The Amalfitano's Bold Abduction (The Italian Billionaires Collection)

by Jennifer Blake

  “He is not young as Rico was the child of a second wife. He clings to the old ways and hardly knows the century has changed. Or at least he prefers not to admit it.”

  “But to use such tactics—it’s like something out of a movie.”

  Andrea lifted a shoulder. “They don’t make movies from nothing.”

  “And this is the end of it? I mean, will nothing be done about all that happened?”

  “Where is the proof?” Andrea gave a slow shake of his head. “It was as Rico said, only a father trying to help his son, a question of love carried a little too far.”

  “A little?”

  His smile was wry. “Well, more than a little. But Rico is family, you know. How am I to accuse his papa or testify against him?”

  “That’s a very forgiving attitude.” It was also one that seemed very Italian to her, as did his loyalty to family. She could appreciate it now where she might not have a few days ago.

  “It’s over and no real harm has been done. I prefer to let it rest, unless—”

  “Unless?” she asked as he hesitated.

  “You wish, perhaps, to press charges?”

  Become involved in a court case in Italy? She would have to return for it, no doubt. And though there was a certain appeal in the thought, she knew it would be best not to use it as an excuse. “I don’t think so, no.”

  “Rico will reimburse you for everything that was lost, including any charges not covered by insurance on the rental car. I will see to it.”

  She didn’t doubt him, especially with the set, determined look on his face as he gazed out to sea. “You’ve already replaced my clothes. It’s you he should reimburse for those.”

  “That was nothing.”

  The wind stirred the waves of his hair, lifted the collar of his linen shirt against his jaw that he had donned again for lunch. He narrowed his eyes against it, so his lashes meshed at the corners. She wanted always to remember him like this, a part of the sun, sand and sea, sun-bronzed and incredibly male in contrast to the soft white linen he wore, but concerned for her, ready to make everything right for her.

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what must come. She wished it could be avoided, but knew that was impossible. This had been only an interlude, passionate and life-changing in its way, but never meant to last. Bella’s arrival, and Rico’s, spelled the end.

  It would be best to face that and get it over and done. Waiting for him to say the words was unfair, and would only hurt more in the end.

  “So this is it,” she said quietly.

  He turned to her as if his thoughts had been far away. “What?”

  “The danger is over. No one is after Guaio any longer. Or me, if it comes to that. There’s no reason for me to stay here.”

  “No reason,” he repeated blankly.

  She looked away from the darkness in his eyes. “It’s time I rejoined my friends in Positano. I could take the ferry back to the mainland, except I have no way to pay the fare.”

  “No.”

  “No?” she repeated with a species of hope caught in her chest.

  “There is no need to rush away. You must stay here while I make these financial arrangements for you.”

  He only meant to be helpful, as always. She should have known. “You don’t have to bother. I can call my parents, and they’ll take care of it. I only need a small loan until—”

  “Per Dio. If you must go, I will take you.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can make my own way.”

  He made a brief, chopping gesture. “I’m sure you can, but I will not allow it. I brought you here and I will take you back.”

  Her throat ached, and there was a hard lump in her chest where her heart should have been. To say anything more was almost impossible, but she managed a single word.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine, then. We will take the helicopter. It will be faster.”

  Faster was good. That way, the parting would not be so long and drawn out. “I—will be ready whenever you are.”

  She turned away. Half blinded by wind, tears and the painful finality of it all, she started toward the stairs that led back to the villa.

  “Dana?”

  She stopped but didn’t turn back. Explaining why she was crying was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “You need not go.”

  His voice, so low and vibrant, was nearly her undoing. She gave a small shake of her head. “I think I do. My friends will be expecting me, and—and the sooner I am with them, the better it will be.”

  “But there are things between us. We must talk.”

  She brushed aside strands of hair blown across her face by the wind, felt a warm tear slide down her cheek as she remembered Andrea doing the same thing for her after they made love. “What is there to say? Let’s just—just leave it.”

  “There is this, that I used no protection last night. I would not have you face any consequences from this great stupidity of mine with no one beside you.”

  “So you would want to be told if there is to be a baby?” He was concerned for a child of his blood, but not necessarily for its mother.

  “Of course, cara. I should have had more care for this possibility.”

  “You should, but you weren’t alone, you know.”

  “You had nothing when you came here, so could do nothing. I did, and should have used it.”

  She could hardly argue with that. “I will let you know if anything happens, but I doubt it will. The timing is wrong.”

  “You would not—”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” She would never lie to him about such a thing, nor would she even think of destroying his child. It was not only a moral issue but the fact that she couldn’t, not when she so longed for that warm and loving reminder.

  “Bene. I will give you my phone numbers for here, the mainland and my cell, all of them.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She couldn’t take any more, had no use for a postmortem, no wish to hear any more apologies or expressions of remorse.

  She had no regrets. None. In spite of everything.

  “I will see you in a few minutes, then,” she said, her voice little more than a croak. Moving quickly, almost running, she mounted the steps to the terrace, leaving him there on the beach.

