The Italian's Ruthless Marriage Command (HQR Presents)

by Helen Bianchin

  She subjected him to an encompassing appraisal, noting his broad-boned facial features, startling dark eyes, the generous mouth…the wide shoulders beneath superb tailoring, his tall, lithe frame whose height surpassed her own by several inches.

  He looked precisely the man he’d become…powerful, ruthless. Lethal. Not someone with whom to tangle.

  Yet she’d seen him in a lighter mood, caught his smile, witnessed his warmth with Casey…the affectionate camaraderie he’d shared with Leon. His gentleness with Ben.

  There had been a time when she’d felt at ease in his company and wondered if something more might develop between them, had it not been for an assault by an intruder a year after Ben’s birth that had left her both physically and emotionally scarred…something which resulted in her avoiding a relationship with any man, especially a man as vital as Dante.

  ‘You travel extensively,’ Taylor pursued. ‘How can you tuck him into bed each night and read him a bedtime story,’ she protested, ‘or be there to listen to his dreams and fears, hug him when he’s sad and share his laughter?’ She was on a roll, passionate in her concern and despairing of finding a solution to the adequate care of her dearly loved nephew.

  ‘An alternative is for Ben to reside several months with you,’ Dante offered, ‘followed by equal time with me.’

  The green flecks in her hazel eyes became more evident, and reminded Dante of the lush green foliage protecting the succulent grapes ripening in his Tuscan vineyard.

  ‘How will uprooting him every few months provide him with any stability?’ Taylor queried with agonised disbelief. ‘He’s just a little boy.’

  ‘Who will receive the devoted adoration of his grandmother, and the care of a highly qualified nanny,’ Dante informed with calm patience, and saw the pulse at the base of her throat quicken in agitation. ‘I’m prepared to offer you open visitation rights, together with an all-expenses-paid trip to Florence,’ he continued, ‘including accommodation while Ben is in my care, to ensure your satisfaction he is happily ensconced in his new environment.’

  Dante’s voice held a subtle silkiness which she appeared to ignore, and he wondered if she knew the full extent of his power.

  He regarded her carefully. ‘Consideration for Ben’s education must be addressed.’ He paused fractionally, then offered, ‘There is the option of a reputable boarding school.’

  ‘No,’ Taylor refuted swiftly.

  There was a tense silence, one the lawyer attempted to breach with a placating spread of his hands, which Dante chose to ignore as Taylor fixed him with an appealing look.

  ‘Is it of no consequence that I’ve had constant contact with Ben since he was born, and love him as much as if he were my own?’

  Dante leant back in his chair and steepled his fingers. ‘If this is so, I take it you’re prepared to do anything to ensure his comfort, his happiness?’

  He reminded her of a jungle cat, all lithe power and the ever-present threat of the moment he would strike.

  ‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation.

  Dante subjected her to an unwavering scrutiny. ‘Given neither of us will agree to sole custody with open visitation rights, do you have a sensible suggestion to offer?’

  Hadn’t she worried herself sick trying to come up with sensible…and failed miserably?

  ‘Whatever decision we make has to benefit Ben.’

  ‘On that we agree,’ Dante revealed quietly as he shifted his attention to the lawyer. ‘The wills cite shared custody. Is this correct?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘And is it not true that equal and share, in legal terminology, do not have the same meaning?’

  A faint frown creased the lawyer’s forehead. ‘Not precisely.’

  ‘In which case, it could be argued as a literal interpretation?’ Dante sensed the sudden stillness in Taylor’s body language.

  ‘Where are you going with this?’

  He shifted his attention and caught the edge of suspicion sharpening her eyes. ‘We’ve explored the available options, and failed to agree on any one of them.’ He didn’t give her time to offer so much as a word as he pursued, ‘I propose we share custody of Ben in the same home. This way he will have the best of care and we will both be a constant in his life.’

  Taylor’s lips parted, then closed again. ‘That’s the most ridiculous suggestion I’ve ever heard,’ she said shakily. ‘Even if it were viable, my apartment is too small to accommodate you.’

