by Sarah Morgan
‘Because I’ve never believed that a person’s intrinsic worth comes from what they can buy.’ Slipping his phone into his pocket, he looked at her with mounting exasperation. ‘I don’t understand the problem. You work every night in a seedy club. You didn’t appear concerned about the social pressures when you were singing to a bunch of strangers.’
‘The club is different,’ Jessie croaked. ‘I’m someone else when I’m there.’
‘Well, starting from now, you can learn to be yourself again.’ The phone in his pocket buzzed and Silvio retrieved it from his pocket and checked the number. ‘I have to take this call. Go and find enough outfits to see you through a month without wearing anything twice. And don’t forget beach wear.’
Jessie’s mouth fell open and she stared at him but he appeared to have forgotten her existence and she retreated back behind the curtain, carefully removed the dress and put it back on the hanger.
A champagne reception on his yacht?
Deciding that it was better to embarrass herself now rather than later, Jessie stuck her head through the curtain again, her cheeks scarlet. ‘I’ve never been to a party on a yacht. That’s basically just a big boat, yes? So I presume I need to wear something practical that will fit under a lifejacket. Trousers or something? Deck shoes?’
He terminated the phone call with a few words of Italian. ‘We won’t be leaving the marina, so lifejackets hopefully won’t be necessary. Definitely no trousers—something glamorous would be appropriate. But I agree that an element of practicality is important. Choose a cocktail dress. Nothing long. And no shoes.’
‘No shoes?’
‘Heels damage the boat. Go barefoot.’
‘What if someone treads on my feet?’
‘I’m sure you’re used to dealing with awkward customers.’
Jessie caught her breath, wishing she’d never misled him.
Making a decision, she stepped back onto the stage. ‘Listen…’ She locked her hands together behind her back as if she were standing in the headmaster’s study. ‘I need to talk to you about my life—’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’ Contempt in his tone, his jaw was clenched hard as he continued to scroll through his emails. ‘I can’t think of you like that. I can’t understand why you would do that.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Jessie marched up the catwalk towards him, forgetting to be self-conscious. ‘Switch that wretched thing off and look at me!’ She planted herself in front of him. ‘Look at me!’
His gaze locked on hers, his glorious dark eyes shimmering with derision. ‘I’m looking.’
And he saw a prostitute, she thought bleakly, her eyes feasting on the bold lines of his face and lingering on his mouth. The mouth that could drive a woman insane. Even the scar didn’t detract from his monumental sex appeal. If anything, it added to the sense of danger that women found so irresistible.
Even her…
Confused by her feelings, Jessie’s courage faltered. ‘I—I’m not what you think I am,’ she stammered, wishing she’d never misled him in the first place. ‘My life hasn’t exactly been anything to boast about—I mean, I haven’t achieved anything much, but neither have I sunk as low as you seem to think. All I do in Joe’s bar is sing.’ She said the words fiercely, her gaze fixed somewhere in the middle of his chest. ‘Just sing. Nothing else. I sing, I take my money, I go home. Alone.’ Every night. Alone. Everything she did, she did alone.
But she wasn’t going to think about that now.
She wasn’t going to think about how empty her life was. She’d chosen that path, hadn’t she?
Her confession fell into a long, tense silence.
‘You’ve paid back twenty thousand pounds,’ he drawled, clearly in no hurry to believe her faltering confession. ‘Singers at Joe’s don’t earn that sort of money. Not even with tips.’
‘No, they don’t, you’re right. Which is why I had to find other jobs.’ She didn’t understand why it suddenly seemed so important that he knew the truth. ‘I clean an office block and I work in a café.’
Disbelief shone in his eyes. ‘You don’t finish work until three in the morning. How can you do two other jobs?’
