by Annie West
‘I made it my mission to find those responsible for the trafficking ring.’ Once more Donato’s voice was matter-of-fact, his tone clipped. ‘It took years but eventually I narrowed it to two men. One had been under police investigation but died before he could be arrested. The other, your father, covered his tracks better. He was lucky too because several of the people who could testify against him died.’
‘You’re not saying—?’
‘That he killed them? I doubt he gave them a thought. He’d moved on to build his prestigious business empire long ago.’ Donato shook his head. ‘No, life expectancy in that milieu isn’t good. The final witness against him is an ex-prostitute, addicted to heroin. She’d be discredited in minutes in court. I’ve seen it before.’
Ella remembered that the case against the man who’d killed his mother had collapsed because of an unreliable witness.
‘But you’re sure?’ Even as she asked, Ella knew it was fruitless. Donato wasn’t the sort to leave anything to chance.
‘I’m sorry, Ella.’
His gaze was steady, hiding nothing. She read sympathy and pain, and wondered if it was for her or himself.
What did it matter? This damaged them both. She wanted to go upstairs and scrub herself clean. Her father’s actions tainted her.
‘I can show you the evidence, if you like. It’s been collected over years.’
‘No. Thank you.’ Ella didn’t want to read the statements. She knew, deep inside, that it was true. She could ask her father, of course. He might not even deny it, might try to brazen it out.
She’d understood for years that Reg Sanderson wasn’t a father to be proud of. What she knew of his business dealings didn’t impress her, and then there was Rob’s sudden decision not to work for him, and his absolute refusal to explain why. Ella knew he’d discovered something in their father’s schemes he couldn’t countenance.
‘Ella, are you okay?’
It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It hurt, when she looked at Donato, to see that, despite his concern, he still stood aloof, keeping distance between them.
The truth lay between them. It was dark and abhorrent and it explained everything. Why he’d approached her. A distraction for her father.
An instrument of revenge.
Ella’s breath seized as pain pierced her chest.
‘Ella!’ Donato moved towards her but she put her palm up.
‘Don’t,’ she croaked. ‘I’m fine.’
She was anything but. She doubted she’d be okay ever again. But she couldn’t bear for him to touch her.
Had Donato seduced her just to turn the screws tighter on her father? To make his revenge sweeter?
Call her a fool, but she couldn’t believe it. Donato was relentless and tough, but he wasn’t cruel. Their passion had been real. After the way Donato’s mother had been used by men, Ella couldn’t imagine him using sex as a weapon in his schemes.
But Ella had been a convenient pawn in his plot. He’d kept her onside so as not to spoil the charade of a wedding. She looked at the white flounces trembling around her feet.
Whatever they’d shared was over now.
He had no need for her any more.
As for a future for them—her breath snared. How could there be? She was his enemy’s daughter. That would always lie between them.
‘You look like you need a drink.’
Still Donato kept his distance but Ella read the hollow look in his eyes. That was what finally stiffened her resolve.
‘So do you.’
* * *
Donato shrugged. Facing Ella with the truth was every bit as bad as he’d feared. He couldn’t drag his eyes from her, half-sitting on the wide arm of the chair. Her eyes looked bruised and the bright dress she clamped to her breast only emphasised the pain drawing her features tight.
Yet she kept her chin up, ready to deal with whatever else he might reveal. She really was something. Strong—unbelievably strong and decent and caring. Funny and gentle and passionate.
Her mother must have been an amazing woman to have produced a daughter like her despite Sanderson’s influence.
‘Can I get you something?’
She nodded. ‘Something strong.’
‘Whisky? Brandy?’
‘Vodka. A double.’
Her chin rode even higher at his questioning look. Who was he to question? Wasn’t he craving alcohol to deaden the feeling he’d destroyed something precious with his revelations?
Donato turned away, grateful for something to do. Behind him came the rustle of fabric. She must be getting more comfortable, sitting properly on that chair. Good.
His fingers didn’t work properly and it took him a while to fumble the lid off the bottle and pour their drinks.
‘I’m sorry to have shocked you.’ The words sounded trite but it was true. He regretted causing her pain, even though she deserved to know the truth.
‘Here. This should help.’ He swung around, two glasses in his hands, then stopped, staring.
On the floor where Ella had been was a mound of white—her discarded dress. She must have stepped out of it and walked, naked from the room. Belatedly Donato registered the sound of movement overhead. She was in his bedroom.
His fingers tightened on the glasses.
He needed to talk with her, find out what, if anything, could be salvaged from the wreck of their relationship.
Except she’d made her feelings clear. She hadn’t even wanted to share a drink with him. No doubt she couldn’t bear the sight of him. He was the harbinger of doom, the man who’d destroyed her father and shattered any remaining illusions she might have had about Sanderson. He was the man who’d used her to further his schemes. He’d had no compunction about leading her on and making use of her.
No wonder she’d walked out on him.
And the dress on the floor?
He looked at the gleaming pile of pure white with its sprinkle of stardust. He’d seen Ella in it and his heart had shuddered to a stop. Not just because she was beautiful, but because he recognised how much he wanted her.
