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

by Annie West

  ‘I’ve discovered I adore being ravished in the foyer.’ His fingers touched her chin, tilting it towards him. ‘And it was a mutual ravishment, Ella.’

  Did he say that to make her feel better? It didn’t.

  She’d known from the first that he was Trouble with a capital T. She just hadn’t reckoned on her own body betraying her. In twenty-six years it had never done so before. Sex, in her admittedly limited experience, had been carefully planned, horizontal and...nice. Not a blaze of out-of-control libidos.

  Something flared in Donato’s eyes and she just knew he was thinking about it too. Sex. The scent of it hung in the air and, despite her lassitude mere minutes ago, Ella’s body was ripe and ready for him again.

  She shifted back on the sideboard, yanking her chin from his touch.

  ‘I need to get dressed.’

  For an answer his hand slid slowly up her thigh, creating waves of tingling pleasure. ‘No need for that. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.’ His eyes had that heavy-lidded look that made her pulse race. His voice had dropped to a low burr of temptation.

  Insidious longing filled Ella and she slapped her hand on his to stop him reaching up under her top. She didn’t trust herself to resist if he touched her there.

  ‘No!’ She breathed deep. ‘I want to get dressed.’

  His fingers splayed wide on her thighs, curling around them, sending awareness rippling through her. The tension in her belly notched higher.

  ‘This isn’t over, Ella.’ His head lowered towards hers, his breath hazing her lips. ‘Don’t pretend it is.’

  Was that a threat or a promise? It stiffened her spine, giving her the strength to shove him back with the flat of her hand. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t move, then his fingers trailed down her thighs and away as he took a pace back.

  Ella shimmied to the edge of the sideboard and onto the floor. Her knees wobbled for a perilous moment but she forced herself to stand tall. Just as if she paraded half naked before men on a regular basis.

  ‘Don’t hide from the truth, Ella. Amazing as it was, that barely touched the surface, for either of us.’ His swift, all-encompassing survey left her blood singing.

  Looking him in the face was far harder than facing her stressed manager in a foul mood, or her father in full flight. ‘I’d prefer to have this conversation with my clothes on. You have the advantage over me there.’

  The slow curve of his lips did devastating things to her and the devilish glint in his eyes was even worse. She sank back against the sideboard, needing support.

  ‘You want me naked?’ His hand went to the top button of his shirt and Ella swallowed hard. Of course she wanted him naked. He was right. She hadn’t had nearly enough of him.

  ‘I want my clothes.’ Her voice was too strident but it was the best she could do. Dragging her gaze from his to the discarded heap of fabric on the floor, she moved forward.

  ‘If you must.’ Before she could get there Donato had scooped up not only her trousers, but her cotton undies too. They dangled from his fingers—plain and ordinary, just like her. She’d challenged herself this morning not to dig out her sexy lace knickers and bra, bought on a whim and worn once. To do so would have been an admission that she fancied him. That she wanted him to think of her as alluring. Well, the laugh was on her. Instead of black lace, he had his hands on beige cotton.

  Ella met his eyes and refused to blush. She held out her hand.

  ‘They’re still warm from your body.’ Just like that he cut her off at the knees, swiping away the last tatters of her hard-won dignity. He sounded pleased. He didn’t sound like a man taking no for an answer.

  She grabbed them from him and, following the direction he gestured, strode across the marble floor to the sanctuary of a bathroom.

  * * *

  Donato watched her stride across to the cloakroom, enjoying every step. He shifted, erect just at the sight of those beautiful long legs and the tantalising glimpses of her pale bare backside as her long top swayed from side to side. Her head was up and her shoulders back as if she owned the world. Such a contrast to the blushing woman who’d found it hard to meet his eyes a minute before.

  Ella Sanderson was a conundrum. She was the hottest woman he’d ever had. Just talking to her turned him on. And she was so passionate. Yet there was a reserve about her, and there’d been no mistaking the shock in her eyes at what they’d done.

