by Annie West
Despite those top-class legs, reason dictated she wasn’t his type. Pocket Venus redheads with attitude and tarnished reputations weren’t his style. Give him a brunette with a madonna smile and a docile nature any day.
Unfortunately the voice of reason stayed silent on this occasion.
‘What is this place?’ She stared at the desk before them. ‘Are we allowed in here?’
He shrugged and closed the door. ‘We are here. And we have privacy. That’s all that matters.’
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth as if to argue then clearly thought better of it.
Good. Things would proceed more easily when she learned to accede to his wishes. A shaft of anticipation warmed his belly at the thought.
‘Your bridegroom—’
‘What happened to Jason? Have you seen him?’ No mistaking the concern in her voice. He catalogued the fact for later consideration. Perhaps, after all, their wedding hadn’t been purely a convenient arrangement. Perhaps lust as well as greed had been a factor in her marriage plans.
He remembered Jason Donnelly’s weak, handsome face—good looks but no substance. Was he the sort of man that attracted her? The idea was strangely disquieting. He had no interest in this woman’s weaknesses, except insofar as he could exploit them to his advantage.
‘I saw him this afternoon.’
‘Is he all right? What happened?’
Dario felt a stirring of pleasure, remembering the ease with which this afternoon’s interview had followed the map he’d laid out for it.
‘Nothing happened. Your Mr Donnelly is perfectly well, though he is no longer your Mr Donnelly.’
Her brow puckered in a frown and Dario wondered if he’d let his satisfaction show. What did it matter if he had? There was nothing she could do about it. He held all the cards. No matter how much she protested, she’d find the only way forward was his way. After all the trouble she’d caused the knowledge pleased him.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He has decided he no longer wishes to marry you.’
‘But why? And why not tell me himself? Why send a stranger?’
‘He didn’t send me. I chose to come.’
Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. Then she sagged back against the desk, shaking her head.
‘Look, can’t you just tell me? What’s going on?’
‘Mr Donnelly had a better offer. An offer he found it impossible to refuse. As a result he changed his mind about marriage.’ Dario had made absolutely sure of that.
‘An offer of what? Not marriage!’
Dario paced further into the room to stand before her, his feet planted wide, his hands finding his pockets as he enjoyed this moment of triumph.
‘An offer of money, of course. That’s the language the two of you understand best.’ He watched her pupils dilate, darkening her eyes. Her jaw sagged to reveal even white teeth and a glimpse of moist pink tongue.
Dario frowned. It was impossible that any woman should look sexy while gawping in disbelief, but somehow Alissa Mangano…no, Alissa Scott, managed it. That mouth was ripe, luscious, inviting. He felt a tingle of awareness, a tightening of muscles as his gaze zeroed in on the dainty curl of her tongue circling her lips.
He set his jaw. Lust for this woman was not on his agenda. His standards were higher than that.
‘Money to do what?’ She stood straight now, her momentary weakness sloughed. She stuck her hands on her hips, a picture of demanding femininity. Her neat chin jutted belligerently. ‘And who made him this offer?’
Dario permitted himself a small, satisfied smile. ‘I did. I offered him enough cash to ensure he gave up all thoughts of marrying you.’
It had been ludicrously easy. If Donnelly and this woman were lovers, there was no loyalty between them. Donnelly had jumped at the chance of cash in hand with no thought for the woman he’d jilt. It had been Dario who suggested he leave a message at the registry office.
Colour flagged her cheeks and her eyes sparked, giving her a vibrancy that had been missing before. A vibrancy that only enhanced her looks.
‘Why would you do that?’ She took a step closer as if to get a better look at him, staring straight into his eyes. Despite himself, Dario was impressed that she wasn’t daunted as so many people were in his presence.
But then she didn’t yet know who he was.
He shrugged and spread his hands. ‘Because he was in the way.’ And Dario had no patience for obstacles in his path. ‘Because you will be marrying me instead.’
CHAPTER TWO
HE MEANT it!
