by Annie West
‘Okay. I should get back to this painting. I promised Matthew I’d finish this room today. But remember, if you need me, I can be there in a day.’
Fuzz, painting? When would wonders cease?
Ella pressed her lips together as she ended the call. She felt wobbly. Because of her sister’s concern. Because of her offer to come back. Because Ella had felt a bond with Fuzz she hadn’t experienced in years. With Rob, yes, but not with her sister. Ella had always lived in the shade cast by Fuzz’s bright personality. It had never occurred to her that Fuzz wanted to be like her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT?’
Donato stopped beside her and Ella had a disturbingly appealing view of powerful hands and muscled thighs in faded denim. She stood. Her sister’s revelations had thrown her and she needed time to digest them, consider how to get the rest of Rob’s money from their father.
But thinking clearly with Donato near was a big ask. Look what had happened at the theatre last night. He’d kissed her and she’d begun to believe...
‘Of course. Everything’s fine.’
One ebony eyebrow slanted up, reminding her of the superior way he’d regarded her that very first night. Before they’d become lovers.
A weight punched hard and low in her belly. Her conscience. She’d let him distract her from her purpose. She was supposed to be helping her siblings. Yet for weeks she’d been too busy discovering passion and pleasure with Donato. It was time she got back on track—faced down her father.
‘Something’s weighing on you.’
The gentle probing stiffened Ella’s shoulders. She’d grown so close to Donato, her instinct was to share her problems with him.
Yet he was part of the problem!
This farcical situation was doing her head in. Her father insisted he couldn’t repay the money till after the wedding. Meanwhile she was sleeping with Donato, not through coercion, but because she wanted him as she’d never wanted any man.
Ella rubbed her forehead. ‘I have things to sort out.’
‘Family things? To do with your brother?’ Donato moved closer, his gaze intent. ‘Something to do with money?’
Ella’s head reared back. He had heard.
Again she felt that impulse to spill her worries. But if she revealed her father had stolen from his own son that would stymie his business deal with Donato, for how could Donato trust such a man? And if the deal didn’t proceed, Rob wouldn’t get his money.
‘That was a private conversation.’
Donato’s face changed. From concern his expression hardened, setting in severe lines. The spark vanished from his gaze, replaced by a coolness she felt like a blast of arctic air. She hadn’t seen him look like that since the night they met.
‘You don’t trust me?’ The words were silky smooth so she must have imagined the hint of hurt in them. Donato didn’t do hurt. He was strong, always in control.
Ella breathed deep, torn between duty and desire.
And guilt. Last night he’d stood up for her and her heart had sung.
But she couldn’t tell him, not if she was to help her siblings. ‘You don’t tell me everything about your life. You guard yourself so no one can get really close. But do I get upset when you don’t let me in?’
He stepped near, engulfing her with his heat and his sheer presence. The delicious skin scent that was his alone filled her nostrils.
‘I don’t know? Do you?’ The deep cadence of his voice mesmerised her. She wanted—
Sucking in a sharp breath, she moved back.
He moved with her.
‘Do you, Ella? Is that what’s bothering you? Because I don’t share every tiny detail of my life? You want my secrets and my soul as well as my body and my money?’
At the unexpected insult hurt crested. Unbelievably Ella saw her hand rise with it.
Stunned, she felt juddering shock radiate through her as Donato caught her wrist centimetres from his face. She hadn’t even registered the intention to strike him.
He held her hand high, drawing her closer, and she planted her other palm on his chest for balance. Beneath her touch his heart tapped an even rhythm, only fractionally quicker than usual. Nothing, it seemed, fazed Donato. Meanwhile her heart slammed hard and fast. Her breath came in uneven gasps.
‘I don’t want your money,’ she whispered through clenched teeth. ‘You know that.’ How could he say that when last night he’d been so understanding, so wonderful? She’d never felt more lost and confused.
‘Are you sure?’ Eyes like the sea, fathoms deep and merciless, held hers.
Heat scored Ella’s cheeks. He was right. She wanted his funds to prop up her father’s business so Reg Sanderson could repay the money he’d stolen. She looked away, ashamed to be her father’s advocate. It went against the grain not to tell Donato the sort of man he did business with. By keeping quiet surely she was culpable?
‘Are you going to tell me, Ella?’
She shut her eyes against the temptation to spill everything, all her worries. But a lifetime’s hard-won lessons stiffened her spine. She shook her head.
‘You don’t trust me.’
Her eyes snapped open. Donato’s face had softened. That stark coldness was gone as he lowered their clasped hands. He looked disappointed rather than angry.
‘There are some things you can’t fix so easily.’
She thought of the donation Donato had made to the community centre her clients used. She’d mentioned its difficulty in getting funds to improve wheelchair access. The following day a donation had arrived, enough to upgrade the facilities and more. She’d traced the payment to Donato.
Then there was Binh, the gardener here. Ella had chatted with him about the beautiful landscaping and the flowers. He’d told her how, when his wife lost her job in a florist shop, Donato had given her an interest-free loan to start her own business when the banks wouldn’t take the risk.