She was his. He felt it in the very marrow of his bones.
Donato lifted one glass and downed the double vodka, grimacing.
It took everything he had not to race up the stairs. She needed time. He owed her that at least.
His eyes turned back to the glimmering white dress on the floor, feeling as if one touch from him would mark its purity.
Ella was a world away from him. What could she possibly want with him now the truth was out?
Donato sank into a chair rather than follow his instinct and confront her. He had to allow her some privacy and dignity while she came to grips with what she’d learned.
He lifted the second glass and drank deeply. The neat alcohol burned his throat but didn’t touch the arctic freeze at his heart.
He made himself sit for a long time, listening to the occasional faint sounds as Ella paced above him. Finally, when he could wait no longer, he put down the empty glasses and rose.
The empty bedroom surprised him, as did the leap of emotion in his chest. By the time he’d tried the bathroom and walk-in wardrobe and found them empty of Ella, not even a stray hairclip remaining, a clammy hand had closed around his hammering heart.
Fear. Not fear for his physical safety as he’d felt in prison, but fear like he’d known as a child. Fear that he’d lost the one person in the world who truly mattered.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Four months later
THE DELIVERY CAME out of the blue. No note. No return address. The label was typed, impersonal.
But Donato knew.
It was from Ella. He sensed it.
Or was he kidding himself again? He’d put off leaving the S
ydney house, even though he didn’t have the stomach for a new project here. But he hadn’t relocated back to Melbourne. Nor had he discovered anything to capture his interest.
Business didn’t satisfy. Nor did any of the outdoor sports he usually revelled in.
His staff thought he was ill. But there was no medicine that could fix what ailed him.
More than once he’d picked up the phone to hire an investigator and locate Ella. It would be simple. He knew what part of Sydney she lived and worked in.
But then he’d remember her disapproval of such invasive tactics. He’d given his word he wouldn’t do that to her. That promise chafed him now, when he needed so desperately to see her.
If she wanted to contact him she’d call. She had his numbers, and his address. After what he’d done it had to be her choice.
Her silence showed what choice she’d made.
Donato wrestled with the protective padding inside the delivery box and swore as he cut himself. He stopped and drew a breath. His hands were shaking. All because he imagined this was from her!
Maldición! What had he come to?
He grimaced and ripped the padding away. He stared. Pain banded his chest as he dragged in oxygen, then held it, shock making him forget to breathe.
Before him stood an ebony and walnut side table, subtly modern in its simplicity. Yet it gleamed with the patina only age and loving care could create.
Donato reached out to stroke the top, then the curve of one leg. The old wood was like satin. He shut his eyes and remembered the lush feel of that white bridal gown beneath his fingers and, even more exquisite, the softness of Ella’s bare skin.
Had she worked on this table herself, polishing where he touched? Or had she sent it to a professional to restore? Opening his eyes, he peered at the inlaid top. There was no sign of the damage that had marred the table when Ella found it. He remembered it vividly, the day in the Blue Mountains she’d taken him antiques shopping. She’d been so happy, her eyes dancing with excitement. Her pleasure had been catching.
Donato’s hand fell. He wanted that again. Ella happy. Ella with him. He needed it.
Revenge on Sanderson had turned to ashes in his mouth when he’d lost her. Sanderson was bankrupt, his reputation in tatters, and the police were investigating him, not for his role in people trafficking, but for fraud. But instead of completing Donato, his quest for justice and retribution made him realise how empty he was without her.
Yet he hesitated.
He didn’t know if this gift was a sign she’d forgiven him or a farewell. Maybe she couldn’t bear to see it and remember she’d been with him when she found it.
Nerves swarmed in his belly and his shoulders hunched tight.
Eyes on Ella’s gift, he reached for the phone.
* * *
‘Don’t fidget or you’ll spoil this make-up.’ Fuzz tsked but didn’t really sound annoyed. Ella had never seen her so happy.
Even tonight, before the lavish party to celebrate the opening of the tropical resort, Fuzz was relaxed, sure everything would work out. She wore a permanent smile and, for the first time, seemed utterly content. There were lots of reasons for that—having a purpose and an outlet for her creative talent, getting away from their father’s influence. But, most of all, Ella put the change down to love.
She swallowed as her throat tightened. She was not jealous of her sister’s happiness.
‘I don’t see why I need make-up. Or a new dress.’ She fingered the dusky pink chiffon, delicate as fairy wings, fluttering around her legs as her sister fussed over Ella’s hair and make-up.
‘Because it’s time to party.’ Fuzz stood back, surveying her handiwork. ‘I want you to look gorgeous.’
Ella snorted. ‘Fat chance.’ The closest she’d come to that had been in the ill-fated wedding dress. Instantly she clamped her mind shut against the memory.
That was over. It was time to move on. She couldn’t hate Donato for bringing down her father. She’d tried for years to love Reg Sanderson but had never been able to. The news of his criminal past had been the final straw and she’d severed all ties. Bankrupt and bereft of friends, he’d slunk away from Sydney, she didn’t know or care where.