‘I didn’t say I wasn’t permanently exhausted.’ Jessie wrapped her arms around herself, wondering why she’d chosen to say all this standing on a stage. Talk about making a spectacle of herself. Perhaps she should have asked for a megaphone, just to ensure maximum embarrassment. ‘There are some days when my feet ache so much I scrub the floors on my hands and knees because it hurts less. And I’ve been known to drink caffeine nonstop in order to keep myself awake. I admit I’m shattered most of the time. But I’m not what you think I am. And I don’t know why you would have thought that. You should know me better.’
He drew in a long breath. ‘That dress…’
‘It was just a dress, Silvio! It was a bargain. And you’re the one who told me that people shouldn’t judge each other from the outside.’ Exasperated and humiliated, Jessie looked away from him. ‘I don’t have a lot of money to waste on clothes. Joe likes us to wear something glittery and I saw it in a sale. I thought it looked OK…’ Her voice tailed off. ‘I know it was revealing but I got more tips that way—have you come so far that you’ve forgotten how it feels to be desperate for money? And wearing a cheap dress doesn’t make a woman a prostitute, Silvio.’
His phone buzzed again but for once he ignored it. ‘You told me that you use what God gave you.’
‘I was talking about my voice. And I said that after you’d already made your assumption about me.’
There was a long, tense silence broken only by the sound of his breathing and her own heartbeat.
Could he hear it too?
‘Why did you let me think that?’
‘Why did you think it?’
‘Because of the place you were singing. The way you looked.’ He delivered the words with lethal emphasis. ‘The fact that you wouldn’t call the police.’
‘The police can’t handle the workload, you know that. Reporting it to them would have given me more trouble.’
‘You needed money. You wouldn’t be the first person to choose that route when they’re desperate for money.’
‘I’m not that sort of woman, you should know that.’
‘Should I? I knew you as a girl,’ he said softly, his gaze disturbingly acute. ‘I don’t pretend to know the woman.’
Jessie swallowed, her heart pounding and the blood searing her veins. The heat between them was intolerable and she wondered if he could feel it too or whether the connection was all in her head.
‘I’m the same,’ she said hoarsely. ‘The same person I’ve always been.’
‘No.’ His voice was dark, his expression hard as he rose to his feet. ‘Everything is different.’
Jessie stood still, transfixed by the hard lines of his profile. He was breathtakingly, spectacularly handsome, and just looking at him drove every thought from her head. What was different? What did he mean?
No matter what hovered between them, he was still the man who was responsible for her brother’s death. That wasn’t going to change.
She was only here because she had no other choice.
‘Silvio—’
‘The clothes will be sent on,’ he said tersely. ‘We have a flight to catch and my pilot is waiting.’
Chapter Five
THE helicopter swooped across the sparkling sea and Jessie gasped because she’d never experienced anything so thrilling in her life before.
‘It reminds me of being on a fairground ride.’ Breathless, she clutched the edge of her seat, peering out of the window as the turquoise sea flashed beneath them.
‘When did you go to a fairground?’
‘Johnny took me on my fifth birthday. I remember it clearly.’ Through the excitement, she felt the ache build behind her chest. ‘I was too small for the roller-coaster so he pushed tissues into my shoes to make me taller.’
Knowing that Silvio
would disapprove, she didn’t look at him but she could feel him looking at her.
‘And did you enjoy yourself?’
‘Yes.’ Jessie kept her eyes on the water, not confident of her ability to handle this trip down memory lane. ‘But Mum was so angry with him. That night of the fair, she’d bought me a really pretty dress and she was afraid I was going to be sick on it. But I wasn’t. I have a cast-iron stomach.’ The memories were distant—like lights on the shore when you were far out at sea. And they were followed by more painful memories that she didn’t want to confront. ‘Does it cost a fortune to buy a ticket on this?’
‘Why are you asking?’
‘Because it’s even cooler than your private jet and that was pretty amazing. But even that wasn’t as exciting as this. I want to do this again one day.’ Distracted by the novelty of the helicopter ride, Jessie lowered her guard. ‘One day, when everyone is paying to hear my voice, when I have a major recording contract, I’m going to buy myself a helicopter like this one.’
