She shoved her father’s massive chair aside and rounded the desk, facing him. “Why? What does it matter as long as your bride is happy?”
He drove his fingers through his hair, then pinned her with a look so intense she had to lean against the desk to keep from swaying. “Because the bride insists that you be there to oversee every detail.”
“And you would do anything for your bride,” she said.
“Si. I want her day to be perfect.”
Exactly what every groom should want, except this man had once asked her to marry him. The man who had vowed to stand by her. Believe her. Protect her.
Marco had failed miserably at all three. What was to stop him from stringing her along to get his way?
“Not good enough,” she said. “I demand a guarantee in writing that I’ll get my company back when the work is done.”
“No. You get the company if your work is satisfactory to the bride.”
“And if she nitpicks?”
“You have a reputation for pleasing the most finicky client.”
“Within reason,” she clarified.
He almost smiled. “You’ll be amply compensated for your time.”
And make a fool of herself over him again? She shook her head, having been down that rocky road before, having trusted him before. Never again.
“Forget it. I’ll never agree to that.”
“Don’t make vows you can’t keep,” he said.
“Trust me, I can keep this one!”
He glared at her, a stone pillar of a man who had once been turgid hot flesh and blazing passion in her arms. Ancient history.
They had been a bright nova. They’d come together in a cataclysmic crash of passion only to fade into cold darkness when it ended. He’d hurt her more than she’d thought possible. Was still hurting her, she thought sourly.
“I never knew you, Marco, but then that’s how you wanted it,” she said, letting him see the pain and anguish that must be evident in her eyes. “You put up walls and shared very little about your past or your fears, and the dreams you wove for our future were hazy.”
“Yet you were willing to marry me.”
She bit her lip, wanting to deny it. But she couldn’t. “I was young. Naive. I trusted you.” Loved him.
Marco’s brow snapped into a V as he jerked his gaze from her and mouthed a curse. Then he presented a broad rigid back to her, fists clenched at his sides.
She hadn’t expected a like confession from him. That wouldn’t be Marco. So why were tears stinging her eyes?
Dammit, she’d held her poise and dignity throughout the funeral. She certainly wouldn’t give Marco the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d crushed her again. How close she was to crumbling into a heap.
Head high, she marched toward the door. There was no reason to stay, no use to try and negotiate with him. That would be up to Henry now.
No home. No job. Nothing but her pride.
“I am not finished with you,” he said.
“Tough,” she said, relieved her voice didn’t betray her heartache, that her knees didn’t buckle. “I’m finished with you.”
A few more feet and she was closing the door behind her with that same resounding click she’d heard as he’d entered. A sob caught in her throat but she managed to choke it back as she ran across the waiting room toward an uncertain future.
CHAPTER TWO
MARCO wrenched the door open with nearly enough force to pull the heavy oak panel off the bronze hinges. Amazing that just a few minutes in Delanie Tate’s infuriating company could fling him right back into that chaotic mix of emotions he’d tried to run from all his life.
His disposition was soured by the fact his body stirred at being near her again. That his heart thundered despite the anger cracking like sheet lightning along his nerves.
No woman but Delanie had ever brought those explosive emotions out in him, but with that intense desire came fear. A cold choking fear that he’d never understood until he’d returned to Italy ten years ago and yanked the dark shroud off his past.
He should let Delanie go. Cut his losses now and go home. But as his eyes locked on her trim backside running across the waiting room, he knew he couldn’t let her go. Not now. Not when he’d promised his sister that he would return to Italy with Delanie Tate.
He wouldn’t gain her compliance by crossing swords with her. But he damned sure wasn’t going to beg for her help either.
A smile flicked over his lips. He held what she wanted most. She would be the one begging.
“How much does Elite Affair mean to you?” he asked, just as she was a step away from sailing out the door.
She stopped, one hand pressed to the open doorjamb while the toe of one impossibly high black heel remained poised to push her out the door. Even in unrelieved black mourning, she was sexy as hell. And those damned shoes …
The strong, perfectly curved length of her leg and dainty foot in those take-me-now shoes brought back memories of her wearing similar footwear and nothing else. His body stirred, his blood heating to a most uncomfortable level. If not for the steely snap to her slender shoulders and the cool, almost hostile gaze she flung at him just then he would think the pose was staged to entice him.
“Well?” he prodded when she simply glared at him.
“You’re enjoying your victory at my expense.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “My goal was to take down your father’s empire.”
“Which you did. Don’t expect me to congratulate you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, enjoying this side of her. When he’d met her she’d been a combination of playful and meek, leaning more to meek in her father’s shadow.
But in the ensuing years Delanie had acquired bite and verve. The way she held herself and her ability to closet her emotions intrigued him. Not that he wanted to be intrigued again by this woman.
She’d tricked him once. He would never be so foolish as to totally trust her again.