Unbelievably this stranger was in deadly earnest. Alissa shivered and curled her arms tight round herself. She stared up into that smirking, satisfied, gorgeous face and felt the bottom drop out of her world.
‘Who the devil are you?’ It emerged as a hoarse whisper, barely audible despite the stillness of the room.
For a heartbeat, then two, then three, there was silence.
‘I am Dario Parisi.’
The words echoed in her ears like a death knell. Why hadn’t she guessed before? The Italian accent, the outrageously handsome face, the arrogance, the air of discreet elegance only serious money could achieve. The hatred in his eyes.
But who’d believe he’d cross the globe to confront her in person? He’d been persistent. Now it seemed he was obsessed.
Alissa bit her unsteady lip. Looking into the intense burn of that stare was like looking into the scorching fires of hell. Dangerous, unforgiving and inescapable. She already knew this man was without mercy or finer feeling.
He had a reputation for ruthlessness and success the Press adored. In business he was without rival, letting nothing stand in his way when he wanted something. And in love…he had a reputation for being just as ruthless in acquiring and discarding gorgeous women.
‘I’m delighted you remember my name,’ he drawled, the sting of sarcasm making her wince. ‘I thought perhaps you’d put it from your mind.’
How could she when it had been imprinted on her consciousness every day? Her grandfather had been determined to marry her to Dario Parisi, alternately extolling his virtues and threatening her with retribution if she didn’t obey. He’d taken special delight in reading out reports in the Italian papers describing Parisi’s phenomenal success and his merciless tactics.
Her shivers grew to a shudder. A huge spider seemed to tap-dance down her backbone. She gritted her teeth and stood straighter, willing the trembling to recede.
It didn’t matter how powerful he was, or that years of threats had turned Dario Parisi into a name to fear. He was just a man. Wealthy, ruthless, determined, but he had no power over her.
‘You could have told me your name straight away. Or didn’t it suit your desire for melodrama?’ She refused to look away from that accusing glare. ‘Was I supposed to faint at the realisation I was in your presence?’
Alissa wouldn’t let him see how close she’d been to doing precisely that. Her heart pumped double time and her body was rigid from an overdose of adrenalin. But she had to stand up to him. She’d learned that was the only way to deal with a bully.
He scowled and Alissa experienced a fillip of delight that she’d chipped his superior air.
‘But then,’ he said in an easy voice as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘it’s not surprising you remember the name of the man you were supposed to marry.’
‘We were never—’
‘Ah, but we were, Alissa.’ He spoke her name like a slow, lethal caress, his emphasis on the sibilants giving it a whole new, provocative sound. ‘It had been agreed.’ The heat left his eyes, replaced by chilly hauteur.
‘Not by me!’ She drew herself up to her full height, glaring unabashed into his dark stare. ‘Surely the bride has something to say in such circumstances.’
He shrugged those broad shoulders in a movement that was pure Italian male. She hated it.
‘Not necessarily,’ he murmured.
She stared.
&n
bsp; Not necessarily.
That attitude summed him up. He was just like the old man: manipulative, domineering and chauvinistic. Yet he was only in his early thirties. What was it about Sicily that produced men like that, all ego and testosterone?
‘In this century women have as much say in who they marry as men. And I didn’t want to marry you.’
Shards of ice rayed out from his frozen glare.
‘You thought I was eager to wed you?’ His accent thickened, the only sign of emotion as he stood ramrod-straight. ‘You think I delighted in the prospect of marrying a Mangano? That I wanted a bride of that tainted blood? A spoiled, irresponsible troublemaker who…’ He reined in the thread of vitriolic accusation, his mouth flattening in a hard line of contempt.
‘You know why I countenanced the match. It had nothing to do with desire for such a wife as you.’
That put her in her place! Alissa felt at a complete disadvantage, bedraggled and shivery, bruised by the sheer force of his personality. She dragged in a breath and slid clammy palms down her damp skirt, searching for a poise she was far from feeling.
