Seducing His Enemy's Daughter: Christmas at the Castello (bonus novella)

by Annie West

  ‘Tell me—’ he leaned in and Ella caught an enticing hint of coffee and warm male skin ‘—since you’re interested in the weather. Do you think we can expect a summer storm later? Lightning and thunder, perhaps?’

  Ella looked from her father, his expression icy with warning, to the clear sky, then back to Donato Salazar with his glinting, unreadable eyes. He knew how her father was sweating on this meeting and he didn’t give a damn. Ella was torn between admiration and anger.

  ‘Anything is possible, given the right atmospheric conditions.’

  He nodded. ‘I find the prospect surprisingly...invigorating.’ He didn’t move but suddenly he seemed to loom closer, towering over her despite her borrowed heels. The air around her seemed to snap and tighten. Or was that her nerves?

  Ella told herself that squiggle of response deep inside was because, at five feet ten, she wasn’t used to men dwarfing her. It had nothing to do with the idea of this dark, challenging, vibrant man being invigorated.

  The image that word conjured made her catch her breath. Since when had her imagination been so flagrantly erotic?

  She had an awful suspicion he read her thoughts. Heat seeped under her skin, spread across her chest and up her throat.

  Maybe she’d been working with elderly patients too long. How long since she’d been close to a virile man in his prime? One whose gaze challenged her not to react to him, even as she felt that telltale melting at her core.

  ‘Tell me more,’ he murmured, his voice like dark, rich syrup. ‘What atmospheric conditions would lead to electricity in the air?’

  He was toying with her.

  He’d sensed her instantaneous, deeply feminine response to him—that tremor in her belly, that lush softening, and it amused him. His face was as close to bland as such a strong, remarkable face could be. Yet she knew. Something she couldn’t name connected them.

  ‘I have no idea,’ she snapped. ‘I’m no meteorologist.’

  ‘You disappoint me.’ His words were silky, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her as if she were some curious specimen. ‘Most people I meet like to talk about things they know well.’

  ‘To show off their knowledge, you mean?’

  He shrugged. The implication was clear. People tried to attract his attention. Her father was about to do it, clearing his throat ready to interrupt this conversation that wasn’t going as he’d planned.

  ‘You think I should try to impress you?’ Stupid question. This man could make or break her father and, by association, her siblings. She might not need to impress him but common sense dictated she shouldn’t antagonise him either.

  Yet it was antagonism she felt, swirling in her blood. That and attraction. And something like fear. It was a dangerous combination.

  ‘I can tell you—’ she spoke as her father opened his mouth ‘—that our weather often comes from the south.’

  ‘From the direction of Melbourne, you mean?’ Donato’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Precisely.’ She angled her chin higher, refusing to look away from that intent stare. ‘So if there’s an abrupt change in the atmosphere from the south, a big blustery wind, for instance. Or a sudden influx of hot air...’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows what bad weather might result?’

  ‘Ella—’ Her father’s voice promised retribution but was drowned by a sharp crack of laughter.

  It reverberated around her, deep and appealing. Ella’s skin prickled and shivered as if in response to the elemental rumble of thunder.

  Donato Salazar had a surprisingly attractive laugh for a man who looked like he could play the Prince of Darkness with no effort at all. The trouble was laughter, the humour in his eyes and that unlooked-for smile turned him into someone far more approachable.

  Her fingers tingled. She wanted—so badly she wanted—to cup his face and discover how that sharply defined jaw, that rich olive skin felt beneath her hand.

  Ella swung her hands behind her back, clasping them tight together like a schoolgirl.

  She shivered. Her response to this man was anything but childish. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her mouth sagging till she realised and snapped it shut. And that melting sensation had spread. Between her legs felt soft like warm butter.

  Horror filled her and she stumbled back, only stopping when his laughter cut off and his gaze meshed with hers.

  There it was again. That certainty he knew what she felt. The realisation should have mortified her. Instead it felt almost...liberating.

