A Passionate Revenge

by Sara Wood

  ‘On the contrary. I did them standing on my head,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Messy, when preparing soup,’ he commented.

  A smile escaped before she could kill it. A flash of their past banter went through her head. They’d had such fun. She winced. The whole time, he’d been secretly laughing at her gullibility.

  She’d been incredibly ugly, scorned by everyone and the butt of constant jokes. Scared and intimidated by the bullies, she’d crept about school like a frightened mouse and rarely opened her mouth. Why had she ever imagined that someone as desirable as Vido would choose to be with someone so repulsive?

  ‘Ha ha,’ she said without an ounce of humour.

  Vido leaned forwards, his eyes intent on her taut face. ‘OK. Why did you leave La Scala?’

  Pain flickered in her eyes at the memory of that terrible moment when her ambition had been thwarted. But she rallied.

  ‘I had to return to Stratford because Grandpa’s factory was in trouble by then and he needed me around.’

  By the frown that drew his brows together, he seemed affronted by her explanation. ‘You’re telling me that you turned down the prospect of a glittering career for his convenience?’

  ‘I had to.’ Her mouth took on a stubborn line.

  ‘So that your grandfather could come home to vent his spleen on you? So he could be served a cooked meal before he drowned his sorrows in a bottle of malt whisky?’

  She flushed. Vido had described the situation with biting accuracy. ‘He needed me. I couldn’t desert him,’ she said stiffly.

  Vido scowled. ‘You needed your own life, your own future. Talent should never be wasted. He’s a selfish old man and should have allowed you to—’

  ‘I couldn’t leave him to cope alone!’ she said indignantly. ‘Would you have left your mother like that?’

  He jerked back in his seat. Then glared. ‘No.’

  ‘Well, then.’

  ‘But my mother had cared for me,’ he said softly. ‘Loved me. Worked day and night for my benefit—’

  ‘My grandfather had to give up a lot to bring me up—’

  ‘Is that true? I got the impression that you just had to fit in with his life the best you could.’

  ‘I’m not discussing him with you,’ she bit. ‘You’re exceeding the needs of this interview. All you need to know is that I am an experienced chef and the only reason I don’t have a restaurant of my own is because I have to stay close to home. I was forced to leave Georgio’s because the hours were so awful. And I applied for this position because I want a challenge. My present job is a waste of my skills—and frankly it’s boring.’

  She paused, annoyed. He was staring at her legs. She felt the intensity of his gaze almost as if his hand was caressing her with long strokes…up her shin. Around her knee. Along the inch or two of thigh exposed by her skirt.

  The heavy lashes flicked up and his gaze met her eyes. She was trembling.

  ‘You want something more exciting?’ he said, his expression so unreadable that she thought she’d been imagining things.

  But her body didn’t feel the same way. Assailed by the tingling of her skin and the heavy beat of her heart, she’d totally lost the thread of what she was saying.

  Somehow she caught her wits before they totally deserted her. Vido was all male. Ogling women was what he did as a matter of course. Nothing personal.

  ‘Yes,’ she said doggedly. ‘Someone told me about this job. They’d seen it in The London Press—’

  ‘Someone?’ he queried, pouncing on her remark.

  Anna’s fingers went to her engagement ring. Vido suddenly saw this and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘My fiancé,’ she said equably, gaining confidence.

  ‘Just got engaged?’

  She remembered that she hadn’t been wearing her ring the last time they’d met. ‘No. Six months ago.’

  She was loved. Lovable. Her brow furrowed. At least, she thought Peter loved her though he wasn’t very effusive. He’d proposed, after all. He wanted a wife and children. It was a very companionable kind of relationship.

  ‘You have plans for marriage?’ Vido’s harsh tone broke into her disastrously wandering thoughts.

  ‘Of course,’ she said automatically. ‘In two months’ time.’

  So soon! Whenever she thought of it now she felt a cold chill of doubt. Her childhood and teenage years had made her vulnerable to charm—she’d proved that by falling for the deceitful Vido. Could she be making the same mistake with Peter? But before she could dwell on this, he had captured her uncertain gaze with his.