  His mouth curved into a faint smile, and was totally at variance with the stillness evident in his dark, almost black eyes.

  ‘As it happens I have a property available for immediate occupancy at Watson’s Bay,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘It’s a double-storeyed residence with seven bedrooms situated on an upper level divided into two separate wings. Two individual offices, a home gym, indoor pool. There’s also separate accommodation for a live-in housekeeper.’ He spared her a conciliatory look. ‘Sharing the same house shouldn’t prove too difficult. You’ll have primary care of Ben when I’m overseas on business, and from your perspective very little will change.’

  You think? She could only look at him in a state of speechlessness.

  ‘It negates each of your objections,’ Dante informed silkily. ‘Ben remains in Sydney in your care for seventy-five per cent of the time, with all of the advantages I’m able to provide.’

  The lawyer shifted his attention to Taylor. ‘Mr d’Alessandri’s suggestion is exceedingly generous.’

  Why did she have the unshakable feeling she’d been very cleverly manipulated by a master strategist?

  Taylor cast Dante a dazed look, torn by numerous emotions, none of which resembled calm. ‘I’ll need to think about it.’

  She turned to the lawyer, thanked him, then she stood and moved towards the door.

  Dante reached it before she did, and she was powerless to prevent the feathery sensation scudding down her spine as he accompanied her to the bank of lifts.

  ‘I’d like to see my nephew as soon as possible.’

  She’d expected the request. ‘Ben is in kindergarten today,’ she relayed evenly.

  ‘From where you’re due to collect him when?’

  ‘Three o’clock,’ Taylor revealed with deceptive calm.

  The lift arrived and she was supremely conscious of his presence in the confined space. Her eyes were level with the generous curve of his mouth, and the faint exclusive tones of his cologne teased her senses.

  She’d felt relaxed in Leon’s presence, whereas Dante exuded a brooding sensuality that had always threatened her peace of mind.

  Like you care? a tiny voice prompted. You have every reason to distrust men, remember?

  A tiny shiver slid down her spine. As if she could ever forget.

  She didn’t recall holding her breath during the lift’s descent, although she must have done so unconsciously, for she measured its release as she stepped into the foyer.

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  The question came out of left field, and she looked at him in startled surprise. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘We need to formulate arrangements regarding Ben’s welfare.’

  She opened her mouth to protest, only to have him continue smoothly, ‘Why not share a meal while we do so?’

  ‘It doesn’t have to encompass lunch.’

  Dante paused as they reached the pavement. ‘You’d prefer we adjourn to your apartment?’

  No. The negation was a silent scream inside her head, and it took a few seemingly long seconds to summon her voice to project a polite veneer. ‘There are a few cafés close by,’ she acquiesced evenly, and missed the slight hardening in his eyes. ‘Perhaps a sandwich and coffee?’

  He led her to a restaurant, and ignored her protest as the maître d’ seated them.

  ‘I dislike—’

  ‘Not having total control?’ Dante intercepted with deceptive mildness, and caught the way her eyes flared green.

  �
��It’s something at which you appear to excel,’ Taylor said, tongue firmly in cheek.

  He accepted the wine list, and requested her preference.

  ‘Iced water is fine.’ Her tolerance level was diminishing by the second. Any minute soon she’d be tempted to toss the contents of her glass in his face.

  ‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ he said quietly, as if again reading her mind, and speared her with a look that promised retribution.

  She collected her bag and stood, only to stifle an audible gasp as his hand closed over her wrist.

  ‘Sit. Please,’ he added.

  She glared at him. ‘Give me one reason why I should.’

  ‘Ben.’

  The little boy’s image filled her mind, his solemn saddened eyes…and knew she’d give anything to provide a happy, healthy life for him. ‘It will never work.’

  ‘Lunch?’

  Taylor gave him an exasperated look. ‘Sharing the same house.’

  ‘As far as Ben is concerned, given all your reasons, it’s the best option.’