  At the top, she paused, however; she couldn’t help herself. She had to look back to see if she could make out anything of what he might be feeling.

  He wasn’t watching her go, not at all. He had taken out his cell phone and was flicking the screen, thumbing numbers.

  She faced forward again and walked on, though she could not see where she was going.

  ~ ~ ~

  What to take? Nothing.

  What to leave? Everything.

  That was how Dana felt. The clothing Andrea had bought for her was too expensive for who and what she was. She would feel odd wearing it around Caryn and Suzanne.

  More than that, it was a reminder she didn’t need, not while the ache of leaving was so sharp. If her belongings had not been recovered from the rental car, she would borrow from her friends until she could have money sent from home to buy cheaper clothes.

  It would be all right. It would have to be all right.

  There was little to be packed then. She gathered up her toothbrush and other personal articles out of the bathroom and wrapped them in her nightgown, since she might need that before she could go shopping. Stripping off the linen dress, she put on the jeans, T-shirt and sneakers she’d been wearing when she arrived.

  As she started to the close the armadio, she noticed the tiny turquoise bikini Andrea had ordered for her. She’d never worn it for him. If she had remained another day or two, she would have, had planned on it. She’d so wanted to see the look on his face when she whipped off the sarong that was its matching cover-up.

  No, she wouldn’t think of that. The time might come one day when she could recall the green depths in his eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners when he smi
led or lighted up with laughter, without this throbbing anguish in her heart. It wasn’t possible now. Not now.

  The days had been so few. It seemed more, maybe because so much had been crowded into them. She and Andrea had passed through moments of anger and remorse, danger and passion, yes, but also many that were light-hearted. They had weathered them all and come out safe on the other side.

  Well, almost safe, if she didn’t count losing her heart. She hadn’t meant to fall in love, had never really considered it possible when she boarded the plane for Italy. Oh, she had joked with Caryn and Suzanne about an Italian fling, but she’d thought she was too practical, too armored in the suspicion instilled by her job to actually venture into such a thing. She’d certainly never thought she’d find a man who could undo her with a smile or single soft word.

  She would get over Andrea. She would. One day. But she didn’t think she’d ever be the same. Some grim, hard element had gone from her life. She’d taken on a degree of the softness of this Italian island in the Mediterranean, the feeling that life was made to be lived, to be enjoyed instead of merely endured as a duty.

  All her life, she had been taught black was black and white was white, and the messy, angst-ridden deeds and emotions of human beings that lay in between made no difference. She couldn’t see it that way any longer. It was possible she had lost her occupation then, too, because she didn’t know if she could go back and police her friends and neighbors as she had before. That job required a grim ability to decide right and wrong for other people that no longer existed for her.

  What else she might do, she wasn’t sure, but she felt the strong need of a change. She might look into moving to the Florida gulf coast, to finally owning that house beside the sea. She had come to love the constant presence of endless water beyond her window, its sights and sounds and smells. More than that, it would give her some small sense of connection to know that the water that washed up outside her door might have once, for a brief moment, touched the shore where Andrea walked.

  Enough.

  She wouldn’t be maudlin and self-pitying. Pride required that she hide her hurt, put on a carefree smile. Andrea no more intended what had happened between them than she had. He’d made no promises, held out no hope beyond the few days of this island holiday. He didn’t deserve to be made the villain for not offering more.

  It was his fault for bringing her here in the first place, however; she couldn’t forget that. Still, she had forgiven it. That was only fair, as she wouldn’t have missed that unexpected chopper ride for anything in the world.

  Picking up her bundle, she gave one last look around the room. She wanted to remember its hand-woven rug, ancient armadio and high bed covered with white and green linens. And dear Guaio, too, who had escaped from his mistress and sneaked in unnoticed, so now lay on the bed watching her with an unblinking stare.

  It was then that Dana heard the whining roar of the helicopter engine. Andrea was already preparing for takeoff; she must have been longer than she thought. She would need to hurry if she didn’t want to keep him waiting.

  She was at the door with her hand on knob when the noise of the chopper altered pitch. Seconds later it changed again, as if the helicopter was lifting off.

  That couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  Swinging around, Dana ran toward the balcony door that was still locked and shuttered from the sirocco. She flung back the curtains, struggled with the lock and then with the bar on the shutters. Slamming both open finally, she stepped outside.

  The helicopter was hovering above the helipad, rising higher every second. The wind of its whirling rotors blew around her where she stood. As she watched, unbelieving, it reached the apex for flight and then surged forward. It banked, turning in a wide, steady arc before heading for the mainland.

  Andrea was piloting it, for she saw him clearly. He noticed her on the balcony as well, for he stared down far longer than he should.

  He wasn’t alone. Bella was with him, and a shadowed form on the other side of her appeared to be Rico.

  They had left her.

  Yes, and they’d left Guaio, too, she realized as the cat thumped to the floor behind her and padded out onto the balcony to wind around her ankles. They had been deserted.