  He ploughed his hand back through his hair. He was shocked too. Not because they’d had sex. That had been inevitable. But that it had been so earth-shattering. And that it left him needy, desperate to have her again.

  There was something else about Ella too. A hint of vulnerability despite her sassy mouth. In fact that mouth of hers deserved close study over a long period. It gave her away, he realised. Any man could see it was the mouth of a temptress. But it trembled just a little when she was unsure of herself. And she had been unsure.

  More than once that suggestion of a tremor had made him stop and rethink. He’d bet Ella would hate that, if she knew.

  She challenged him more effectively than anyone he knew. He loved sparring with her, waiting to see what she came out with. She was a delight. That moment when she’d stood there, half naked, gnawing her lip and patently regretting what they’d done, Ella had still had the sass to imply she’d been the sexual aggressor.

  As if he hadn’t been the one forcing her to confront her own desire!

  Donato’s lips quirked. Had she worn that ugly underwear to keep him at bay? He found himself curious to see what her bra was like. She had a voluptuous body, no matter how she tried to hide it with that shapeless top. Her rounded hips were made to entice a man. She was slim and lithe but she had the sort of curves that made a man glad he was male. He looked forward to having her naked in his bed.

  There was a click and the door opened. She stepped out, fully dressed and in control. The wanton woman hidden beneath her shapeless top; even her hair was yanked back in a ponytail. But the skylight above allowed diffused sunlight to catch the tones of honey and caramel in her soft brown hair. Her chin was up, ready for confrontation, and Donato stepped forward, his pulse quickening.

  This time she met his gaze head-on. Instantly he felt that crackle, as electricity splintered the air.

  It took him a moment to realise her eyes were once more that intriguing shade of blue-grey. For a few moments, when she’d shattered around him, her eyes had been pure molten silver.

  Donato began calculating how long it would be before he saw that precious shimmer again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THEY SAT AT a glass-topped table on the shady pool terrace. Ella didn’t know whether it was the luxury of her deeply upholstered chair, the glass of chilled Semillon Donato had poured or his air of ease but, remarkably, she began to relax.

  Almost as if that hectic interlude in the foyer had never happened.

  No, not that. She was hyper-aware of him—every move, every look. The shimmering excitement in her belly had eased a little, but not vanished.

  Yet something had shifted. The challenge was no longer overt but overlaid with what felt curiously like understanding. Or a truce.

  There’d been no provocative comments since she emerged from the bathroom. No double entendres. No confrontation and definitely no smirking from Donato.

  He’d ushered her out here, chatting easily as if they hadn’t just imploded in each other’s arms. Maybe that should have insulted her, but Ella was relieved, feeling some of her jittery tension drain away.

  She’d settled at the table, relieved to be off her unsteady legs, and watched him uncover a feast. The sort that took hours, and professional chefs, to prepare.

  She should be critically analysing every nuance of the situation, working out how to counter the threat Donato posed.

&nb
sp; It was a measure of the strangeness of the day, and of his easy charm, that Ella simply gave in to hunger and ate.

  The food was delicious. There were tiny melt-in-the-mouth lobster patties, crispbread bites with prawns and aioli, a colourful salad decorated with fresh mango, and an array of other delicacies.

  Had Donato snapped his fingers and ordered a banquet? Did he offer such feasts to all the women he seduced?

  Her breath shortened. He hadn’t needed to seduce anyone today, had he? She’d been primed and ready for him.

  He refilled their glasses and Ella’s gaze fixed on his well-shaped hands and sinewy forearms, strong and dusted with dark hair. He was so blatantly enticing. Something dropped hard in her belly.

  Fantastic sex as an antidote to life’s problems? If only it were that simple.

  ‘Are we going to talk about it?’ She pushed her plate away. ‘Or are we going to ignore the elephant in the room?’

