by Annie West
‘Everything’s fine, little one. I’ve got a surprise for you both.’
* * *
The surprise was a trip to the mainland, to a town that climbed steep hills in a fantasy of pastel-washed houses. Lucy wished she had a camera. Everywhere she turned were amazing vistas and intriguing corners.
‘Come on, you’re so slow.’ Chiara tugged her hand.
‘I’ve never seen any place like this.’ Lucy lifted her gaze past a tree heavy with huge golden lemons to the view of green hilltops above the town. ‘It’s beautiful.’
The little girl tilted her head. ‘Isn’t it pretty where you come from?’
Instantly Lucy had a vision of grey concrete and metal, of bare floors and inmates scarred by life. It seemed like a dream as she stood here in the mellow afternoon sunlight.
‘Yes, it is pretty.’ She thought of the village where she’d grown up. ‘The bluebells grow so thick in spring it’s like a carpet in the forest. Our house had roses around the door and the biggest swing you ever saw underneath a huge old tree in the garden.’
Summers had seemed endless then. Like this one. Except it had to end.
She’d have to forget trying to find a bookkeeping job. Instead she’d look for casual waitressing when she got to England. Something that didn’t require character references.
‘Come on.’ Chiara tugged her hand again. ‘Domi said we can have a gelato in the square.’
Lucy let herself be led back towards the centre of town. Domenico would have finished his errand for Chiara’s nonna. He’d be waiting. Her heart gave a little jump that reminded her forcibly that it was time to leave for England.
Yet her smile lingered. For this afternoon she’d live in the moment. Surely she could afford to store up memories of one perfect afternoon before she faced the bleak future?
They were passing some shops, Chiara hopping on one leg then the other, when a shout yanked Lucy’s head around.
‘Look! It’s her!’
A thin woman on the other side of the narrow street pointed straight at Lucy and Chiara.
‘I told you it was her when they walked up the hill, but you didn’t believe me. So I went in and got this. See?’ She waved a magazine, drawing the attention not only of the man beside her, but of passers-by.
Lucy’s heart sank. She took Chiara’s hand. ‘Come on, sweetie.’
But the woman moved faster, her voice rising.
‘It’s her I tell you. She’s a killer. What’s she doing with that girl? Someone should call the police.’
Nausea roiled in Lucy’s belly as she forced herself to walk steadily, not break into a sprint. That would only frighten Chiara. Besides, fleeing would only incite the crowd. She remembered how a mob of inmates reacted when they sensed fear in a newcomer.
Skin prickling from the heat of so many avid stares, she tugged Chiara a little faster. Around them were murmurs from a gathering crowd.
The woman with the magazine came close but not close enough to stop their progress. But the malevolent curiosity on her sharp features spelled trouble. For a moment Lucy was tempted to snarl a threat to make her shrink back.
But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to regress to that hunted woman she’d been, half-savage with the need to escape, ready to lash out at anyone in her way.
It had only been a few weeks since her release but they’d altered her. She’d lost the dangerous edge that had been her protection in prison. Besides, what sort of example would that set? She squeezed Chiara’s hand and kept walking.
‘Why doesn’t someone stop her?’ the woman shrieked. ‘She’s a murderer. She shouldn’t be allowed near an innocent child.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw the picture in the magazine she waved like a banner. It was a close-up of Lucy getting into Domenico’s limousine. The headline in blood-red said, ‘Where Is Sandro’s Killer Now?’.
Her heart leapt against her ribcage as fear battered her. The nightmare would never end, would it? Now Chiara was caught in it. She felt the child flinch as the woman screeched. Anger fired deep inside.
She stopped and turned, tugging Chiara protectively behind her.
The woman shrank back apace. ‘Don’t let her hurt me! Help!’ Instantly others surged forward, curious.
‘Signora—’ Lucy dredged up a polite tone ‘—please don’t shout. Can’t you see you’re frightening my friend? It would be much better for everyone if you didn’t.’
