by Diana Fraser
“Not now. I can’t work with anyone now.”
“You should have thought of that before you welcomed this man’s, Guy’s, capital into your business.”
She leapt up. “I had no money; I left without a cent. I needed that money to start up again.”
He shrugged. “That was your choice.”
She gritted her teeth. “I had no choice.”
“Yes, of course. Living with me must have been impossible. But, strange, you did not seem to object too strenuously when I showered you with presents, when I gave you everything you could want in your professional life and when, at night, I explored your body to ensure you received maximum satisfaction. Yes, there was obviously no contest. You had to get away.”
“Giovanni. I can’t explain. It’s too hard.”
“You could have tried, Rose.”
His quiet tones cut through her more effectively than any anger.
She jumped up and indicated the front door that still lay open.
“I can’t take any more of this. Giovanni. I didn’t invite you here. I don’t want you here.”
He didn’t move.
“But I am here. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Leave now.”
“No. It’s not an explanation I’m here for. Your feeble explanations, your excuses, are of no interest to me any more. What I want is your services for which I’ve paid. And I intend to receive them—in full.”
“You may have bought my company but you haven’t bought me.”
He withdrew a slim sheath of papers from his pocket and dropped them on the coffee table between them.
“Check the small print. Your business partner has signed away your rights. If you don’t work for me for at least six months then you will be in breach of contract. Your company will be dissolved into nothing and you will be bankrupt.”
She closed her eyes briefly. She knew it but still couldn’t face it. “I don’t believe you.”
“See for yourself.”
She didn’t need to. She knew how ruthless her business partner could be. He’d obviously sold her down the river. And, equally, she knew how single-minded Giovanni could be when he wanted something.
“Your company doesn’t need my security system. It could develop its own.”
“Not like yours. You’ve created the best. And I’m only interested in the best.”
“What do I have to do?
“I have a plane ready to take us to Milan. You will work for me there.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Whatever you require will be made available to you.”
“But what about Alberto?”
“What about Alberto?”
She could hear the chill descend into his voice.
“I can’t work with your family around, and your brother in particular.”
“I think you are lying, cara mia. I think you want to see my little brother. However, unfortunately he is otherwise engaged at the moment.”
Rose exhaled a ragged sigh of relief. A vision of what life could be like flashed into her mind. With Alberto gone, anything was possible—until his return of course. One look at Giovanni and she could see that he’d taken her silence as confirmation that she had been hoping to see Alberto. Let him believe what he liked.
“OK. I will come with you Giovanni.”
“I never doubted it.”
“Not just because of the blackmail. Sure, I have commitments that I need to meet, but I’d meet them somehow.”
“Your scholarships. Very noble, Rose. If you spent more time looking after the details of your own affairs instead of concerning yourself with girls’ education, you might have succeeded in retaining your anonymity.”
“The scholarships were important to me. But bankruptcy doesn’t worry me. I would make money somehow and I would pay back whatever I owed. I don’t need much to survive.”
“So it would seem.” He looked around the room with disdain. “Your eclectic mix of styles is born of necessity I have no doubt. So if it is not money, if it is not Alberto, what is it that makes you agree? Not that you have any other choice.”
Rose could sense unease in his voice.
“Because for the first time in two years, I’m finally free of the fear that you’ll find me. You’re here now and I don’t have to face that fear every minute of every day. I don’t have to hide any more.”
“You really hate me so much.” His words were more of a statement than a question.
She wanted to scream at him that she loved him. She wanted to hold him and heal the hurt she could feel beneath the chill veneer. But how could she tell him she loved him, when she could never live with him again? She couldn’t tell him the secret that could see him follow in his father’s footsteps. It could ruin his life.
“I really hated what you and your family did to me.”
“And what was that? Make you into a wealthy woman?” He paused briefly. “But, you are correct. You can hide from me no longer because I will make sure we will be together, just as your body desires. You have me now. And it is me that you want whether you know it or not.”
“You are wrong Giovanni. I need no man. And as soon as those six months are up I’ll return here, to my home, to New Zealand. Free, both of my fears and of you.”
He stepped close enough so that she heard his words only as a whisper. “You will not last one week before you are begging me to be in your bed.”
“Your arrogance does credit to your race. But, rest assured, I won’t be repeating my mistake of following my instincts as I did two years ago: an impressionable girl, swept away by you and anxious to please her new family. I was born with nothing and I was never allowed to forget it. By your own admission I have changed. I won’t be used again.”
“Whatever passed between you and my family is history and has nothing to do with me. I simply want your business skills. If, as I imagine, you can’t keep out of my bed, well, you are my wife and I will take pleasure in giving you what you desire. But, for now, I want you out of here within the hour. My plane will leave this afternoon for Italy and you will be on it.”