  A long dimple carved Donato’s cheek and a chord in her chest tweaked hard. So much for burning off the passion he’d aroused. Instead her susceptibility had increased.

  Ella blinked, stunned but somehow not surprised. She’d never been into casual sex. And for her there’d been nothing casual about today, though she wouldn’t examine just what that meant.

  ‘You think of sex as an elephant?’ he murmured.

  Her lips twitched despite her resolve.

  ‘Don’t be obtuse.’ She reached for her glass and took a sip. The crisp wine was delicious against her suddenly dry throat. ‘We’ve resolved nothing. I—’

  ‘Of course we have.’ His smile grew and he gave her that look. The one that made her feel as if she didn’t know her own body any more. ‘We’ve confirmed that you and I are every bit as good together as we’d assumed.’

  His eyes didn’t leave her face but heat licked her in all sorts of hidden places. He lifted his glass in silent salute and drank. Ella was left wondering how the sight of that tanned throat working as he swallowed could create a squall of such hectic need in her.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Don’t play coy, Ella. You wondered right from the start how we’d be together.’

  Ella firmed her lips. ‘Don’t try to distract me, Donato. It won’t work.’

  The glint in his dark eyes and the quizzically raised eyebrow told her he disagreed. She put her glass down with a click and sat straighter.

  ‘You said this morning you still want this marriage.’ She couldn’t bring herself to say marry me. It was just too far-fetched. ‘Why? There’s nothing you’d gain by it.’

  His raised eyebrow shot even higher.

  Ella put up her hand. ‘We’ve already demonstrated you don’t need marriage for sex.’

  Would he make a quip about that? She’d laid herself open to it. But no, he merely sipped his wine.

  ‘How about an introduction to Sydney society?’ He tilted his head to one side as if sharing a confidence. She didn’t believe it.

  ‘You hardly need that.’

  ‘Don’t I?’ He leaned back further, lounging casually as if they discussed nothing more important than the ship passing far out to sea, or the rainbow lorikeets clustering in the ancient Port Jackson fig tree at the bottom of the garden.

  Ella wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him till he lost that complacent look. Or kiss him. She shoved the thought aside. She was already in enough strife.

  ‘Of course not. You’ve got the money and influence to open any door.’ Just look at this house. Whether he owned or rented it, it cost a bomb.

  ‘But you know I also have a criminal record. I served time in juvenile detention, then prison.’ Did she imagine his mouth thinned on the words? Though his expression remained unreadable, his face looked somehow more severe.

  ‘So?’

  ‘It hasn’t occurred to you that someone with my background might find doors still closed to him? That some people are uncomfortable mixing with an ex-con? A dangerous ex-con.’

  Dangerous. There was that word again.

  Yet would a truly dangerous man have treated her as he had?

  She’d disintegrated at his touch, thrown herself at him, behaved with a reckless carnality that even now took her breath away. Yet not once had he tried to force her, though it was obvious he wielded power as easily as she did a thermometer. Though he’d challenged her from the moment they’d met, she’d never relinquished the right to choose. If anything, he’d emphasised that, leaving it to her to bridge the gap between them.

  Nor had he made her feel cheap. He’d reminded her it had been a mutual seduction.

  Ella thought of Donato’s hand at her back as she’d walked out here on legs that threatened to give way, how he’d given her time to come back to herself after their tumultuous lovemaking.

  Donato Salazar, ruthless tycoon, the man who held her father in the palm of his hand, had been kind.

  And not because he wanted something. She’d already given him what he wanted back in the foyer, with her legs around his waist and her hands clutching him close.

  He was far more than the dangerous predator she’d first imagined.

  Ella remembered something she’d read on the Net last night. About how there’d been virtually no turnover in his personal staff, about the loyalty he inspired. She’d assumed he paid well. Now she wondered if it was more complex, more to do with the man himself.

  Ella stared, mesmerised by the hint of tension in Donato’s shoulders.

  Was it true? Were there really doors still barred to him?