The woman gawped, opening then closing her mouth. Then she hissed, ‘Listen! She’s threatening me.’
‘Lucy?’ Chiara’s voice was unsteady, her eyes huge as Lucy turned to reassure her, stroking her hair and plastering what she hoped was a confident smile on her face. But inside she trembled. This was turning ugly.
‘Grab her, someone. Can’t you see she shouldn’t be with that child?’
There was a murmur from the crowd and Lucy sensed movement towards her. She spun around to confront a sea of faces. Her stomach dived but she drew herself up straight.
‘Touch me or my friend and you’ll answer to the police.’ She kept her tone calm by sheer willpower, her gaze scanning back and forth across the gathering.
* * *
The words were loud even over the mutterings of the crowd. And enough to hold them back...for now.
Domenico took in the defiant tilt of Lucy’s head and her wide-planted feet, as if she stood ready to fight off an attack. But she couldn’t fend them off. Her hands were behind her back, holding Chiara’s.
She looked like a lioness defending her young.
A lioness outnumbered by hunters.
Something plunged through his chest, a sharp purging heat like iron hot from the forge. His hands curled into fists so tight they trembled with the force of his rage. He wanted to smash something. Preferably the shrewish face of the woman stirring the crowd.
He strode up behind Lucy.
She must have sensed movement for she swung round, her face pale.
Her eyes widened. She gulped, drawing attention to the tense muscles in her slender throat and the flat line of her mouth. She looked down, murmuring reassurance to Chiara, but not before he’d seen the fear in her eyes. Half an hour ago those eyes had danced with pleasure at the sight of the pretty town and its market stalls.
Naked fury misted his vision.
Domenico stalked the last pace towards her. In one swift movement he scooped up Chiara and cuddled her close. He looped his other arm around Lucy and pulled her to him. She was rigid as a board and he felt tension hum through her, an undercurrent of leashed energy.
‘I don’t know who you are,’ he growled at the harridan in the thick of the crowd, ‘but I’ll thank you not to frighten my family.’
Beside him Lucy jerked then stilled. He heard her soft gasp and rubbed his palm up her arm. It was covered in goose bumps. Damn him for leaving them alone!
‘But she’s—’
‘It doesn’t matter who she is, signora. But I’ll have your name.’ His voice was lethal. ‘I’ll need it for my complaint to the police. For public nuisance and harassment.’ He watched the woman wilt. ‘Possibly incitement to violence.’
He turned and glared at the gathering, which had already thinned substantially.
‘And the names of anyone else involved.’
He turned to Chiara, giving them time to digest that. ‘Are you all right, bella?’
She nodded. ‘But Lucy isn’t. She was shaking.’
‘It’s all right, little one. I’m here now and Lucy will be fine.’
Domenico felt Lucy shudder and held her tighter, wishing he had both arms free to hold her. Wishing he hadn’t dispensed with security support today. He turned back to the street. Only a couple of people remained, watching wide-eyed. He heard the woman at the front whispering.
‘He’s the one in the magazine. The one whose—’
‘Basta!’ He scowled. ‘One more word from you and I’m pressing charges.’ He gave her a look he reserved f
or underperforming managers. A moment later, she and her companions had scuttled away.
‘Right, girls.’ He turned towards the main square, his arms tight around Chiara and Lucy, his tone as reassuring as he could make it over simmering fury. ‘Gelato time. I’m having lemon. How about you?’
CHAPTER TEN
LUCY SHOVED HER spare shoes into her bag. Just as well she didn’t have much to pack. She’d be done in no time.
Then what? the little voice in the back of her head piped up. Back to the town where you almost caused a riot simply walking down the street?
She’d talk to Domenico—
No, not him.
She’d talk to Rocco. Surely a security expert could suggest how she could get away and lose herself in the crowds of a big city in England. Anonymity was all she asked. She had no hope of ever getting that in Italy. Not with the press hot on her trail.