‘You’re enjoying yourself that much?’
Jessie turned her head and the intensity of his gaze made her aware of just how much she’d revealed about herself. She shouldn’t be sharing her thoughts with him.
‘I wasn’t being serious,’ she said lightly, dismissing the confession as unimportant. ‘I was only joking. Being silly.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, Jess. Dreams are what drive us forward.’
But there was everything wrong with sharing a dream with a man who had destroyed the most important part of her life.
‘So what’s your dream?’ She seized the opportunity to shift the emphasis of the conversation. ‘Why have you returned to Sicily after all these years? I presume it’s not a coincidence. Have you rediscovered your roots or something?’
In all the years she’d known him, he’d never mentioned his past. All she knew was the little her brother had told her—that Silvio had spent the first ten years of his life on this Mediterranean island. And that his father had been violent.
‘I opened my flagship hotel here recently. It’s my biggest project—the culmination of three years of hard work.’
Three years. He’d come to Sicily after her brother had died. After she’d told him she wanted him out of her life.
‘And that’s where the wedding is. But we’re going to be staying on your boat, yes?’
‘It’s a yacht.’
‘Same thing.’
‘Not exactly,’ Silvio said huskily, his eyes dropping to her mouth and lingering there. ‘But, yes, we’re going to be staying aboard my yacht.’
‘So the good thing about a boat—sorry, yacht—is that you can move around. If you’re tired of Sicily, you can sail off somewhere else.’
‘Exactly.’
Curious, she gave a little shrug. ‘So now that you own your own company and you have all that flashy stuff—what is there left to dream about?’
‘Life isn’t all about possessions, Jess.’
‘Easy to say when you have them. What about marriage? Don’t you want that?’
‘You mean because most men with my wealth should have at least one extremely expensive divorce behind them? I’ve never felt compelled to go down that route.’ Amusement shimmering in his dark eyes, Silvio dragged his gaze from her lips and glanced out of the window. ‘We’ve arrived.’
Why was it that whenever the subject touched on anything personal, he changed the subject? ‘How can we have arrived? There’s no airport—’ Distracted, Jessie looked out of the window and saw a pretty fishing village beneath her. Pastelcoloured houses festooned with flowers followed the curve of the harbour and yachts floated quietly on the clear blue water, their gleaming paintwork sparkling in the bright Mediterranean sunshine. Behind the village she could see mountains and several small churches tucked into the hillside.
A billionaire’s playground, Jessie thought wistfully, looking around for a landing strip of some sort. ‘Where are we—?’ The question died in her throat as she looked down and saw a landing pad directly beneath them.
‘We’re landing on a boat,’ she said faintly, and heard Silvio sigh.
‘Yacht,’ he said with exaggerated patience. ‘It’s a yacht.’
Her head turned slowly and her mouth fell open. ‘We’re supposed to be landing on a yacht? Won’t that sink it?’ She sensed that he was trying not to smile.
‘I sincerely hope not or I’ll have nowhere to hold my champagne reception.’
Jessie gaped at him. ‘Is that your yacht? But it’s huge. When you said a yacht, I presumed you meant something…different.’ Something small. She felt as foolish as she’d felt back in his apartment when she’d realised that the room she had been lying in had been his bedroom, not a hotel room.
Feeling out of her depth and insecure, she sat in frozen silence as the helicopter settled onto the deck as lightly as a bird.
A thousand ways to embarrass yourself.
‘We’re here, Jess.’ Apparently oblivious to the range of emotions that held her pinned to the seat, Silvio rose to his feet and held out his hand to her. He was lean, tall, and so obviously out of her league that her stomach lurched.
That was what all the financial generosity had been about.
He hadn’t been buying his way out of his guilt.
He’d been trying to turn her into someone he wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with.