CHAPTER TWO
The plane banked steeply out of Wellington airport and Giovanni stabbed his index finger on the delete key of his computer, determined not to succumb to temptation and look across at his wife.
“Doing your own emails now?”
He raised his eyes and looked at her over his laptop. She had her “butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth” look. But it would. Her mouth could raise the coolest temperature. And his temperature was never cool, despite appearances.
“Obviously.”
He concentrated once more on the screen of emails highlighted in bold that awaited his attention. He normally traveled with assistants who took care of the irritating details of his business.
“I’m surprised your staff let you have a computer.”
“My staff do as I say.”
“They do what’s best for you and, since you threw your laptop out the window, that’s meant keeping computers away from you.”
Giovanni frowned. This was the first time in years that he’d needed a laptop. No wonder he’d had a job finding one.
“And where are your assistants anyway? I thought they never left your side.”
“There are some jobs one has to do personally.”
“Like blackmailing your wife.”
He felt the thump of adrenalin hit his veins. Control, he thought.
“I prefer to think of it as persuading my wife to return to her home.”
“My home is in New Zealand.”
“Not for the next six months it isn’t. And, after that, we’ll see…”
He left the words hanging in the air and shrugged before returning his attention to the computer.
“I return home, that’s what.”
She crossed her legs and looked out the window. The subject was obviously not up for discussion.
He gave up trying to understand wh
at he was reading. Instead he stabbed his finger on the delete key once more. She was wrong. She had to be. He would keep her because she wouldn’t want to leave. He’d make sure of it.
Feeling the heat of her gaze upon him, he struck the delete key repeatedly. How could such cool blue eyes have this effect on him? It tested the control he was determined to maintain. He had to. Lack of it had cost him dearly.
“Umm.”
The sound reminded him of her soft moan of contentment. But it wasn’t. He sighed.
“What?”
“Interesting.”
He really wasn’t in the mood for such games. He was determined not to respond and continued pressing random keys in an attempt to maintain the fiction that he knew what he was doing.
The silence grew and he pressed one key too many and the program suddenly quit. He looked up, annoyed.
“And what is ‘interesting’ supposed to mean?”
One angry glance from him and people usually stopped irritating him. But his manner appeared to have no effect whatsoever on Rose, who remained composed.
“Just that you don’t actually seem to be reading anything before you delete the messages. Hope they’re not important.”
He stopped himself from hitting the delete key once more, despite the fact the program was no longer open. God only knew what would happen if he struck the key again.
“And why would that concern you? Worried that I’m missing out on lucrative deals?” He pushed the damn computer away from him, sat back and allowed himself to gaze full and long on his wife.
Her fine features were even finer, if that were possible, and her pale skin was golden from the hot New Zealand sun. On one hand she looked stronger—tanned and lithe—and yet on the other she seemed to possess a strange quality of separateness. It was as if she’d removed herself from the world. It was in her eyes—the cool blue of a winter’s sea—no longer inviting, but always challenging, repulsing now.
She was right. She had changed. The uncertain girl who would do anything to fit in, to follow her dreams of belonging, had been replaced by a woman who kept the world at arm’s length.
What had made her change?
Who had made her change?
He swept the complex feelings of anger, frustration and sadness aside. He’d discover her secrets. He just needed some time. And he’d just bought that.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Your business is your own. No concern of mine.”
Time he rattled her poise a little.
“Or perhaps concerned that I’d snub a lover?”
Much to his irritation she smiled sweetly at him, the sort of guileless smile, which had got him into trouble with her in the first place.
“I’m not concerned about money, lovers or anything else. Just intrigued by your change of habits.”
“I am not a creature of habit. You memory is faulty on that point.”
“Come on, I know how much you hate computers. Your style was always short, sharp commands—either by phone or in person. Two years couldn’t have changed you that much. Unless…”
He raised his eyebrows. Why was she goading him?
“Unless what? You have some stunning revelation about me?”
“Only that my presence appears to be irritating the hell out of you and you’re taking it out on a defenseless computer. I can see why you needed me in the first place with IT skills like that.”
He clicked the laptop closed. “And I need you now, angelo mia.” It was his turn to unnerve her. She had to learn that she was here at his insistence and on his terms. “You always were very perceptive, very sensitive to my needs.” He didn’t even need to move towards her to see the flush of heat pulse through her body. “I can see you haven’t changed.”
She turned away quickly, flicked her hair over her shoulder in a dismissive gesture and assumed an intense interest with the view outside the window.
He leaned towards her, taking the opportunity to breathe in her smell—fresh and sensual at the same time—he could never get enough of it. Then he followed her gaze as the glittering lights of Wellington city reduced to pinpricks before becoming extinguished by the darkness of the surrounding hills.
“You came as far as you could to get away from me.”
