge to gouge their eyes out.
He bent close and said by her ear in his deep voice, ‘Your parents are here.’ Instantl
y she tensed all over, an inevitable reaction, her hand tightening on her glass of champagne. The drink she’d not even touched. No point in pretending she liked it any more.
She barely noticed Gianni sending her an assessing sidelong glance as her mother came forward with arms outstretched to envelop Keelin in a stiff hug and a noxious wave of perfume. Keelin couldn’t help tensing even more. She’d learnt long ago that these rare displays of affection were for appearances only, never to be repeated in private.
Her father gave her a kiss on the cheek. Equally awkward. Keelin felt old emotions rise—a mix of anger, disappointment and frustration, and swallowed it down with effort.
Her mother was oblivious, beaming at Gianni and gushing, ‘So pleased to meet you, Mr Delucca. Liam’s told me all about you. You’ll take care of our beloved Keelin, now won’t you?’
He was oozing charm as they shook hands. ‘Call me Gianni, please.’
Beloved Keelin. It had been the wrong moment to take a reflexive sip of her drink; it promptly went down the wrong way and Keelin had a coughing fit, earning a familiar look of irritation from her mother and a hand on her bare upper back from Gianni which was far more disturbing. Keelin wasn’t someone who felt comfortable around tactile people but whenever Gianni touched her she felt the disturbing urge to close her eyes and purr gently.
‘Okay, cara?’
His careless endearment sent shivers through her. She nodded and blinked quickly and croaked, ‘Fine.’
His fingers spread out now, just above the bodice of the dress, and his touch became more caressing. The kind of touch anyone might expect of a man to his fiancée.
But there was something else in it too; as she stood there by Gianni’s side and faced her parents she had the bizarre sense for the first time in her life of not standing alone against them. Which was crazy because Gianni only wanted this marriage as a business deal; he wasn’t genuinely interested in the kind of support that should come with a real marriage.
That galvanised her to move subtly away from his touch and she hated how she felt bereft when his hand dropped. She sent him a dark look for having this effect on her but he merely raised a brow in return. Completely bemused.