Remembering that betrayal zinged an old burning sensation across his heart. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“Elite Affair means a great deal to me and you know it,” she said, slender shoulders straight and back painfully stiff.
“Then use your head. If you walk out that door now you will toss away any chance of regaining total control of the business you built.”
She went pale, or perhaps it was a trick of the light. “After what you’ve done, how can you expect me to trust you?”
“I don’t,” he said. “This is strictly business. I’ve taken the initiative to draft a mutually beneficial contract. Are you willing to listen to terms or do I fire your employees and liquidate Elite Affair?”
“You’d do that to a profitable business?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Her small hands bunched at her sides and the mouth he’d dreamed of kissing into submission in the dead of night drew into a tight unyielding knot that slammed straight into his gut.
Dammit, he’d expected a tearful confession that she had worked with her father against him, followed by his magnanimous offer to hire her for his sister’s wedding, with Delanie’s reward being a fat check plus title to her company. But she was resisting him at every turn. Showing spunk and a stubborn bent that challenged him—aroused him.
Not that he would back off no matter what she said or did. He’d come this far and there was no retreat. No concession.
His gaze locked with hers and he caught that flicker of doubt. It was a battle of wills and in that he had the upper hand because he held what she wanted most. Elite Affair.
“Fine. We talk,” she snapped, not sparing him a glance.
She had conceded as he’d expected her to do. So why didn’t he feel victorious?
Delanie slammed the door she’d been about to escape through and strode back into her father’s oppressive office, passing him with a swish of her long hair. Ever the reigning prin
cess.
He loosed a smile, enjoying the sight of her full bottom beneath her unbecoming black dress. His gaze remained on those long dainty legs that were deceptively strong, that had once clung tightly to his hips in the throes of passion.
Certainly if he put his mind to it he could have her back in his arms, back in his bed. And that was a complication he had no intention of taking on. Too much was at stake to risk satisfying his libido no matter how tempting. And she damned sure was tempting!
Ironic that the only passion between them now was anger and that shimmered off her in sizzling waves. Even that set his pulse racing, he admitted, sobering instantly.
If only he could cease wanting her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. If only he could purge her from his system once and for all.
He gave his French cuffs a tug and followed her into the room, shutting the door and his emotions firmly behind him. She visibly jumped and he swore.
“Relax,” he said. “I don’t intend to pounce on you.”
“Excuse me for not trusting you,” she said, still presenting her painfully straight back to him.
He fisted his hands, resisting the urge to cross to her and force her to face him. Touching her would be a major mistake.
“That goes both ways, Delanie.”
She whirled to face him, features pinched tight. “If you distrust me so, then why do you want to negotiate with me?”
“I don’t,” he said frankly. “As I told you before, you are the bride’s choice.”
“And you’d do anything to please her.”
“Yes,” he bit out, “but—”
“Including corporate rape,” she interjected, chin thrust out and accusing eyes fixed on him.
He stiffened, the explanation poised on his tongue forgotten. “My takeover of Tate Unlimited was aboveboard.”
“Perhaps,” she said, chin up. “But your motive was revenge, proving you’re no better than my father.”
His fingers wadded into fists. “Never compare me to him.”
The warning was given in the strong, flat monotone that always convinced his opponents to switch topics. Color instantly bloomed on her too-pale cheeks, like vibrant English roses blooming amid snow, but her chin remained up and her gaze glittered defiance.
“Are you denying you acted out of vengeance?” she asked.
“No. But if I was in the same league as your father I would overextend Tate Unlimited until it was destroyed, as he did to my vineyard.”
Lines creased her delicate brow. “What?”
He drove his fingers through his hair and swallowed a curse. “Do not pretend you weren’t aware of its downfall.”
“I had no idea.” She shook her head, voice soft, big blue eyes wide. “Please tell me the truth.”
The look, the plea … That’s all it took to shift his plans off kilter. To get him thinking about her. In his arms. In his bed.
Her innocent act was worthy of an award, he thought grimly.
“You were vice-president of Tate Unlimited. How could you not know when you had access to all corporate records?” he asked.
Color flooded her face and she looked away. “It was a token position. I served as his hostess at business functions and, as he termed it, a charming diversion to his potential clients during intense initial meetings.”
He wouldn’t allow himself to believe her, no matter how much he might want to. “Fine. Play innocent. It doesn’t matter.”
Her fists landed on the plush back of the chair. “I am not playing innocent. I am ignorant of what my father did to your family’s company once he gained control, or why he would destroy something he obviously wanted so badly.”
Her wide eyes pleaded with his, open, unguarded. He huffed out a breath. Swore.
“Sagrantino grapes are prized throughout Italy and the world and my family’s winery grew the best. It was our legacy but few had heard of us outside of Italy because we couldn’t produce enough to satisfy world demand.” A muscle pulsed along his lean jaw. “That’s why I sought your father out. I needed financial backing as well as a noted exporter who could place our wine worldwide. Once he had wrested control of my family’s company, he destroyed it with gross mismanagement.”