Ignoring his hand, Jessie picked up her bag and stood up with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘Any other surprises for me? Am I going to be wearing the crown jewels with my dress tonight?’ Seeing two uniformed crew standing on the deck waiting to greet them, her nerve faltered. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t fly me in separately so that you don’t have to be seen with me.’
‘Jessie, relax.’
‘Easy for you to say. You’re the guy who commutes by helicopter.’
‘So do you.’ Unperturbed by her sudden attack of panic, he took her hand and drew her towards the steps. ‘Don’t be self-conscious. No one is judging you.’
‘Everyone is judging me,’ she muttered, too intimidated to even smile at the crew. ‘That’s what people do. They’re looking at me. They’re wondering what you’re doing with me.’
‘You look fine.’
It was the word he always used. Not sexy, or beautiful or alluring.
Just ‘fine’.
She was willing to bet that the women he usually mixed with looked better than ‘fine’. It was all too easy to imagine the crew whispering to each other, wondering whether their boss had gone mad.
Jessie glanced down at the beautiful wooden deck and then at the sleek design of the yacht. She didn’t fit here, did she? It was all alien to her—he had the super-car, the super-apartment, the super-yacht—the woman he needed on his arm was a supermodel. Not her.
And obviously he knew that, which was why he’d bought her the clothes.
He must be seriously regretting whatever impulse had driven him to rescue her.
He was probably worrying about what hideous faux pas she was going to commit at the champagne reception.
So was she…
Jessie lifted her chin, but nerves fluttered around her stomach. What if no one talked to her? Or maybe, if people thought she was his woman, they’d be scrambling to talk to her just to get close to him. And that scenario would come with its own problems because she had no idea what she was supposed to say about their relationship. They hadn’t concocted a story, had they? Where were they supposed to have met? Who exactly was she supposed to be?
Presumably not a penniless nightclub singer in hiding from an unsavoury group of men who wanted to kill her. Imagining the response to that conversation over the canapés, Jessie realised that she didn’t have any small talk. What did women talk about at these events? Shoes? Lipstick?
Her lipstick came from the supermarket and she didn’t think it would make for an interesting exchange.
Feeling sicker and sicker, she dragged h
er hand from his grip and stopped walking. ‘Wait a moment. Silvio, about tonight—’
‘Stop worrying about tonight. Just be yourself.’ Clearly unwilling to dwell on the topic, he urged her away from the helicopter and across the deck towards a flight of steps.
Jessie stared at his profile with exasperation.
Be herself?
Surely that was the last thing he wanted.
Being herself would be the equivalent of committing social suicide.
To stand any chance of surviving a champagne reception on board a super-yacht, she had to be someone else.
Someone confident, poised and most of all glamorous.
Someone who could realistically be seen with a man of Silvio’s wealth and status.
Jessie’s anxiety trebled as she took in the unparalleled luxury and understated elegance of her surroundings. The more she saw, the more intimidated she felt.
She didn’t fit in here and she never would.
And then she remembered her wardrobe full of new clothes. Expensive, stylish clothes, all worthy of the woman he wanted her to be.
Couldn’t she be that woman?
Frowning slightly, she promised herself that she was going to transform herself and give him a shock.
Tonight, when she dressed for the champagne reception, she wasn’t going to be Jessie from the back streets, or Jessie with the gold dress. She was going to dress like someone who dated a billionaire, and when she walked out on the upper deck—or whatever they called the bit of the yacht she was currently standing on—she was going to get more than a ‘fine’ from him.
As darkness fell and the yacht was illuminated by tiny lights, Silvio greeted the first of his guests. Conscious that there was no sign of Jessie, he glanced around impatiently, his tension mounting with each passing minute.
One glance at her frozen features as she’d stepped from the helicopter onto the deck had been enough to remind him that the tension between them hadn’t gone away. She still blamed him for what had happened to her brother and it was obvious that she found the chemistry between them as inconvenient and disturbing as he did.