Donato quietly set about helping people, solving their problems.
He couldn’t fix this.
‘I’m sorry.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I shouldn’t have lashed out. I don’t know what’s got into me.’
‘You’re upset.’
Ella shook her head. Why should her sister’s call upset her? They were closer than they’d been in years. And yet she did feel...off balance. Because they’d dredged the depths of their dysfunctional family, stirring emotions she’d tried to put a lid on for years.
‘Come on, Ella. Walk with me.’ To her surprise Donato tucked her hand in his arm, drawing her close. She went with him. Her emotions might be a jumbled mess but she was honest enough to know it was what she wanted.
They’d reached the clifftop when he spoke. ‘I shouldn’t have reacted like that when you refused to tell me your problems. I apologise. That crack about you wanting my money was low.’
Ella’s head snapped round. An apology? She’d been the one to take a swing at him! ‘I shouldn’t have lost my cool. I’m sorry. My behaviour was appalling. I just... I hate feeling I’m not in control.’
‘That’s how you feel?’ No anger in his eyes now. This was the Donato she’d grown close to, so close it was tough remembering all that stood between them.
‘I like to understand what’s going on and make my own decisions. With you, with us, it’s like I’m on a runaway train. It’s racing ahead but I don’t know where or why. All I can do is hold on and hope for the best.’ The words spilled out. Ella hadn’t meant to reveal so much. Yet increasingly she wanted to smash down all the barriers and...
What? Share everything with him? As if he wasn’t just a temporary lover? As if they weren’t on opposite sides because of her father’s machinations?
As if she and Donato could be...important to each other?
&n
bsp; ‘I understand. I used to hate feeling powerless. I was determined to take control of my life and shape it how I wanted.’
‘I can’t imagine you powerless.’ Donato was purposeful, definite. That had appealed from the first.
His laugh was short and hard. ‘You have no idea.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘But you want to know.’ His gaze was needle-sharp.
Ella nodded.
‘It’s not enough that we share our bodies and all our private time? That you know my politics and my taste in films and sport and anything else you want to talk about?’
Ella turned to brace her hands on the rock wall topping the cliff, searching for the right words. She shared more with Donato than she ever had with any man. Yet still she wanted...needed more.
‘You know my father,’ she said eventually. ‘Where I grew up. Plus I tell you about my work.’ Donato’s interest had amazed her and his concern for her safety had been genuine. He rang every day after her last appointment to check she was okay. ‘All I really know about your past is what I read in the press the night we met and the little you told me about Jack.’
His lips thinned. ‘You want the story behind the headlines?’ His tone was harsh, almost jeering, like his words just before she’d lashed out at him. What was it about his past that made him protect it so aggressively?
‘Is it a crime to want to know you better?’
She looked up into that proud, scarred, implacable face, sensing turmoil. Was it really too much to ask? She couldn’t shake the feeling that the real man remained hidden, despite the intimacies they shared.
‘Everyone who’s wanted to know more has only been after cheap thrills, mixing with the tame ex-con.’ The words lashed her.
‘I’m not everyone, Donato.’
Meeting his challenging stare, doubt assailed her. Was she wrong? Was she alone in thinking they shared something more than sex? Donato’s eyes had that horrible blank look and she knew he deliberately shut her out.
So...he’d confirmed it. She was just a sexual diversion. There was nothing profound about what they shared. She’d been misled by her own silly yearnings.
Her stomach swooped and she turned away.
‘Wait.’ He threaded his fingers through hers.
Ella stiffened. His power over her was scary. He just had to touch her. And Fuzz called her the practical one! If she had any sense she’d run, not walk away from this man.
‘I’m sorry, Ella.’ His hand tightened on hers and he laughed, the sound strained rather than amused. ‘There, two apologies in five minutes. I hope you realise that’s a record.’
Ella turned. Donato’s face was taut, his nostrils pinched and his mouth a harsh line that made something twist high in her chest. The sight of his pain did that to her. Her brain registered surprise that he let her read his feelings, but she was too caught up to think about that now. Impulsively she reached out, her palm cupping his jaw, sliding over his close-shaved chin.
Donato’s hand closed on hers, dragging it to his mouth. He kissed her palm and shivery sensations shot through her, making her tremble. The way he looked at her, the intensity of this connection, made her emotions well even higher.
‘What am I going to do about you, Ella?’ His voice was a low burr that furrowed through her insides.
She shook her head. ‘I wonder the same about you, Donato. I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you.’
‘That’s nothing new.’ His voice was harsh. ‘I’ve been trouble all my life.’ He smiled. ‘You, on the other hand, have always been a good girl.’
Ella’s chin jerked up. ‘How do you know?’
‘It’s not an insult, you know.’ Donato laughed. This time there was amusement in that dark-chocolate chuckle. ‘How do I know? Because you’re the Sanderson who works for a living instead of dabbling with other people’s money.’
‘My brother works.’
Donato shrugged. ‘That remains to be seen. He’s spent the last couple of years on your father’s payroll. Besides, you’re the one who’s here, holding the fort. You’re the one your father turned to. The one who’s made a career caring for people.’