  Ella blinked. Her imagination was working overtime. Lack of food had made her woolly-headed.

  She did not turn into a puddle of pure lust after five minutes’ acquaintance with any man.

  She did not have some psychic connection with this stranger.

  ‘I apologise for my daughter.’ Her father skewered her with a glacial look. ‘She—’

  ‘There is no need to apologise.’ Still Donato didn’t shift his gaze from her. That steady look was unnerving. ‘Your daughter is charming.’

  ‘Charming?’ Reg spluttered before quickly gathering himself. ‘Of course, yes. She’s certainly unusual.’

  Ella might have felt grim amusement at her father’s description of his cuckoo-in-the-nest daughter if she weren’t so flabbergasted.

  Charming?

  Never in her life had she been described that way. But never had she set out to be deliberately rude either.

  It was a night of firsts. Her father needing her. Her visceral response to this tall, dark, enigmatic stranger.

  If there were going to be many more surprises maybe she should grab a drink to steady her nerves.

  ‘You must be proud of such an intelligent, forthright daughter.’

  Ella froze in the act of scanning the landscaped terraces for a waiter.

  ‘Proud? Yes, yes, of course I am.’ Her father needed to improve his acting skills. He was usually an expert liar but Ella had never seen him so ill at ease. So desperate.

  ‘And pretty too.’

  Ella swung her head round to meet that probing gaze.

  This had gone far enough. She’d done her best, rifling her sister’s abandoned wardrobe to find something suitable. She wouldn’t face a crowd of glittering socialites in work clothes and rubber-soled lace-up shoes. But she had no illusions. Fuzz was the one who turned heads. Never Ella.

  ‘There’s no need to butter me up. And I prefer not to be talked about as if I’m not here.’

  ‘Ella!’ Her father looked like he might have a stroke. His colour was too high and his pale eyes bulged before narrowing to needle-sharp fury. He really did need to change his lifestyle if he was going to make it into old age. As if he’d listen to her!

  ‘My apologies, Ella.’ That low velvety voice made her shiver. ‘No insult was intended.’

  ‘It’s not you who should apologise, Donato.’ Her father closed in, his grip biting her arm. ‘I think—’

  ‘I think,’ Donato interrupted smoothly, ‘it’s time you left the pair of us to get better acquainted.’

  For an instant her father stared. Usually he was smooth as oil, charming and quick with a comeback. Seeing him so patently at a loss was a new experience. Once it would have delighted Ella. Now a chill clamped her spine.

  Who was this man with the power to frighten him so?

  ‘Of course, of course.’ Her father pasted on a toothy smile. ‘You two need to get better acquainted. I’ll let you do just that.’ With one last warning pinch of her arm he released her and sauntered off as if he hadn’t a care.

  Ella watched him go. Ridiculously, she wanted to call him back. As if she hadn’t spent most of her life avoiding him. As if he were the sort of father to protect her.

  For the absolute conviction stiffening her sinews warned she really did need protection.

  Ab
ruptly she swung around, her gaze lifting until—there it was again—that jangle across her senses, that taut feeling of suspense as her gaze locked with Donato Salazar’s.

  His mouth tipped up in a smile that tugged at her heart, dragging it hard against her ribs, making it thrash like a landed fish. Her breath quickened as everything in her that was female responded to his ultra-male charisma.

  Yet his eyes showed no softening. That stare probed her very being and found her wanting.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DONATO LOOKED DOWN into those clear eyes and felt the impact like the ripple of a stone plunging into deep, still water.

  They weren’t ordinary eyes. Oh, no, not Ms Ella Sanderson’s. He’d yet to discover anything ordinary about her. He’d come here expecting her father’s daughter and instead found...

  What, exactly?

  He didn’t know yet but he intended to find out.

  He disliked being caught out.

  Years ago, in prison, being caught off guard could have cost his life. It had almost cost him an eye. He’d made it his life’s work to be in control, the one pulling the strings, never again reacting to forces he couldn’t handle.

