THE UNCOMPROMISING ITALIAN

by Cathy Williams

  ‘Yes, but it all remains the same. She’s going to be—I can’t imagine—certainly not warm and welcoming to the person who brought the whole thing to light.’

  ‘But you have no personal axe to grind with her.’ Would she come? It suddenly seemed very important that she was at his side. He was uneasily aware that there was an element of need there. How and why had that happened? He swept aside his discomfort.

  ‘I also have my job, Alessio.’ She was certain that she should be feeling horrified and indignant at his nerve in asking her to go way beyond the bounds of what she had been paid to do. Especially when she had made such a big effort to wrap everything up so that she could escape the suffocating, dangerous effect he had on her.

  ‘You can leave that to me,’ he murmured.

  ‘Leave that to you? How do you work that one out?’

  ‘I’ve just concluded a deal to buy a string of luxury boutique hotels in Italy. Failing business, mismanagement, feuding amongst the board members; that’s what the trip to London was all about. I needed to be there to finalise the details with lawyers.’

  ‘How exciting,’ Lesley said politely.

  ‘More so than you might imagine. It’s the first time I shall be dabbling in the leisure industry and, naturally, I will want a comprehensive website designed.’

  ‘You have your own people to do that.’

  ‘They’re remarkably busy at the moment. This will be a job that will definitely have to be outsourced. Not only could it be worth a great deal of money to the company lucky enough to get the job, but there’s no telling how many other jobs will come in its wake.’

  ‘Are you coercing me?’

  ‘I prefer to call it persuasion.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘I usually get what I want,’ Alessio said with utter truth. ‘And what I want is for you to come with me to Italy and, if this proves a helpful lever, then that’s all to the good. I’m sure when I explain to your boss the size and scale of the job, and the fact that it would be extremely useful to have you over there so that you can soak up the atmosphere and get a handle on how best to pitch the project...’ He gave an elegant shrug and a smile of utter devastation; both relayed the message that she was more or less trapped.

  Naturally she could turn down his offer but her boss might be a little miffed should he get to hear that. They were a thriving company but, with the current economic climate, potential setbacks lurked round every corner.

  Whatever work came their way was not to be sniffed at, especially when the work in question could be highly lucrative and extensive.

  ‘And if you’re concerned about your pay,’ he continued, ‘Rest assured that you will be earning exactly the same rate as you were for the job you just so successfully completed.’

  ‘I’m not concerned about the money!’

  ‘Why don’t you want to come? It’ll be a holiday.’

  ‘You don’t need me there, not really.’

  ‘You have no idea what I need or don’t need,’ Alessio murmured softly.

  ‘You might change your mind when you see what else I have to show you.’ But already she was trying to staunch the wave of anticipation at the thought of going abroad with him, having a few more days in his company, feeding her silly addiction.

  She rescued papers from the bottom of the folder, pushed them across to him and watched carefully as he rifled through them.

  But then, the moment felt too private, and she stood up and began getting them both a couple of cups of coffee.

  What would he be thinking? she wondered as he looked at the little collection of articles about him which she had found in a scrap book in Rachel’s room. Again, no attempt had been made to conceal them. Rachel had collected bits and pieces about her father over the years; there were photographs as well, which she must have taken from an album somewhere. Photos of him as a young man.

  Eventually, when she could no longer pretend to be taking her time with the coffee, she handed a mug to him and sat back down.

  ‘You found these...’ Alessio cleared his throat but he couldn’t look her in the eyes.

  ‘I found them,’ Lesley said gently. ‘So, you see, your daughter isn’t quite as indifferent to you as you might believe. Having the conversation you need to have with her might not be quite so difficult as you imagine.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘THIS IS QUITE a surprise.’ This was all Alessio could find to say and he knew that it was inadequate. His daughter had been collecting a scrap book about him. That reached deep down to a part of him he’d thought no longer existed. He stared down at the most recent cutting of him printed off the Internet. He had had an article written in the business section of the Financial Times following the acquisition of a small, independent bank in Spain. It was a poor picture but she had still printed it off and shoved it inside the scrap book.

  What was he to think?

  He rested his forehead against his clenched fist and drew in a long breath.

  A wave of compassion washed over Lesley. Alessio Baldini was tough, cool, controlled. If he hadn’t already told her, his entire manner was indicative of someone who knew that they could get what he wanted simply by snapping his fingers. It was a trait she couldn’t abide in anyone.

  She hated rich men who acted as though they owned the world and everything in it.

  She hated men who felt that they could fling money at any problem and, lo and behold, a solution would be forthcoming.

  And she hated anyone who didn’t value the importance of family life. Family was what grounded you, made you put everything into perspective; stopped you from ever taking yourself too seriously or sacrificing too much in pursuit of your goals.

  Alessio acted as he if he owned the world and he certainly acted as though money was the root of solving all problems. If he was a victim of circumstances when it came to an unfortunate family life, then he definitely did not behave as though now was the time when he could begin sorting it out.