‘That doesn’t make me a saint.’
‘Absolutely not. I’m not interested in saints.’ Donato trailed a finger from her jaw, down her throat to her breast. Instantly Ella’s breath stalled as her body softened, need rising.
It took far too long to break from his sensual spell and step away. Ella drew her hands from him so she could lean back against the clifftop wall.
‘You’re right. We need to talk.’ Yet his eyes held that slumberous blue heat that was like an invitation to sin. An invitation she’d never yet been able to resist.
Finally Donato moved to lean on the wall, his gaze on the horizon. Ella stared at his strong profile, still dazed by the upsurge of hormones jangling in her body.
‘You want to know about my past.’
‘I’m not after cheap thrills.’
‘I know. I shouldn’t have said that. I realised from the first you were different from other women.’
Different? How? Immediately part of her brain started cataloguing all the ways she didn’t measure up, with her less than svelte figure, her discomfort in society gatherings, her inability to charm—
Then Ella realised what she was doing. Fuzz was right. She’d listened to her father too much.
‘I want to know you, Donato, and I believe that means understanding some of your past. But if you don’t want to talk about it, I can respect that.’ She was getting to know Donato in other ways.
‘Didn’t I say you were different?’ But he didn’t look at her, just drew a deep breath. ‘I was born in inner city Melbourne. Our rooms were cramped and I played indoors or in back alleys. When I was tiny I always saw the sky in little slices between buildings. That’s given me a love of wide-open spaces.’
Ella nodded. He’d said as much before.
‘I lived with my mother. I never knew my father.’
‘That must have been hard.’ True, she’d have been happier without her father in her life, but that wasn’t the case for everyone.
There was so much tension in the bunched muscles of Donato’s shoulder and arm she almost reached out, but something held her back. Then he turned and the look in his eyes fixed her to the spot.
‘Harder than you can imagine. My mother was a prostitute. She had no idea who my father was and didn’t want to know.’
Ella blinked, shock blasting her.
‘Apparently by the time the brothel owners found out she was pregnant it was too late for a safe abortion. She’d hidden it as long as possible because, strange as it seems, she wanted to keep me.’ The shadow of a smile crossed his face. ‘She believed a baby was a blessing. That’s why she named me Donato—a gift. Luckily it turned out some of the punters liked pregnant woman so she got to keep me.’
‘Your mother told you that?’ Ella couldn’t keep the horror from her voice.
Donato shook his head. ‘I overheard her talking about it when I was older.’
Ella sagged against the waist-high wall. Was it her imagination or had he implied her mother might have been forced into an abortion otherwise?
‘When I was six Jack took us away from the city. He was a client of my mother’s and he fell in love with her, even agreed to take me on too. He smuggled us away and we lived with him for years in an old house with a vegetable garden out the back and a climbing tree at the front.’
Ella stared. ‘Your mother fell in love with him?’
Donato’s expression told her she was impossibly naïve. ‘He had a steady job and he was never violent. He cared for her and he was willing to accept me as well.’ He paused. ‘If you’d known our lives before you’d know how precious that was.’
Silently Ella nodded. As a nurse, she knew how tough life was for many. Yet, despite his time in prison, she’d never expected something like this was hiding in Donato’s past.
‘Did you like him?’
‘He protected my mother. And he gave us something like a normal life for years. I went to school, he worked and my mother cooked and cleaned. She smiled a lot too. Sometimes I even heard her sing.’ His expression softened. ‘She was beautiful, you know. Really beautiful. But life had worn her down. When we lived with Jack she blossomed.’
‘He sounds like a good man.’ At least Ella hoped he was.
Donato shrugged. ‘He had a short temper and an old-fashioned approach to discipline, but he never laid a hand on her.’ Something in his voice told Ella Donato would have put up with any amount of discipline if it meant keeping his mother happy.
‘He died when I was twelve and everything changed.’
‘What happened?’
‘He hadn’t left a will and his house went to a sister. My mother and I were out on the street and she took to prostitution again to support us. Social services found out and took me away.’ A muscle in his jaw spasmed. ‘I didn’t like being in care. I kept running away to find her. I didn’t last long in foster care. I got a reputation for being difficult.’
Ella tried to imagine Donato at twelve, parted from his mother for the first time. He was tenacious and strong and he obviously cared greatly for his mother. Of course he’d run away to look for her.
Her hand found his on the stone wall and he looked around, startled.
‘It’s too late for sympathy, Ella. I was a tough kid and it was a long time ago.’ Yet he didn’t move his hand.
‘Where is she now? In Melbourne?’ She’d bet one of the first things Donato had done when he became successful was provide for his mother.
‘She’s dead.’ The bald words stunned her.
‘Dead?’
He nodded. ‘Battered by a client.’ His voice dripped venom. ‘She died later of her injuries.’
‘Oh, Donato. I’m so sorry.’ Ella squeezed his hand. She remembered how lost she’d felt when her mother died. She couldn’t imagine the trauma of losing someone as a result of a violent crime. ‘How old were you?’