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again as the waiter appeared to take their order.

  Dammit, she hadn’t even looked at the menu, let alone made a selection.

  ‘Taylor?’

  She met the silent challenge in his gaze, hesitated, then ordered a Caesar salad, and waited until they were alone before venturing, ‘You employ unfair tactics.’ She lifted the goblet of iced water, took a sip, then carefully replaced it.

  To his credit he didn’t attempt to misunderstand. ‘Had it been my initial suggestion, you would have immediately dismissed it out of hand.’

  ‘I have yet to agree,’ she ventured, and held his measured look.

  ‘Common sense ensures you will.’

  Her eyes sharpened. ‘And if I don’t?’

  Dante took his time before answering, ‘Then you leave me no option but to lodge an application to formally adopt Ben.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  SHOCK dilated Taylor’s eyes, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

  ‘You can’t do that,’ she managed shakily. ‘Such an action would contravene Leon and Casey’s will.’

  Dante’s features held a compelling quality, and a chill shiver feathered the length of her spine.

  ‘Leon’s lawyer is witness to you declining each solution I presented.’ His voice held a silky softness that was totally lacking in arrogance, yet there was a dangerous quality evident beneath the surface. ‘Unless you choose to reverse your decision, you leave me little option but to take the matter to court.’

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. At the very least she wanted to hit him, and if a mere look could kill he’d be dead.

  ‘Such a move would involve time and a large amount of money,’ Dante enlightened smoothly.

  She owned her apartment, her car, and was debt-free, thanks to the popularity of her work. But when it came to wealth, Dante d’Alessandri won hands down.

  ‘Do you particularly want to go that route?’ he pursued silkily. ‘Subject Ben to unwarranted stress and trauma? Fund exhaustive legal fees?’ He waited a beat. ‘What will it achieve, other than an exercise in futility?’

  ‘Except at the end of the day you win.’ She attempted to keep the faint bitterness out of her voice, and was unsure she succeeded.

  His eyes remained steady, inviolate. ‘This is about Ben,’ he reminded quietly. ‘And what’s best for him.’

  It didn’t help that he was right. Or that she viewed his threatened alternative of adoption as totally unconscionable.

  There was no way she’d allow that to happen, although she refused to give in easily without protest.

  The waiter delivered their meal, and Taylor looked at the salad, contemplated her plate and wondered if she’d be able to eat so much as a morsel.

  ‘I don’t want to share a house with you.’ And if you comment I’m the first woman to say that, I’ll hit you.

  He looked at her carefully, caught the fast-beating pulse at the base of her throat, and his eyes narrowed fractionally.

  ‘There’s a boyfriend on the scene who will object?’

  A fleeting darkness clouded her eyes, then it was gone. ‘No.’ Betrayed trust ensured true friends were limited to a few, and acquaintances kept at a distance.

  Interpreting body language and subtle nuances in the human voice was an art in which he excelled…an invaluable asset in the cut and thrust of international business dealings.

  It took, Dante mused, an accomplished actress trained to submerge her own personality in order to assume that of the character she was contracted to play.

  And somehow he doubted Taylor was playing a part. Yet he’d stake his reputation on there being something responsible for her chosen façade…even allowing for recent grief, and Ben’s welfare.

  ‘And you, Dante? Won’t your current mistress protest at your proposed live-in arrangement with another woman?’

  ‘No.’

  Just…no?

  ‘Eat,’ Dante bade and he began doing justice to the food on his plate.

  The salad looked delicious…although her nerves were stretched too taut to appreciate the taste of food.

  She declined dessert and settled for coffee, sweet, black and strong, aware it was also Dante’s choice, and when the waiter presented the bill she reached for her wallet…only to have Dante refuse her offer to pay her share.

  ‘There’s enough time to check out the house before we collect Ben.’

  House? We? ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘We have an hour and a half,’ he enlightened as he ushered her out onto the pavement. All it took was a brief conversation via his mobile phone, and within minutes a black Mercedes slid in to the kerb.