  So why was she now reaching out to place her hand on his arm? Why had she pulled her chair just that little bit nearer to his so that she could feel the heat radiating from his body?

  Was it because the vulnerability she had always sensed in him whenever the subject of his daughter came up was now so glaringly obvious?

  Rachel was his Achilles heel; in a flash of comprehension, Lesley saw that. In every other area, Alessio was in complete control of his surroundings, of his life, but when it came to his daughter he floundered.

  The women he had dated in the past had been kept at a distance. Once bitten, twice shy, and after his experiences with Bianca he had made sure never to let any other woman get past the steel walls that surrounded him. They would never have glimpsed the man who was at a loss when it came to his daughter. She wondered how many of them even knew that he had a daughter.

  But here she was. She had seen him at his most naked, emotionally.

  That was a good thing, she thought, and a bad thing. It was good insofar as everyone needed a sounding board when it came to dark thoughts and emotions. Those were burdens that could not be carried single-handed. He might have passed the years with his deepest thoughts locked away, but there was no way he would ever have been able to eradicate them, and letting them out could only be a good thing.

  With this situation, he had been forced to reveal more about those thoughts to her than he ever had to anyone else. She was certain of that.

  The down side was that, for a proud man, the necessity of having to confide thoughts normally hidden would eventually be seen as a sign of weakness.

  The sympathetic, listening ear would only work for so long before it turned into a source of resentment.

  But did that matter? Really? They wouldn’t be around one another for much longer and right here, right now, in some weird, unspoken way, he needed her. She felt it, even though it was something he would never, ever articulate.

  Those cuttings had moved him beyond words. He was t
rying hard to control his reaction in front of an audience; that was evident in the thickness of the silence.

  ‘You’ll have to return that scrap book to where you found it,’ he said gruffly when the silence had been stretched to breaking point. ‘Leave it with me overnight and I’ll give it to you in the morning.’

  Lesley nodded. Her hand was still on his arm and he hadn’t shrugged it away. She allowed it to travel so that she was stroking upwards, feeling the strength of his muscles straining under the shirt and the definition of his shoulders and collarbone.

  Alessio’s eyes narrowed on her.

  ‘Are you feeling sorry for me?’ His voice was less cold than it should have been. ‘Is that a pity caress?’

  He had never confided in anyone. He certainly had never been an object of pity to anyone, any woman, ever. The thought alone was laughable. Women had always hung onto his every word, longed for some small indication that they occupied a more special role in his life than he was willing to admit to them.

  Naturally, they hadn’t.

  Lesley, though...

  She was in a different category. The pity caress did not evoke the expected feelings of contempt, impatience and anger that he would have expected.

  He caught her hand in his and held on to it.

  ‘It’s not a pity caress.’ Lesley breathed. Her skin burned where he was touching it, a blaze that was stoked by the expression in his eyes: dark, thoughtful, insightful, amused. ‘But I know it must be disconcerting, looking through Rachel’s scrap book, seeing pictures of yourself there, articles cut out or printed off from the Internet.’ He still wasn’t saying anything. He was still just staring at her, his head slightly to one side, his expression brooding and intent.

  Her voice petered out and she stared right back at him, eyes wide. She could barely breathe. The moment seemed as fragile as a droplet of water balancing on the tip of a leaf, ready to fall and splinter apart.

  She didn’t want the moment to end. It was wrong, she knew that, but still she wanted to touch his face and smooth away those very human, very uncertain feelings she knew he would be having; feelings he would be taking great care of to conceal.

  ‘The scrap book was just lying there,’ she babbled away as she continued to get lost in his eyes. ‘On the bed. I would have felt awful if I had found it hidden under the mattress or at the bottom of a drawer somewhere, but it was just there, waiting to be found.’

  ‘Not by me. Rachel knew that I would never go into her suite of rooms.’

  Lesley shrugged. ‘I wanted you to see that you’re important to your daughter,’ she murmured shakily, ‘Even if you don’t think you are because of the way she acts. Teenagers can be very awkward when it comes to showing their feelings.’ He still wasn’t saying anything. If he thought that she felt sorry for him, then how was it that he was staying put, not angrily stalking off? ‘You remember being a teenager.’ She tried a smile in an attempt to lighten the screaming tension between them.

  ‘Vaguely. When I think back to my teenage years, I inevitably end up thinking back to being a daddy before I was out of them.’

  ‘Of course,’ Lesley murmured, her voice warm with understanding. At the age of fourteen, not even knowing it, he would have been a mere four years away from becoming a father. It was incredible.

  ‘You’re doing it again,’ Alessio said under his breath.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Smothering me with your sympathy. Don’t worry. Maybe I like it.’ His mouth curved into a wolfish smile but underneath that, he thought with passing confusion, her sympathy was actually very welcome.

  He reached out and touched her face, then ran two fingers along her cheek, circling her mouth then along her slender neck, coming to rest at the base of her collarbone.

  ‘Have you felt what I’ve been feeling for the past couple of days?’ he asked.