Unless she gave in and sold her story.
Her stomach cramped at the idea of lowering herself like Sylvia, her stepmother. That betrayal cut deep. How could Sylvia have done it?
Lucy needed the money, now more than ever. But she needed her self-respect too.
She grabbed a shirt and slapped it on top of the shoes, fighting the hot prickle of tears.
What was happening to her? She hadn’t cried in years, not till Chiara’s accident. Now she wanted to curl up and blub out her self-pity. It was as if her defences had collapsed, leaving her prey to weakness she’d thought she’d conquered years before.
She looked at the winking lights of the mainland.
A few hours ago she’d been happy. Happier than she’d believed possible. The day had been glorious, the surroundings spectacular, and she’d basked in Domenico’s approval and solicitude. She’d blossomed into a woman she barely recognised, who actually believed good things might come to pass. Who believed Domenico saw beyond the surface to the woman she was at heart, or was before the last years had scarred her.
She dragged a deep breath into constricted lungs.
He’d been kind, caring, fun. She’d enjoyed his company. More, she’d believed he’d enjoyed hers. And though he hadn’t kissed her again, she’d felt the weight of it between them, a potent presence. A promise.
But there could never be more between them. She tried to tell herself he was softening her up to convince her to sign his contract. But she rejected the idea.
Why?
Because she’d fallen for him.
Her hands clenched so hard the nails bit crescents into her flesh.
Pathetic, wasn’t she? As if he’d ever care for her.
Maybe those years in jail had warped her judgement—made her ready to succumb to the tiniest hint of caring. She was ready for passion and more, for tenderness, because they’d been denied her so long. That had to be the reason. How else could she explain the way she’d fallen for Domenico like a ripe plum?
She was doing the right thing, getting on with life. This time tomorrow she’d be in anonymous London.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
His voice slid like a finger of dark arousal down her spine. Lucy trembled and clutched her clothes tight. Her heart pounded so hard it seemed in danger of bursting free.
‘Packing.’ She didn’t turn. This was difficult enough already. Domenico made her weak in too many ways.
Her pulse thundered as she waited for his response. Maybe he’d turn and leave, glad to be rid of her.
When he spoke again he was so close his words wafted warm air on her neck. She shivered with longing.
‘No, you’re not.’
Lucy spun round, dropping clothes from nerveless fingers.
‘I beg your pardon?’ She drew herself up. ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’
But her defiance was hollow. Her heart wasn’t in it. Especially when the sight of his arrogant, endearing, brooding features clamped a different sort of pain around her chest.
She yearned for him to pull her into his embrace as he had earlier and convince her that everything would be okay.
Except it wouldn’t. Nothing could make this right.
‘You’re not the sort to run away when things get tough.’
Lucy’s eyes widened at the compliment.
Or did he just see her as prison-tough and able to weather anything?
‘Watch me!’ She turned to her case but he grabbed her upper arm and hauled her round towards him.
Shock froze her. Some part of her brain rehearsed the quick, violent action that would make him break his hold, yet she made no move to free herself.
‘You’re not a coward.’
He was so close his words caressed her forehead. Unbidden, rills of pleasure trickled across sensitive nerve endings.
‘This isn’t just about me. What about Chiara? She got caught up in this.’
‘You’re using Chiara as an excuse.’
‘Excuse?’ Her voice rose to a screech as guilt and despair filled her. ‘Don’t you understand what happened back there?’ She waved an arm towards the mainland. ‘I’ve seen what a mob can do. I don’t want Chiara or anyone else put in danger because of me.’
Lucy yanked her arm free and marched to the door, gesturing for him to leave. He followed, but only to stand before her, hands on hips and mouth stern.
‘Our business isn’t finished.’
‘Your business, not mine!’
Cold washed through her as she realised that was what mattered to him. Signing that contract. Selling her soul and her chance to prove her innocence.
That was all she was. A problem to be sorted.