‘No, you wanted the Sicilian estate I’d bring as dowry. A crumbling castle and overgrown vineyards.’ It was unbelievable that he set such store in stones, mortar and soil. Enough to agree to an arranged marriage to a woman he’d never met. Enough to collaborate with Gianfranco Mangano, the man he abhorred.
Dario Parisi was a tycoon with more wealth than he could spend in a lifetime, and still he wanted more. Her grandfather had been the same. They’d vied for the same property, using it and her to further their bitter feud.
His nostrils pinched and his jaw tightened till his neck corded with tension. Those were the only indicators of his struggle to restrain his fury. His face remained impassive, his gaze unreadable.
He obviously had a right royal temper, yet he knew how to control it. If it had been the old man, he’d have lashed out by now, incensed at her for standing up to him.
‘I can’t believe you bought Jason off.’ She paced away from him, needing distance from his imposing presence. ‘It must have cost you.’
‘Your boyfriend is easily tempted.’ Dario’s gaze didn’t leave her face, yet she had the uncomfortable feeling his attention trawled over her. Heat rose in her throat and she turned to pace again, avoiding that skewering stare.
‘Obviously Mr Donnelly didn’t feel your…charms were enough to entice him to go through with the deal.’
Her charms! Didn’t he realise Jason was gay? But then Jason didn’t wear his sexuality on his sleeve.
‘You came all the way from Sicily just to stop my marriage?’ She paused to shaft a glance at him. ‘You must hate the Manganos very much.’ The shudder ricocheting through her had nothing to do with her wet clothes.
He shrugged, and this time the movement was anything but insouciant. ‘Your family stole from mine. Cheated mine. Deprived me of my birthright, thieving not only my family’s home but also the opportunities that should have been mine. Did you ever think of that as you enjoyed your comfortable life? Did you spare a thought for those whose misfortunes laid the foundations for your luxurious lifestyle?’
Fury radiated from his glittering eyes, the steel-grey of a drawn sword. His posture was aggressive, like that of a man poised to destroy.
Alissa opened her mouth to tell him her life hadn’t been one of luxury, but of punishment and fear. Yet he wouldn’t believe her. He’d seen her grandfather’s home, the grandest in that district of Victoria. He’d believe what he wanted to believe.
Just as the local townspeople had found it convenient to believe Gianfranco was a devoted old man who lavished care and luxury on his granddaughters. Far easier than facing the truth, that the pillar of society was a miserly sadist who spent a small fortune entertaining dignitaries to build his prestige but who thought nothing of sentencing his granddaughters to a week of bread and water for the slightest disobedience.
‘Well? Nothing to say?’
She looked up into heavily lidded eyes, ignoring the flutter of tension in her stomach as she met his scathing glare. It wasn’t her fault Dario Parisi was caught up in the destructive vendetta between their families.
‘I’m not responsible for my grandfather’s actions.’
‘So you admit he did wrong?’
Alissa’s lips firmed at the recollection of Gianfranco’s crimes. The memories were so vivid she found her hands clasped together, white-knuckled and shaking.
Carefully she unknotted her fingers and let her hands fall. The past was the past. It was that knowledge which had enabled her to turn her life around, hers and Donna’s.
‘He did many things that were wrong. Perhaps now he’s paying for them.’ He’d been frightened enough by the looming prospect of death to leave his estate to the church, trying to atone for a lifetime of sins. All except the Sicilian property. He’d used that to try manipulating her one last time.
‘Don’t expect me to shoulder his guilt.’ She stared back boldly, refusing to be intimidated. After what she’d survived a tongue-lashing was nothing. More important was the vital question of how to meet the terms of the will and get the inheritance she so desperately needed.
‘Can I help you?’ A disapproving voice made Alissa spin round. A woman in a navy suit glared at them from an open doorway. Alissa opened her mouth to apologise for intruding but Dario forestalled her.
‘Chiedo scusa. We shouldn’t be here, I know.’ He lifted his shoulders and spread his open hands and smiled.