  It had been a long time since anyone took him by surprise. He didn’t like it.

  Even though he liked what he saw. Too much.

  Those eyes, for a start. Mercurial. Some indefinable shade between blue and grey that turned to silvery hoar frost when he riled her. He’d felt her disapproval like the jab from a shard of ice, straight to his belly.

  Yet his overwhelming response was to wonder how her eyes would look when rapture overtook her. With him buried deep inside, feeling her shudder around him.

  Was it any wonder he felt annoyed? She’d hijacked his thoughts, momentarily interfering with his plans.

  She wasn’t what he’d expected, or wanted. No man wanted that sudden sensation that he was no longer master of his destiny. That perfidious fate still had a few nasty surprises in store.

  Fate be damned. Donato had stopped being its victim years ago.

  ‘Alone at last,’ he murmured, watching her mouth tighten.

  So, she didn’t like this thing sparking and snarling between them either. But as well as her caution and disapproval he sensed puzzlement. As if she didn’t recognise the syrupy thickening of the atmosphere for what it was—carnal attraction.

  Instant. Absolute. Undeniable.

  ‘There’s no need for us to be alone. Your business is with my father.’ Her jaw angled belligerently.

  Donato felt a quickening in his belly.

  How long since a woman had reacted to him like that? Not with disdain because of his origins, but defiantly. The last few years had been littered with women eager to grab what they could—sex, money, status, even the thrill of being with a man with his dark reputation. How long since a woman he wanted had been difficult to attain?

  For he found he wanted Ms Ella Sanderson with a primal hunger that would probably shock her. It disturbed him and he’d thought himself unshockable.

  ‘But tonight is about socialising. This is a party, Ella.’ He slowed on her name, enjoying the taste of it almost as much as he enjoyed the flicker of response in those bright eyes.

  Oh, yes. Ms Sanderson wanted him as much as he did her. The way she swiped her lips with the tip of her tongue. The telltale tremble of the diamond drop earrings beside her slender throat. The way her eyelids drooped as if anticipating sexual pleasure. The quick rise of her lovely breasts against the azure satin of that tight dress.

  Her nipples pebbled, thrusting towards him. It was all he could do not to reach out and anchor his palms against her breasts. He wanted their weight in his hands. He wanted more than he could take here, on one of the terraces leading down to the harbour from her father’s mansion.

  Donato shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and saw her eyes narrow to slits as if daring him to stare at her body.

  ‘Do I disturb you, Ella?’

  If she didn’t want him to admire the view she should have worn something else, not a dress that clung to her curves like plastic wrap. In that at least she hadn’t surprised him. He’d expected Sanderson’s daughter to be like her father, show rather than substance. Till she’d turned to face him and he’d known with absolute certainty she was different.

  ‘Of course not.’ He liked her low, confident voice, so totally unlike the high-pitched giggles of the women by the pool, already shedding their inhibitions. ‘Are you in the habit of...disturbing people?’ Her tone wasn’t arch with flirtation but serious, as if trying to fathom him.

  That made two of them.

  He shrugged, noting the way her gaze darted to his shoulders. Had he ever met a woman so primed and physically aware of him?

  It made him want to take what he desired straight up, then worry about deciphering her later.

  He took a step closer and she stilled. Even her breath seemed to stop. Her nostrils dilated. Did she breathe in his scent just as he found himself discovering she smelled of...sweet peas? The perfume of an old-fashioned garden.

  Memory blindsided him. Of a garden in sunshine. Of his mother’s all too rare laugh and Jack’s patient tone as he taught them the difference between weeds and the precious vegetable seedlings.

  How long since he’d thought of that?

  It belonged in another lifetime.

  ‘Donato?’

  He stiffened, registering her hand, lifted as if reaching for him. Then it dropped to her side. He didn’t know if he felt relief or regret.