  ‘At least you can be sure he’s not a fortune-hunter,’ he muttered.

  She went cold. Vido had voiced something she’d been thinking for the past few months. Peter had been shocked when her grandfather had been made a bankrupt. He’d gone a sickly green.

  ‘Peter has a well-paid job in the City,’ she declared.

  Vido’s eyes were as hard as jet. ‘Continue. You saw the advert. What attracted you most to the job?’

  Disconsolately she gathered her thoughts. This could have been a dream position. If only…

  She brought herself up sharp. No point in wishing. She’d get over the disappointment.

  ‘I suppose the fact that it specified a preference for someone experienced in cooking Italian food. There’s nothing I like more than preparing home-cooked meals, Italian-style—’

  ‘You can cook agnolotti? Ribollita? Spezzeltino?’

  ‘Spezzatino,’ she corrected, wondering if he’d been testing her. ‘Vido, read the references. I’m not bragging. I am a great chef where Italian food is concerned. One of the best. I’m used to presenting food to La Scala standards. That says it all, I think.’

  ‘You could produce dinner for, say, twenty? Thirty?’

  ‘Easy,’ she said with confidence. ‘I’d even worked out a few menus—’

  ‘Let me see.’

  The tone was too commanding to refuse. Digging into her bag, she removed the relevant sheets and handed them over. She’d spent hours on them. Much good may they do her, she thought.

  Though they’d make good menus for Peter’s clients. An image of her married self, slaving in the kitchen after work while her husband entertained his guests, flashed before her eyes. It was a future she shrank from.

  There was a silence while Vido intently studied the menus. She was able to study him without being zapped by that intimidating stare.

  The dark crescent lashes. The long, straight nose. His sexy lips which were parting in a smile of pleasure as he read. She knew how mouth-watering her choices were. But she wasn’t prepared for his reaction to be so incredibly sensual.

  His lazy gaze lifted to hers and it was as if all his hostility had been dropped for a moment.

  ‘Complimenti,’ he murmured, his voice as rich as tiramisu. ‘You have successfully aroused my appetite.’

  A tremor went through her even though she realised that he was referring to the enticing menus. This was how he seduced all those women, she thought, her throat dry as a desert. He gave them that slow stare and sexy drawl that made his mouth move as if it was ripe for kissing.

  ‘That was my intention,’ she replied, sounding more like nutmegs being grated.

  ‘One you may regret,’ he purred and she wondered what he meant.

  Her hands fluttered. ‘Why?’ she croaked.

  He merely smiled, as if he had private plans for her. He exuded an electric energy that seemed to hurtle towards her like a living thing that was hell bent on destroying her. And the terrible thing was that this excited her.

  ‘I’m asking the questions for now. What else attracted you?’ he shot.

  She blinked, thinking of the way his lips curled with sensual intent. The sharpness of his white teeth…

  ‘What?’ she asked hazily.

  The heavy lashes flickered. ‘To the position…of chef.’

  ‘Oh!’ He was goading her, deliberately making sure she knew what she’d
be losing by being refused the job, she thought irritably. Yet honesty compelled her to reply. ‘Obviously it would be the furnished, luxury two-bedroomed flat.’

  ‘And of course you would have had the freedom to roam the grounds of your old home in your leisure time,’ he reminded her, twisting the knife with vicious relish.

  Anna lowered her eyes to hide the pain. The job had seemed too good to be true. Now she knew that it was too good to be true.

  ‘Grandfather would have loved being here,’ she admitted grudgingly.

  Vido nodded, seemingly in sympathy, but she knew better. ‘Free accommodation in a place he regards as home.’

  ‘OK!’ she grated. ‘You’ve made your point. But he would never come here, knowing you owned the house!’

  ‘No. What a shame. It would have speeded his recovery, wouldn’t it?’ he said with a show of regret and she wanted to fly at him and tear her nails down his face. She checked her anger, appalled at its ferocity. ‘Then there’s the salary—’

  ‘It wasn’t a priority like the other things I’ve mentioned.’ She sat stiff and resentful, hating him with all her heart.