That was the only reason he’d been so nice to her. Nice enough for her to weave foolish dreams all over again.
Lucy thought she’d dredged the depths of despair but Domenico opened up a whole new chasm of it. She trembled on the brink of a vast void of anguish.
‘I’m leaving.’ Her words were clipped by welling emotion.
‘You’re going because you’re scared.’
‘Scared? Me?’
Her eyes rounded as he reached out one long arm and pushed the door shut with a decisive click.
‘Oh, yes,’ he purred in a low, menacing tone that made the hairs on her nape rise. ‘You.’ His face was implacable. Fear rippled through her.
Or was it excitement?
She stared, unable to break his gaze. What she saw unnerved her. Those hooded eyes were dark as a stormy sky, piercing as a dagger to the chest. She tried to fill her lungs and couldn’t.
‘I’m the menace to society, remember? People are scared of me.’
* * *
The bitter twist to her lips and the wretched, jarring note in her voice tore through Domenico’s good intentions.
He pressed forward till she was flush against the wall.
Something wrenched in his gut at her retreat. He read her haunted expression, the jut of her chin and the shadows in her eyes.
Silently he cursed.
He refused to let her retreat into her shell again. She’d just let him discover the warm, vibrant woman behind the sassy attitude and touch-me-not air.
Briefly he thought of his family responsibility but nothing had the power to pull him back now. What was between Lucy and himself was every bit as important as his reverence for Sandro’s memory.
‘What have I got to be scared of?’ It was pure bravado speaking but he heard the pain beneath. His heart clenched even as anger and anticipation surged.
‘This.’
He took her jaw in his left hand, splayed his right on the wall beside her head and kissed her with all the force of his pent up fury and desire.
His senses convulsed in an explosion of pleasure. The sweet scent of her filled him, and her body against his was pure enticement. He swallowed her gasp of shock and heard it turn to a mewl of pleasure that revved his need higher. A shiver rippled through her and she arched against him, tearing away his last coherent thought.
He tasted her on his tongue, tart and sweet, like c
itrus and sugar syrup. Deeper he delved, needing more. Needing all she had.
The world tilted then righted itself as, with a groan of surrender, Lucy opened her mouth, luring him deep with the flick of her hungry tongue against his.
Instantly heat ignited in his groin. He pressed her to the wall, ravaging her mouth. Days of desperate longing had built need so deep one kiss couldn’t satisfy. Domenico swept his hand down her arm and across to the swell of her breast. She stiffened, then desperate fingers threaded his hair, holding him to her as she kissed him with a passion that made his senses swim.
He squeezed her breast, rejoicing as its lush weight fitted his palm. His grip tightened and he wondered dimly if he should ease his hold but Lucy pressed closer, sending the last of his control spiralling into nothingness.
He was burning, fire instead of blood running in his arteries, hunger humming through each nerve and sinew.
Tearing fingers wrenched her shirt undone so he could tug her bra down beneath her breast. Her skin was silk and heat. His hand shook as he toyed with her nipple and heard her gasp of surrender.
He wanted to feast on her breast, lave her nipple and watch her writhe in pleasure. But he didn’t have the patience.
One touch had sparked the powder keg of desire he’d guarded so long. Bending his knees, he ground his hips against hers, rejoicing in the friction against the warm centre of her womanhood. Lightning filled the blackness behind his eyelids.
‘More!’ Lucy gasped against his mouth, her hands almost painful against his scalp as she strained higher against him.
In his arms she grew frantic, her breath coming in little hard pants as she pulled her mouth from his and nuzzled his collar aside to bite the curve between his neck and shoulder.
Domenico shuddered as a bolt of jagged fire transfixed him.
He rocked into her again and she lifted one leg, wrapping it around his thigh as she tried to climb him.
A man could only withstand so much.
Hands at her waist, he hoisted her high, satisfaction rising as she wrapped him in her thighs, locking her ankles hard as if closing a trap.