  He wanted to touch her, badly. But not here. Once they touched there would be no holding back.

  * * *

  ‘Some people find me disturbing.’

  It would be comforting to believe he had this impact on everyone. Yet to Ella her response seemed utterly personal, as if something linked the pair of them.

  ‘Why is that?’

  Those jet eyebrows shot up. What? Surely not everyone was bowled over by those dark, fallen-angel looks? There must be some, heterosexual men and the blind, who were unaffected.

  ‘What do you know about me?’

  She shrugged. ‘Just that my father wants to do business with you. Ergo you’re rich and powerful.’ She snapped her mouth shut before adding something uncomplimentary. She’d already shot her mouth off when she should have been smoothing the way for the news that her sister wouldn’t be playing happy families.

  It was remarkable how he’d provoked her into lashing out. Her profession required discretion.

  ‘I know you’re from Melbourne, visiting Sydney for a major project.’

  ‘That’s all?’ His look penetrated, as if peering past the gloss of her sister’s clothes and jewellery to the plain, no-frills woman beneath. Her traitorous body heated and she had to lock her knees.

  ‘That’s all.’ She’d had no time for an Internet search. She’d barely had time after meeting her father to find suitable clothes to wear.

  ‘You take so little interest in your father’s business?’

  ‘Yes.’ She didn’t elaborate. What her father did was no longer any concern of hers. Except when it threatened Rob and Fuzz. ‘That is—’

  His raised hand silenced her. ‘Don’t explain. It’s refreshing to meet someone honest enough to admit they’re only interested in money, rather than how it’s made.’

  ‘You’ve got me wrong.’ He made her sound like a leech.

  ‘Have I? How?’

  Belatedly she shook her head, caution stirring. ‘Never mind. It’s not relevant.’

  They’d never meet again. It was a sign of weakness to worry about what he thought of her. Besides, she baulked at Donato Salazar knowing anything about her. Knowledge was power and he looked the sort to wield his power mercilessly.

  ‘An
d what is relevant?’

  ‘The reason you’re here tonight. Felicity.’

  ‘I came here expecting to meet her.’ His gaze drifted over the crowd on the upper terraces.

  ‘She’s unavailable. She couldn’t be here.’

  ‘So your father mentioned.’

  Ella wondered what else her father had said. She’d bet her whole savings account he hadn’t admitted Fuzz had done a runner to north Queensland rather than face this man.

  The idea of Fuzz anywhere without cold champagne on tap, working spa baths and an adoring audience was unbelievable. Yet Rob said they were camped in a couple of rooms at the old motel, making do with a primus stove and cold showers while the renovations were underway.

  For the first time Fuzz was in love. Matthew, Rob’s friend, now business partner, was decent, honest and hard-working, a rarity in her family’s social circle. It gave Ella hope that Fuzz had fallen for him rather than the smarmy powerbrokers she’d dated before. Matthew’s decision to turn the rundown motel he’d inherited into an upmarket resort had been the catalyst Rob and Fuzz needed to break from Sydney and their father.

  ‘So you’re standing in for your sister.’ Donato’s dark voice trawled like pure alcohol in Ella’s veins, making her blood tingle. ‘What could be more pleasant?’

  His expression changed, lines deepening, gaze piercing. He looked...predatory.

  Instantly heat bloomed.

  ‘Not in the way you think!’ Ella blurted.

  ‘You know my thoughts?’ Again that rise of slashing ebony eyebrows. It made him look like a haughty Spanish grandee of old.

  ‘Of course not.’ How did he throw her off balance so easily? She’d spent years learning to keep her thoughts to herself and her emotions under control. She always had both feet on the ground.

  Yet around Donato Salazar she felt different.

  He looked intent and assessing and his stare sent anxiety spidering across her flesh, drawing it tight. Ella wasn’t used to such close masculine attention. Not from men like him. She felt out of her depth and that made her bristle. She decided to change the subject.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself tonight. My father’s parties are renowned.’