  ‘Though it would be generous enough to transform your lives.’

  Anger splintered her self-control. ‘Yes! Does that satisfy you?’ she cried, stung into retaliating. ‘Are you amused and pleased? Do you take pleasure in the fact that our positions are reversed? If so, you can put yourself in the same category you put my grandfather and me! You thought we looked down on people less fortunate than ourselves and now you’re revelling in your position and virtually salivating because—’

  ‘I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t feel some kind of satisfaction that justice had prevailed—’

  ‘Justice? That a liar and a thief, who wouldn’t know a moral if it sat on him, has conned his way up to the top?’

  ‘How passionate you are, Anna,’ he said tightly. ‘And I thought you so cool and controlled.’

  But not where you’re concerned, she thought, the bitterness biting into her like a canker.

  There was a long silence. She saw that he was studying her intently. Tension thickened the air between them and it became hard for her to breathe naturally. He dominated the room. She’d heard of people having ‘presence’ before—and now she knew what that meant. A charismatic energy force that sucked you towards it, however unwillingly.

  And she was being drawn to him despite all her efforts to stay aloof. In panic, she looked away, afraid of his power to liquefy her brain and body.

  ‘I think you’ve fulfilled your obligation to interview me,’ she said coldly. Stiff with tension, she rose to her feet, willing her weak and trembling legs not to let her down. ‘As far as I’m concerned there’s nothing more to be said. Are you done with this farce of political correctness?’

  ‘You think there might be more we could do?’ he silked.

  She felt a ripple of heat run through her and shut her mind to what she wanted to do with him. Horrified by the sexual ache that seemed to be taking her common sense and decency over, she replied with tight self-loathing;

  ‘No. Just that I had expected some tough questions and role-playing.’

  She wondered why she was speaking as if she was intoxicated, the words slurring alarmingly. Her frantic eyes settled on him. The light from the window was highlighting his beautiful cheekbones and she imagined pressing her lips to the dark hollows beneath. Then moving on to his gloriously carved mouth…

  ‘We can play if you like,’ he offered. ‘I’m game.’

  She had to swallow. The husky tone had vibrated deep in her body and she could feel herself becoming damp with desire. It was a humiliating reaction. One she’d never had with Peter.

  Her mind whirled. That was wrong. They would be lovers one day. Yet the thought of physical intimacy with Peter filled her with dismay and she knew that she must sort that particular situation out. When she’d discovered where her sanity had gone.

  ‘I’m not,’ she jerked out primly. ‘We’ve taken up enough of one another’s time on a rather pointless exercise. Goodbye.’

  She could barely get the final word out. A sense of utter dismay had claimed her. She had wanted the job more than she’d realised and it was harder than she could have imagined to walk away. Even from a monster like Vido.

  ‘Anna. Wait.’

  With drooping shoulders, she paused halfway to the door. He came to stand in front of her, blocking her escape.

  ‘What now?’

  She knew she’d sounded irritable, but she wanted to leave before he realised how miserable she was. And before he could discover how easily he’d aroused her. She tightened her thigh muscles and waited, grim-faced, just listening to her body throbbing and wondering why he, of all men, should be able to find his way so surely to her innermost desires.

  ‘I would like you to meet my staff,’ he murmured.

  Looking up, her eyes huge and startled, she saw nothing in his implacable face to explain why.

  ‘What on earth for?’ she asked with a frown.

  ‘Hunger.’

  She glared. There were too many double meanings flying around for her liking. His mocking expression suggested they were all intentional.

  ‘Try the chip shop.’

  ‘Please! We’re all desperate,’ he coaxed, wielding his silvery tongue to devastating effect. ‘I’ll come clean. I badly need a chef to make my plans work to their full potential. I have people arriving next week and I don’t want to feed them take-aways. You’re more familiar with Italian home-cooking than anyone I’ve interviewed. Those menus have stimulated my gastric juices more than you can imagine.’

  He could have sold central heating on the equator, she thought sourly. ‘Of course. They were designed to give me an advantage over other applicants,’ she muttered, resenting him.