  She picked up the cat, holding it to her for the comfort of its warm, furry body against the ache in her chest. Standing quite still, she watched until the chopper was no more than a black dot in the sky.

  Andrea had left her on the island after saying he would take her to Positano.

  He had left her, and she had no idea when or if he meant to return.

  Chapter 10

  Andrea scowled through the windscreen as he sent the helicopter hurtling toward Naples. He couldn’t wait to drop off his sister and her husband so he could get on with his main objective.

  The two of them had not been hard to persuade to leave with him. It seemed they had come to an understanding while he and Dana had talked on the beach. Even now, they were so wrapped up in each other back there on the rear seats that they might have forgotten where they were or what they were doing.

  That was just as well. Andrea was in no mood to talk. Not that he was any more interested in watching them exchange the long, hot kisses that were uncomfortable reminders of other things. He avoided those, as much as possible, even glancing toward the back.

  He thought of Dana, watching him as he took off without her. She had looked so alone, seemed so disbelieving with her face turned up to the sky. She would learn his purpose as soon as he could manage it. Whether she would forgive him was something else again.

  He hated it had to be this way. Still, he could see no other course. To take her to the mainland and leave her, just like that, was intolerable. He wouldn’t do it.

  She’d thought him arrogant and high-handed before, when he had spirited her away to his island home. She didn’t know the half of it.

  At least she had Guaio for company. Bella seemed to have forgotten her beloved pet in the rush to leave. Andrea had not reminded her. The cat was better on the island where he could no longer be a bone of contention between her and Rico.

  Guaio might be some small consolation for Dana until he returned, but not enough, never enough. He needed to get back to the island as soon as possible.

  Naples appeared on the horizon, a gray smudge against a landscape of sea blue and earthen brown. He set the chopper down at the Naples heliport, pausing only long enough to accept Rico’s apologies one last time and salute his sister on both cheeks in a fond arrivederci. Well before the pair of lovebirds reached the limousine that had been ordered, he was back in his cockpit. As soon as he had clearance, he took off again.

  In Positano he took advantage of the helipad owned by a friend who ran a luxury helicopter service between Naples and the town. Moments later, he was behind the wheel of a borrowed car, dodging August traffic in that Amalfi Coast tourist mecca.

  The number Dana had called a few days before was stored in his cell phone. All he’d had to do was call it and pretend to represent the rental agency Dana had used, saying he needed to deliver items recovered from the wrecked car. Her friend Caryn had been wary at first, but he was able to provide enough detail to allay her suspicion.

  Dana’s two friends did not answer the door at the villa. He found them at the pool behind it, stretched out on recliners with their faces shaded by broad-brimmed hats, sun glasses over their eyes and frosted drinks beside them.

  “I see you have discovered the joys of our limoncello,” he said as he stopped a few feet away.

  They sat up as he came nearer. One was short, blonde, blue-eyed and curvaceous, the other dark-haired, rail-thin and exotic. Both were suspicious.

  The blonde whipped off her sun glasses, the better to inspect him.

  “And who might you be?”

  “I am Andrea Tonello, a friend of Dana’s.”

  “Dana doesn’t have any friends in Italy.” The dark-haired girl watched him wit
h a frown between the winged brows above her chocolate-brown eyes.

  “She did not when she arrived.” He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Now, she does. I called a short while ago about delivering her belongings?”

  “Funny, but I don’t see them.”

  He gave them his most forthright smile. “No. There has been a slight change of plans.”

  “Where is she? Why isn’t she with you if you’re such a good friend?”

  That was the blonde, who sat up and reached for a terrycloth robe to cover her bikini. She could not know that, attractive though she might be in her miniscule white suit, Andrea preferred maillots these days.

  “She is waiting on the island,” he answered. “I have come to take you away at once to see her.”

  The pair looked at each other. When they turned back to him, there was no relenting in either face. “What island? Where?”

  “My island actually, a private one no great distance out there.” He spread a hand in the direction of the sea.

  “Yours.” The dark-haired girl’s voice was flat and quite unimpressed, probably because she didn’t believe him.

  “Mine, I promise you. It has belonged to my family for many centuries.”

  “And we’re supposed to accept what you say, just like that?”

  Instead of answering, he asked, “Which of you is Caryn and which is Suzanne? Wait, allow me to guess.” He smiled at the blonde. “You are Suzanne, I think.”

  Suzanne glanced at Caryn. “At least he must have talked to her.”

  “And what else,” Caryn said, narrowing her large dark eyes. “What have you done with her?”

  “Caryn!” Suzanne said in protest.

  “What?” the other girl demanded, turning on her friend. “All we heard from Dana is that something happened, an accident of some kind, that she would be delayed but would tell us all about when she saw us. Now this.”

  “Well, somebody has to know where she’s been all this time,” Suzanne answered. “Why not him?”

  Andrea thought he could warm to the small blonde, though he was less enamored with the brunette. Still, he was pleased to see that Dana had two such protective, caring friends. It made success for what he was about to do seem more promising.