Her eyes closed briefly as if struck by something in his tone rather than his words. He’d tried to keep it neutral—but he wasn’t overly familiar with anything neutral.
“I needed distance. I had to get away.”
“To a small country where you led a small life.”
She looked at him sharply.
“You don’t have to live in Europe and spend a lot of money to live a full life.”
“No. But it’s usual to leave the house occasionally. You lived like a hermit.”
No-one else would have noticed but me, he thought: the flash of pain in her eyes, the sharp contraction in her brows and around her mouth. The hurt. It was over in a moment, covered by an affected indifference. He knew the indifference was a mask because everything else about her told him that she was anything but indifferent.
He’d succeeded in wiping the humor from her eyes and he suddenly wished he hadn’t.
“I suppose there’s little you don’t know about my life.” Her voice was flat.
“There’s nothing I don’t know about your life.” He’d got through to her at last. He might as well continue to see how much she could take. He relaxed back into his seat. “You seldom traveled, carried out all your business online and mixed only rarely with the local community. I know everything: from who you saw, to the contents of your shopping trolley.”
Rose swallowed her anger. “Must have been fascinating reading.”
“Not just reading. Watching too.”
“You had someone film me? That’s not only an invasion of my privacy, that’s plain creepy.”
“Not in this day and age. Everyone is watched by someone—the government, friends, family.”
“Acting a little love-sick aren’t we?”
“Acting like someone who is looking after their investment.”
“An investment?”
Her voice was icy; the words enunciated too clearly.
“An investment?” Rose repeated, except louder this time. Her anger was betrayed by the sharp sibilant edge she gave the word. But she was past caring—this was the last straw.
“What else would you call someone in whom one has poured money, hoping for a return. It’s simple economics, Rose.”
The old feelings of inadequacy came flooding back. But with it now was a strength gained through her years on her own.
“You condescending bastard. I am not an item for your balance sheet. I’m damn good at creative IT work.”
“If perhaps, a little lacking in admin expertise.”
The accuracy of his criticism made her see red.
“Who was it who turned your security business around? ME! But who was it who nearly knocked a million US off your balance sheet when seducing the girlfriend of your business partner?”
“Not you.”
“Glad you got that one right.” Rose sat back in her seat.
“Anyway, you make it sound as if it were a bad thing. The girl in question was breaking up with my partner.”
“Shame she hadn’t told your partner that.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re so concerned, it was before your time.”
“I’m not concerned.” She said between gritted teeth. “I’m just making a point.”
“Which was?”
“God knows.” She slumped back in her chair. “Giovanni. Sometimes you drive me crazy.”
“At last we’ve found something we have in common.”
She sighed heavily. “I’m tired. I want to rest now.”
“Rest. Sleep if you like. I have business to attend to.”
As soon as her eyes were closed an image of Alberto’s smoothly handsome features came to mind. Giovanni’s little “investment”, he’d called her.
Thank God Alberto wouldn’t be in Milan. Just the thought of him made her skin crawl. At first he’d tried to seduce her but when that had failed he’d grown angry and had tried to find creative ways to humiliate her. With unerring skill he’d identified her weak points and suggested that the only reason Giovanni had married her was to protect the family’s commercial interests: a useful investment for the family. Why else would Giovanni have married a nobody, far less beautiful than any of the women with whom he’d been linked?
Giovanni couldn’t know of the private taunts his brother had subjected her to. Taunts that ultimately turned poisonous with abuse. But Giovanni had just used the same word.
An investment, a possession. A possession that had slipped from his grasp. Whatever Giovanni’s feelings for her—if he had any—he would be angry that she’d left. One didn’t just leave Giovanni Visconti. If one did, one lived to regret it. Giovanni had a way of making you pay.
And how exactly, she wondered, was he going to make her pay?
She opened her eyes once more finding no relief in her thoughts. Giovanni’s attention had returned to the computer. Why he bothered was beyond her. He didn’t need to. He had enough staff to run a small country.
She turned to the blackness of the Tasman Sea—New Zealand now long gone—as they headed towards Australia. From there they’d stop briefly in Singapore and then on to Italy.
Twenty-four hours alone with Giovanni.
She guessed that it wouldn’t take long to find out what exactly he had in mind.
It wasn’t until the steward had laid out selection of Italian antipasto, together with some fresh New Zealand delicacies that Giovanni joined her at the table once more.
“A glass of champagne, Signora Visconti?” The steward’s smile was warm, despite his formality.
Rose started at her old name and then smiled acceptance. But it wasn’t until the door closed behind the steward that Giovanni broke the silence.
He held up his glass. “Salute.”
“Are we celebrating something?”
“Our renewed partnership, cara.”
“A forced partnership.”
“Come, you will benefit. If only to, what was it you said, be ‘free of the fear’ that I will find you. The fact that I will set you up financially for the future is surely not insignificant.”