  ‘They did more than that. They made you irresistible.’ There was a long silence that seemed to thicken the space between them. ‘I have a suggestion, Anna. Cook dinner. Nothing grand, just a family kind of meal. Twelve of us altogether. If you like us and we like you—and the food—I’ll give you a six-month trial.’

  It was too cruel. Everything she’d dreamed of… There was a wild flutter of excitement in her stomach but she crushed it with ruthless speed before it affected her judgement. Vido wasn’t to be trusted.

  ‘Is this a ploy to get your supper cooked?’ she asked scornfully.

  In one swift second, Vido’s face turned to granite. ‘No,’ he said, clearly bristling at the idea. ‘It’s a genuine offer.’

  ‘Not a little game? Do you want me to tell you I want the job so that you can take a perverse delight in turning me down?’ she demanded.

  ‘You do have a bad opinion of me, don’t you?’ he said with soft dislike. ‘You’re more than qualified to be my chef. The only doubt in my mind is how you’d gel with the team. In the final analysis, the staff will decide whether they like you, not me. I have one vote. That’s how we operate. As a democracy.’

  Doubt shadowed her face. Vido had admitted he’d enjoyed the sensation of buying the house from her grandfather. Maybe it would be equally satisfying to employ her. Then he could sit at the head of the table and see her hot and flushed from the kitchen, dishing up food for him like a forelock-tugging menial. A horrible, petty triumph.

  Her gaze fell and she surveyed her uncomfortable new shoes disconsolately. Grandpa would be so distressed to know she hadn’t landed the job. He’d been sure she’d get it. Her hands clenched into fists and she tightened her jaw in frustration.

  The generous salary would have enabled her to send him to the convalescent home he’d set his heart on. Instead, they’d be jammed in the little cottage, snapping at one another while she worked all hours to pay the basic bills. Horrible.

  Despairing, she shut her mind to the temptation to say ‘yes’ and prepared herself for a few more months of spinning pizzas around. The prospect made her feel bone-weary, as if the life had been sucked out of her.

&n
bsp; ‘You know it’s out of the question,’ she said, choking back tears of disappointment and frustration. ‘We can’t both be in the same house.’ She lifted her chin and met his liquid eyes. ‘The answer,’ she snapped, biting back her misery with a superhuman effort, ‘is an emphatic no.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  STILL blocking her exit, Vido folded his brawny arms over his exquisite waistcoat. ‘I’m sorry that what happened between us in the past has affected you so deeply,’ he observed with a frown.

  ‘How can you say that?’ she fended, making a good job of avoiding a straight answer.

  He gave a very Italian shrug of his shoulders. ‘If it meant nothing, you’d see this as a great opportunity. Perhaps you are scared,’ he murmured, ‘that I might mistreat you as your grandfather mistreated my mother and the rest of his staff?’

  Her glare would have withered a more sensitive man.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she scoffed. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  Truth to tell, she was scared of herself. Of her feelings. And aghast at the way her emotions were tossed around like stir-fry in a pan whenever he fixed her with that sultry stare. Scared, too, of the raw burning inside her that was clamouring to be eased by a highly carnal hour or so with him.

  ‘Then I don’t see the problem.’ Steel hardened his expression. ‘Are you worried, maybe,’ he mocked, ‘that I might live up to the criminal record you gave me and steal the contents of your purse?’

  ‘Not now,’ she flung back. ‘Not now that you’ve somehow made your fortune—’

  ‘Surprising,’ he drawled, ‘how much contempt you managed to get into that word “somehow”.’

  She sucked in an angry breath. He deserved her contempt. ‘Can’t you see? We’d be scoring points off one another all the time. And Grandpa would never set foot in this house knowing that you now own it.’

  ‘Ah. That is a problem,’ he admitted. ‘How long before he’s out of hospital?’

  ‘Next week, we hope, if things go well. If I can find the money, he’ll go to a nursing home to convalesce before he comes home—’

  ‘By which time,’ Vido said, ‘you’d be settled here. It’s time he put your interests first. He’s had a lifetime of having his own way.’