Even from where Alissa stood to one side, that smile was spectacular. It transformed his face from censorious and autocratic to warm, attractive and, she hated to admit it, downright sexy.
She blinked but the metamorphosis remained in place. He looked a completely different man. If she hadn’t known what sort of guy Dario Parisi was she’d have thought him stunning. Even his eyes sparkled with charming, rueful apology. And that smile…
He was more dangerous than she’d thought!
The sheer force of his personality and his absolute determination to get what he wanted made him formidable enough. But with a charm that made even Alissa’s pulse quicken? Definitely a man to beware.
The office worker didn’t think so. Her frown melted and a smile hovered on her prim mouth as she heard his glib explanation, liberally peppered with Italian phrases. Cynically Alissa wondered if they were a deliberate part of the charming-Mediterranean-male persona he’d adopted.
It was only when he used the words ‘my fiancée’ and stepped close that she focused on the content of his spiel. She jerked out of reach as he explained how he and his fiancée needed privacy to discuss a personal matter.
Alissa glared, but her anger only corroborated the implication they’d had a lovers’ tiff. Before she could set the record straight the other woman was actually apologising that she couldn’t let them use her office as she had urgent work to do.
Unbelievable!
‘No, no, you mustn’t apologise. We have intruded here long enough.’ He turned to Alissa. ‘Come, cara.’
Alissa nodded at the now beaming woman and walked stiff-legged from the room, speeding up when she felt the proprietorial warmth of his touch in the small of her back.
She didn’t pause as they walked outside. The rain had eased and she marched down the steps, too aware of Dario beside her. He was infuriating, impossible and an undoubted threat. Yet she couldn’t ignore a tiny thrill of awareness at his long, lean body so close to hers.
She must be going crazy.
‘In here, fidanzatina mia.’
‘I’m not your little fiancée.’ The words shot out of her mouth, indignation flaring anew. Her Italian was rusty but that she understood. ‘We don’t have an audience now so you can drop the act.’
She turned to see him inviting her to enter a limo, complete with tinted windows and a chauffeur standing to attention at the door. It was in a ‘No Stopping’ zone and the chauffeur, despite his suit, looked more like a burl
y bodyguard than a mere driver. More reminders of Dario’s status and wealth.
‘I’m not going anywhere in that.’ Not with Dario Parisi. Especially not in a limo with blacked-out windows, driven by a goon.
‘We have things to discuss.’ The thread of almost-temper wove through his words, though his face gave nothing away. ‘You know it. This isn’t finished.’
Unfortunately he was right. Alissa would have loved to stalk away and never see him again. But that wasn’t going to happen. Her shoulders slumped as weariness and worry took their toll. What choice did she have?
‘OK.’ She paused, thinking rapidly. ‘There’s a decent café two blocks away. We should find a quiet table.’
Silently he regarded her as if she were some unique specimen. Perhaps she was, refusing to kowtow to him. She’d bet a lot of women would just say ‘Yes, Dario. Whatever you say, Dario’, blinded by his wealth and fatal charm.
Even now the memory of his sexy smile warmed a shocked part of her.
‘Daccordo. Come on, then. Lead the way.’ He gestured her forward and paused to speak to the chauffeur.
You will be marrying me instead. His words resounded in her head as she walked. The words she’d steadfastly refused to think about for the last few minutes.
Could it be true? Could that be why he’d come to Australia? To claim her as his bride?
The idea sent a chill of trepidation through her. She tugged her shoulder bag on more securely and hugged her arms tight across her torso.
Dario Parisi’s bride…the very fate she’d been so determined to avoid.
How she’d paid for her determination that last year in the old man’s house. He’d never forgiven her refusal to comply with his scheme to link the two families.
She should have left home then, but she’d felt compelled to stay till Donna was legally old enough to leave home too. Donna had been her responsibility for as long as she could remember. She’d never leave her little sister alone to their grandfather’s tender mercies.