As for Donato—he’d shattered her silly illusion that he really cared for her. She’d been just a convenient tool. She had no business pining for the man who’d taken advantage of her so ruthlessly. Surely she had more self-respect than that, even if she could understand his determination to ruin her father.
‘Stop frowning! You’ll scare the guests. There, that’s better. No one can hold a candle to you when you smile.’
Ella looked up into the exquisitely delicate features of her sister and shook her head.
‘It’s true, Ella. You’re the only person who doesn’t realise it.’ Fuzz reached for something. ‘Here. One final thing to make the outfit complete. It sits high on your arm, not around your wrist.’ She pressed a tissue-wrapped parcel into Ella’s hand then swung away. ‘Matthew will be wondering where I am. See you soon.’
Ella unwrapped the paper and stared, agog, at the object in her hand. The light caught its facets, making it shine brilliantly. Ella’s breath stopped. It couldn’t be.
Of course it couldn’t. It had to be a copy. The real piece, made by a world-renowned jeweller almost a century ago, featured platinum set with pink diamonds and onyx, and was forth a fortune. It had featured recently in an international sale catalogue.
Her insides squeezed as she thought of Donato and the fun they’d had poring over such catalogues.
Forcing her mind away from Donato, she pushed the bangle over her wrist and onto her upper arm. It fitted snugly.
Turning, she surveyed herself in the mirror. She looked different. Fuzz had hidden the shadows around her eyes from too many sleepless nights and the flash of the costume jewellery made her eyes sparkle. Her dress was sophisticated but subtle and feminine. She wished Donato could see her like this. Elegant. Happy. Getting on with her life.
For a second her lips threatened to crumple. Then she stiffened her shoulders and turned towards the door. She had a party to attend. Who knew, she might even meet some fascinating people who’d take her mind off what she’d lost.
She was halfway from her cabin to the main resort, following a path curving between lush palms, when a deep voice made her falter.
‘Hello, Ella.’
Shock slammed into her. ‘Donato?’
He stepped out of the shadows looking darkly charismatic and compelling. Her heart sprinted and she had to drag in a sustaining breath. Donato Salazar in a dinner jacket looked too good to be true.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was invited.’
‘Invited? I didn’t...’ She frowned. No wonder Fuzz had raced off rather than waiting for her. When she got her hands on her sister—
‘You look wonderful, corazón.’
‘Don’t.’ She put out her hand to ward off his words. She didn’t want those lilting Spanish endearments that turned her mind to mush and her knees to water.
Instantly the half smile curving his mouth disappeared. Tension replaced it.
‘Why are you here?’ She crossed her arms over her chest, holding in her galloping heart and the pain that welled there. Her fingers clamped on the new bangle, solid and cool against her overheated flesh.
‘To talk. I needed to see you.’ His deep voice wrapped around her like an embrace and she found herself leaning forward. With an effort she straightened.
‘Why?’ It was all she could manage. Excitement vied with nerves.
‘Why did you send me the table?’ he countered.
That was Donato. Straight to the point.
She swallowed. At the time it had seemed right. Yet now she was too scared to tell the truth. ‘I k
new you’d like it.’ His gaze bored into her as if reading everything she couldn’t say. ‘And I’ve got a small flat. There wasn’t room for it.’
‘It’s only a small table.’
She shrugged.
‘Or was it because it evoked too many memories?’
‘How did you—?’ She clamped her lips shut. He didn’t need to know she couldn’t look at the table without remembering the fun they’d had together, their shared passion, the way he’d gently teased her then pleased her and always made her feel special. Until that last day when he’d shattered her illusions with the truth.
He stepped back, his eyes clouding. ‘I see. It reminded you of unhappy things. Of the mistakes I made.’
Mistakes? Since when did Donato admit to mistakes? Everything he did fitted in his grand plan. Even being with her.
‘Yet you accepted my gift.’ He nodded to the bangle on her upper arm.
Ella started. ‘Your gift?’
‘Your sister didn’t tell you?’
Ella shook her head, her gaze going to the beautiful jewellery that even in this dim light managed to sparkle.
‘I thought it was a copy. I had no idea!’ She made to yank the armband off.
‘Don’t!’ he barked. ‘Leave it.’ He drew himself up to his full height and she felt tension radiate off him, making her skin prickle. ‘Think of it as a parting gift. An apology for the way I duped you. It was reprehensible of me.’ He turned away, but the sight of him leaving broke her resolve.
‘Wait! You can’t just go like that.’ Her fingers itched to reach for him but she forced her hands to her sides.
‘Why not? You don’t want me here.’ There was something in his voice she couldn’t identify. His profile was stony, his jaw tight, yet his words made her wonder.
Was she brave enough to find out?
‘Donato.’ She stepped closer, her breathing almost non-existent, her stomach churning. ‘Tell me the truth. Why did you come?’
He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkening sky as if seeking guidance. When he swung his face towards her he’d lost that masked look. His expression was passionately alive, eyes gleaming and mouth twisted with pain.