  Lesley wasn’t sure she was physically capable of answering his question. Not with that hand on her collarbone and her brain reliving every inch of its caress as it had touched her cheek and moved sensuously over her mouth.

  ‘Well?’ Alessio prompted. He rested his other hand on her thigh and began massaging it, very gently but very thoroughly, just the one spot, but it was enough to make the breath catch in her throat.

  ‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?’ As if she didn’t know. As if she wasn’t constantly aware of the way he unsettled her. And was she conscious that the electricity flowed both ways? Maybe she was. Maybe that was why the situation had seemed so dangerous.

  She had thought that she needed to get out because her attraction to him was getting too much, was threatening to become evident. Maybe a part of her had known that the real reason she needed to get out was because, on some level, she knew that he was attracted to her as well. That underneath the light-hearted flirting there was a very real undercurrent of mutual sexual chemistry.

  And that was not good, not at all. She didn’t do one-night stands, or two-day stands, or ‘going nowhere so why not have a quick romp?’ stands.

  She did relationships. If there had been no guy in her life for literally years, then it was because she had never been the kind of girl who had sex just for the sake of it.

  But with Alessio something told her that she could be that girl, and that scared her.

  ‘You know exactly what I mean. You want me. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a while...’

  ‘I should go up to bed.’ Lesley breathed unevenly, nailed to the spot and not moving an inch despite her protestations. ‘Leave you to your thoughts...’

  ‘Maybe I’m not that keen on being alone with my thoughts,’ Alessio said truthfully. ‘Maybe my thoughts are a black hole into which I have no desire to fall. Maybe I want your pity and your sympathy because they can save me from that fall.’

  And what happens when you’ve been saved from that fall? What happens to me? You’re in a weird place right now and, if I rescue you now, what happens when you leave that weird place and shut the door on it once again?

  But those muddled thoughts barely had time to settle before they were blown away by the fiercely exciting thought of being with the man who was leaning towards her, staring at her with such intensity that she wanted to moan.

  And, before she could retreat behind more weak protestations, he was cupping the back of her neck and drawing her towards him, very slowly, so slowly that she had time to appreciate the depth of his dark eyes; the fine lines that etched his features; the slow, sexy curve of his mouth; the length of his dark eyelashes.

  Lesley fell into the kiss with a soft moan, part resignation, part despair; mostly intense, long-awaited excitement. She spread her hand behind his neck in a mirror gesture to how he was holding her and, as his tongue invaded the soft contours of her mouth, she returned the kiss and let that kiss do its work—spread moisture between her legs, pinch her nipples into tight, sensitive buds, raise the hairs on her arms.

  ‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ she muttered, breaking apart for a few seconds and immediately wanting to draw him back towards her again.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because this isn’t the right reason for going to bed with someone.’

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He leaned to kiss her again but she stilled him with a hand on his chest and met his gaze with anxious eyes.

  ‘I don’t pity you, Alessio,’ she said huskily. ‘I’m sorry that you don’t have the relationship with your daughter that you’d like, but I don’t pity you. And when I showed you that scrap book it was because I felt the contents were something you needed to know about. What I feel is...understanding and compassion.’

  ‘And what I feel is that we shouldn’t get lost in words.’

  ‘Because words are not your thing?’ But she smiled and felt a rush of tenderness towards this strong, powerful man who was also capable of being so wonderfully human, hard though he might try to fight it.

  ‘You know what they say about actions spea
king louder...’ He grinned at her. His body was on fire. She was right—words weren’t his thing, at least not the words that made up long, involved conversations about feelings. He scooped her up and she gave a little cry of surprise, then wriggled and told him to put her down immediately; she might be slim but she was way too tall for him to start thinking he could play the caveman with her.

  Alessio ignored her and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom.

  ‘Every woman likes a caveman.’ He gently kicked open his bedroom door and then deposited her on his king-sized bed.

  Night had crept up without either of them realising it and, without the bedroom lights switched on, the darkness only allowed them to see one another in shadowy definition.

  ‘I don’t,’ Lesley told him breathlessly as he stood in front of her and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  She had already seen him barely clothed in the pool. She should know what to expect when it came to his body and yet, as he tossed his shirt carelessly on the ground, it was as if she was looking at him for the first time.

  The impact he had on her was as new, as raw, as powerful.

  But then, this was different, wasn’t it? This wasn’t a case of watching him covertly from the sidelines as he covered a few lengths in a swimming pool.

  This was lying on his bed, in a darkened room, with the promise of possession flicking through her like a spreading fire.

  Alessio didn’t want to talk. He wanted to take her, fast and hard, until he heard her cry out with satisfaction. He wanted to pleasure her and feel her come with him inside her.

  But how much sweeter to take his time, to taste every inch of her, to withstand the demands of his raging hormones and indulge in making love with her at a more leisurely pace.

  ‘No?’ he drawled, hand resting on the zipper of his trousers before he began taking those off as well, where they joined the shirt in a heap on the ground, leaving him in just his boxers. ‘You think I’m a caveman because I carried you up the stairs?’