“I’m so sorry he did that to you.”
“As am I, because his impatience and ignorance destroyed the vineyard.”
It was time to let the past drop into the black hole of his memories and hammer the lid back on it. He was in control of all that David Tate had owned. That evened the score as far as he was concerned.
As for Delanie, she was back in his life only because of his vow to please his sister. Once she finished planning the wedding, it would be better for both of them if they never saw each other again.
“Your small company has achieved a degree of favorable notoriety,” he said.
She gave him a long appraising look. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“It was brought to my attention.”
His gaze drilled into hers as she stood behind her father’s chair. “I’m giving you the chance to gain sole ownership of Elite Affair, debt-free, by successfully planning a lavish carte blanche wedding that will be photographed and reported worldwide.”
She went absolutely still, eyes widening like saucers. “Why are you willing to hire me with our history between us?”
It was a sound question, especially considering what he’d done—storming the citadel and winning. “You are my sister’s choice because of your company’s promise to work with the bride to make her wedding special. Every plan you do is unique.”
She crossed her arms beneath her bosom and gave the most unladylike snort, as if his compliment meant nothing to her and that almost made him smile. “Does your bride know that you are entrusting arrangements for her wedding to your former lover?”
He shook his head and let a rusty chuckle escape. This bolder side of Delanie was a welcome switch from the demure girl he’d known.
“I am not that trusting,” he admitted. “The bride is my sister, Bella, and she wants someone who will understand her needs and abide by her wishes. She needs your special touch, Delanie.”
Her eyes widened again and the faintest flush stole over her cheekbones. “I wasn’t aware you had a sister.”
“I didn’t know myself until eight years ago.” His hand cut the air, dismissing the topic from further inquiry. “It is complicated.”
“I’ve discovered that many families are ‘complicated’ in ways that have some impact on an upcoming wedding,” she said. “That’s one reason we are selective in our clientele.”
“Is that the only reason why you turned Bella down when she attempted to hire you two weeks ago?” he asked.
Her too-pale lips parted. “You can’t be thinking that I knew she was your sister, because I swear that isn’t the case. And even if I had known, my assistant handles all the initial calls. The moment he discovered the wedding was to take place in Italy, he would have politely declined and wished her well.”
Which, according to Bella, is exactly what had happened. “So what will it be? Your agreement to plan Bella’s wedding for title to your company or do we part company now?”
She bit her lip and frowned, then huffed out a breath and nodded as if coming to grips with her decision. “I’ll do it. I’ll have Henry send a contract to your solicitor by the weekend and we can go from there.”
“That’s too late. The wedding is two weeks from now.”
“That’s not nearly enough time,” she sputtered. “Two months is not sufficient to orchestrate such a lavish affair.”
“If we wait two months it will be clear why the bride is marrying so quickly. Understand?”
Her cheeks flushed a charming pink but she gave a jerky nod. “Yes. Well. That doesn’t leave us much time.”
“No,” he said. “I had my attorney draft a contract for your review. Once you sign we can be off.”
She stiffened up again. “We?”
“I’m in a
time crunch and must return to Italy tonight. You’ll come with me and oversee the details there.”
“I can’t,” she said in a strained voice he’d never heard before, that touched something kindred in him. “My business and assistants are here.”
“There is nothing that can’t be done via the internet or phone,” he said. “You’ll have the best of both at your disposal.”
She cupped her palms to her face, her slender shoulders trembling once. Twice.
That tremor had him fisting his hands to keep from reaching out to her, enfolding her slender form against his length. And that would be a mistake for then she would know how much she’d affected him.
Dammit, he wasn’t going to let her get to him.
“Your answer, Delanie,” he said. “Do you come with me? Or is the deal off?”
She pressed her lips together, throat working. “After all that has happened between us, do you honestly expect me to trust you and drop everything?”
“Yes, because I am entrusting you to organize the most important day in my sister’s life.”
She looked away, stilled, then she bobbed her head and he hoped to hell that meant she understood, that she would cease fighting him.
“I prefer my own contract,” she said.
“As do I.”
Her chin came up again and her gaze clashed with his. Only the tremor in her lower lip belied her total control.
“My contract is designed for my purposes but you are entitled to make minor changes to it if you like,” she said.
He most certainly would do that. Ever since the disaster of dealing with David Tate, Marco had learned to manage his own affairs to the letter.
But this concession was doable. Perhaps even wise, for he would know what she expected and would be able to mount a countermove if necessary.
This time he held control and he would have Delanie close at hand again. And why the hell was he entertaining any thought of being close to her again?
His gaze raked over her, his brow furrowing. The black dress she wore encased the petite figure he remembered with aching clarity. She appeared gaunt and fragile. A deception, he was certain.
Marco paced to the heavily draped window and swore, painfully aware of what was at the heart of it. She’d intrigued him from the start. She still did.
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