  Dante opened a door, ushered her into the rear seat, then he crossed round the vehicle and slipped in beside her, introduced his driver, Gianni, with friendly ease. Given Dante’s reputed ruthlessness in the business arena, she assumed he’d appear businesslike with his staff, and she sat in silence as he issued instructions to an address in Watson’s Bay, one of Sydney’s luxurious suburbs offering widespread panoramic harbour views.

  House was a misnomer. Mansion seemed a more adequate description, Taylor conceded as the Mercedes swept through high, ornate remotely operated steel gates, circled a wide driveway and eased to a halt beneath a wide portecochère protecting broad double entrance doors of steel-strutted solid patterned wood.

  Double-storeyed, the building resembled a Tuscan villa, with a cream and terra-cotta tiled roof, cream stucco exterior walls and, she saw when she entered the large lobby, cream marble floor tiles, beautiful rugs and solid mahogany furniture.

  A middle-aged woman came forward to greet them. Dante introduced her as Anna, whose husband, Claude, maintained the grounds.

  There were oil paintings gracing the walls, an elegant, sweeping double staircase, and a sparkling crystal chandelier hung suspended from a tall ceiling.

  Taylor was supremely conscious of Dante’s close proximity as he showed her through the house.

  The subtle tones of his cologne teased her senses, and, although he made no attempt at physical contact, she disliked the prickle of awareness stealing through her body.

  She covered it well, making appropriate comments as they moved through the ground-level rooms, all of which were spacious, beautifully furnished, before moving to the upper level, which did, as Dante had indicated, contain two distinct wings, each containing guest suites with adjoining en suites. There was also a media room, a family lounge and two home offices.

  It was, Taylor had to concede, a beautiful home, complemented by landscaped grounds, a large swimming pool with entry from the side of the house and completely enclosed with a solar-tinted glass roof and glass-panelled external walls.

  There was no valid reason why Dante’s suggested living arrangement couldn’t work…with certain iron-clad provisos.

  ‘Any reservations you’d care to voice?’ Dante queried as they began descendi
ng the staircase, and she met his dark, probing look with equanimity.

  ‘A few.’

  ‘Then let’s hear them.’

  She paused on one step and turned towards him, aware he copied her action.

  ‘I want to make it very clear Ben is the only reason I’ll accept your suggestion.’

  ‘So noted.’

  ‘The live-in arrangement is strictly business,’ she offered, and lifted a hand to cover the tell-tale thud at the base of her throat, ‘with all that statement implies.’

  Dante looked at her for a long moment, aware she held his gaze with determined resolve, almost silently daring him to be the first to glance away.

  Yet beneath the resolve he sensed unaccustomed wariness and a degree of fragility. Coupled with innate reserve, it was an interesting mix.

  ‘You have nothing to fear from me,’ he drawled, and saw a delicate pink tinge her cheeks an instant before she turned away and began stepping quickly down the stairs.

  Dante checked his watch, alerted Gianni, then he followed Taylor down into the lobby and led the way to the waiting Mercedes.

  It was a relatively trouble-free run from Vaucluse to Double Bay, and Dante turned slightly towards her as the car slid into a parking bay adjacent the kindergarten. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  She could hardly refuse without sounding churlish, and she managed a polite response. ‘Ben will be pleased to see you.’

  Dante’s presence drew attention as they crossed towards the kindergarten entrance, his tall, broad, impeccably tailored frame a stand-out from the few males gathered waiting to collect children.

  Within minutes the outer door opened, and a carer took up position to ensure each child was collected by their designated parent or grandparent.

  Taylor effected an introduction, drew attention to the fact she’d previously noted Dante as Ben’s legal guardian, whereupon relevant details were checked on the call-sheet, together with Dante’s mobile-phone number.

  ‘Please alter the residential address,’ Dante informed, and gave it. ‘Effective from today,’ he added smoothly.

  Excuse me?

  ‘Isn’t this a little precipitate?’ she said quietly as they moved aside, and incurred his dark gaze.