  She couldn’t believe he let the opinions of others matter. There was something so sure about him, so adamantine.

  ‘You’re saying you want to marry into my family to gain respectability?’ She frowned. Her father had been part of elite Sydney society for years but his position had slipped. There were some who disapproved of him and his flashy ways.

  ‘Is that so unbelievable?’

  ‘Frankly? Yes.’

  He said nothing. Impatience rose.

  ‘So you’re not going to tell me what’s going on?’

  Eyes the colour of twilight held hers. Their colour seemed to darken as she watched. It must be a trick of the light. But there was no mistaking the subtle change in his expression. It grew shuttered.

  Moments ago she’d flirted with the idea Donato wasn’t nearly as scary as imagination had painted him. That illusion vanished now. He looked as unsentimental as the worst corporate raider.

  Except there was more. Ella felt again the heat of his possession. That current of electricity. That connection. She couldn’t believe, after a lifetime dealing with her self-serving, merciless father, that she’d respond this way to a man who was just the same. Her sixth sense told her there was a lot more to Donato.

  Briskly she rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to smooth her prickling flesh.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me the truth? Why insist on this farce of a marriage?’ Her voice rose as disappointment vied with frustration. Had she really hoped things had changed because they’d been intimate?

  Heat streaked Ella’s cheeks and she turned, staring across the lush garden to the sea beyond. She wasn’t used to these games. She wasn’t used to casual sex and its aftermath. Donato had provoked her and she’d let anger and desire lead her out of her depth.

  She should be home now, washing clothes for work next week. Or scouting the sales and second-hand furniture stores for another lost treasure to restore.

  Donato leaned forward and involuntarily her gaze slewed to his. Something kicked in her chest as the air thickened.

  It’s too late. The damage is done. You can’t turn back the clock. He fascinates you and you still want him.

  Ella reached for her wine glass then let her hand drop. It wasn’t alcohol she needed
. Her head was fuzzy enough without it.

  ‘The truth is rarely simple, cariño. And not always desirable.’

  Was it the unexpected lilting endearment that caught at Ella’s throat? Or the expression on Donato’s face? That fleeting hint of emotion stilled Ella’s heart. She stared, wondering if she’d imagined it. But there’d been no mistaking the stark pain she’d glimpsed. It stunned her.

  ‘You want the truth?’ He shook his head, muttering something that might be Spanish. It had those fluid cadences. Then he sat forward, his elbows on his knees as he filled her personal space. ‘The truth is—I want this wedding your father is planning.’

  She should have been insulted. Despite their sexual attraction, he didn’t want marriage for the sake of marrying her. He’d been just as willing to marry Fuzz. Instead Ella was intrigued. There was something there. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, that would explain everything if only she understood.

  He wanted the wedding.

  Not her, but the wedding.

  Ella frowned, testing the notion that Donato would marry a stranger, a total stranger, just to secure a place in society. It didn’t make sense.

  ‘Stop scowling, Ella. You’ll give yourself a headache.’

  ‘You don’t think the idea of being forced into marriage is enough to make my head hurt?’ She couldn’t believe he’d do it. It was too preposterous.

  To Ella’s surprise, Donato reached out and took her hand, clasping it loosely. ‘It will be all right.’ His voice was low and reassuring, like a wave of soft warmth. ‘All you need to know is that while the wedding plans go ahead so does my support for your father.’

  For a heady moment she wanted to sink against him, trust that it really would be all right. But how could that be?

  ‘Except you’re threatening him.’ And, as a result, the rest of her family.

  ‘You care so much about his money? You’re dependent on it?’

  Her eyebrows arched. She hadn’t been dependent on Reg Sanderson’s money since the day she turned seventeen and walked out of the door to pursue her own life. It didn’t matter that her dreams were mundane by her father’s standards. Becoming a nurse, doing something concrete and practical to help people. Being financially independent. Choosing her own friends. All those things had been important milestones.