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Two days under his roof: he desired her and now he wanted to tell her about himself? Why had her assumption that he’d grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth made him lash out like that? He didn’t care what people thought. Not any more. He was proud of his roots, made no real secret of it. If anything, he was feted for it by those who knew. Not always for the right reasons, though. He’d seen the way women looked at him—women from a certain social class, hungrily, with covetous lust, attracted to the untamed part of him. It turned his stomach.
And she … she was no better than any of them. She was the same. But she was more dangerous. Because, somehow, she was getting under his skin in a way that hadn’t happened in a long time. So long, in fact, that he could remember exactly when. That had been the major lesson in his life. Not learning to survive among the gangs in Naples, not protecting his younger brother, not even becoming a billionaire with homes on practically every continent. He had learnt his most valuable lesson at the hands of a woman and he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
He turned back to the villa. He could handle this, could handle her. Was he really scared of being made a fool of by a tiny five foot nothing temptress? All she was good for was warming his bed and that, he vowed, was going to happen very soon.
Alicia returned from a surprisingly enjoyable afternoon spent in the salon. Contrary to what she had feared—some kind of reality TV make over experience where she’d emerge looking like a generic bimbo complete with boob job—it had consisted of nothing more sinister than a facial, massage, pedicure, manicure and a trim. The hair stylist had waxed lyrical about her hair colour—courtesy of the African sun—her natural curls, and had barely changed a thing.
Even though there were evidently far more staff in residence now, the villa seemed to have reverted momentarily to its hushed peace, the work having stopped for the evening. Julieta greeted Alicia at the door, another beaming smile in place as she handed her a note. She smiled her thanks and took it. Opening it, the large scrawl immediately brought a dark, handsome face to mind.
I’ve had to go into Milan to tie up some last-minute arrangements. I won’t be back until shortly before the main welcome drinks tomorrow night. My assistant Alex will be arriving in the morning to oversee welcoming the guests. All you have to do is be ready for me at seven p.m., I’ll meet you in your room. Please dress appropriately for dinner. Dante.
The short sharp sentences with the bare minimum of information brought Alicia back down to earth with a thud. She had actually felt a weird and totally inappropriate sense of ownership coming back to the villa, had had a fizz of anticipation in her veins at the thoug
ht of seeing Dante again. Had even wondered if he’d notice anything different about her … if he’d like it.
She crumpled up the note and threw it in the bin in her room. She took a long hard look at herself in the mirror. To entertain any kind of softening towards Dante D’Aquanni was to invite catastrophe. She knew that now. Especially after his incendiary kisses. She couldn’t afford to forget Raul Carro. But … the awful thing was, Raul Carro was becoming harder and harder to visualize, harder and harder to remember.
Her face tightened. She couldn’t afford to forget that Dante was the same animal, albeit in different clothes. A man like him would only ever use her ruthlessly before discarding her. Wasn’t he already doing that?
Turning away from her image, her expressively wistful eyes which told another story entirely, Alicia firmly pushed Dante from her mind and went downstairs to call home. She had explained this whole situation in a very vague way to Melanie, making it sound as if she was doing Dante a favour because he needed a hostess … Melanie hadn’t seen the tabloid spread or thought to question her too much, thankfully.
After nearly an hour spent on the phone listening to her sister’s excited chatter about being discharged the next day, Alicia hung up. While she hated the power that Dante wielded in regard to her sister’s well-being, right at that moment Alicia could have wept with relief.
It was nearing seven the following evening and Alicia was in a state of high nervous tension. She’d been acutely aware of the time ticking by all day and just a short while before had heard the sound of the helicopter returning. Dante. In fact, there’d been nothing but the sound of arrivals all day, cars pulling up, the sounds of staff running up and down stairs and corridors. Frantic hushed tones. Alicia had kept well back, terrified in case anyone expected her to account for her presence there.
At nine o’clock that morning she’d opened her bedroom door to a man roughly about the same age as Dante D’Aquanni. He was blond, short and had mischievous blue eyes. He’d introduced himself as Alex, Dante’s assistant, and had told Alicia that he would be handling the meeting and greeting of all the guests. She hadn’t failed to notice the way his eyes had been very assessing, openly curious as to what on earth his boss might see in this woman.
Alicia had straightened her spine, feeling justifiably vulnerable. She had no idea what Dante may or may not have told his assistant and hated the feeling that perhaps he knew. but he had seemed nice enough and had checked in on her during the day to make sure she was being looked after. So she couldn’t fault him really.
And now the clock’s hands were nearly at seven p.m. But still she jumped when the knock came on their shared door. The walls were so thick that she hadn’t heard a movement from his room. She took a deep breath and turned away from her reflection, knowing that she’d done all she could in terms of trying to make herself presentable.
‘Come in.’
The butterflies turned into small birds beating against her chest. The door seemed to open in slow motion. He was just a dark shape at first, the light blocking him out so that for a second he could see her but she couldn’t see him.
Dante pushed open the door and felt a curious trepidation in his chest. What the hell was that? But it wouldn’t go away and, as he walked in, the evening sun moved at that split second and Alicia stood there, bathed in a halo of light. Banal words like stunning, gorgeous, came into his head, but really didn’t do her justice. She wore a deep, deep red dress. It was silk, it was strapless, it fell to her knees and had a slit up the side. It clung to soft, feminine curves. It was simple, artful and provocative enough to make him want to stride over, strip it off and lay her down on the nearby bed. His hand gripped the doorknob.
The sun shifted again, the light fading and Dante’s mouth quirked. He was seeing things, that was all. Alicia Parker scrubbed up well. That was it. He strode forward, his feelings and turbulent desires firmly under control.
Alicia felt unbelievably nervous as he came in. He’d stood there for a long moment and she hadn’t been able to see the expression on his face with the setting sun in her eyes. But now he was here, the quintessential billionaire in his tuxedo, white shirt and black bow-tie. Her breath stalled and she said very jerkily, ‘I hope this is OK; I wasn’t sure what to put on.’
Why did she have to look so damn nervous? It made all sorts of conflicting things rise up again, that control laughably crumbling.
‘It’s fine.’ He was terse. ‘What have you done to your hair?’
She put a hand up, her face flushing. ‘Should I take it down? I was trying something the hairdresser showed me yesterday.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Dante’s voice was gruff. Her hair was magnificent. Caught back and tied in a careless bun to the side, it looked sexy and chic. He put a hand on her bare shoulder, turning her around, and her skin felt soft and warm. A red diamanté hair-clip sparkled amongst the dark golden strands.
‘It’s fine,’ he repeated. ‘Let’s go or we’ll be late.’
Alicia grabbed a shawl and followed him somewhat unsteadily, unaccustomed to the high heels. At the top of the stairs he waited for her, a look of impatience on his face. Her heart sank; he still hadn’t forgiven her for her innocent assumptions. And then, as if she’d imagined it, the look disappeared and something else was there. Something … hot and unfathomable. When she reached him, he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the underside of her wrist. It felt like a shockingly intimate gesture and colour scorched her cheeks.
‘Ah, D’Aquanni, there you are!’ a voice boomed out from the bottom of the stairs and Alicia realized that they were in full view of the open door leading into the main drawing room, which in turn led into the dining room. Dante’s grip on her hand tightened. He was putting on an act, making it look genuine. That was all. Alicia felt like a prize fool. She’d actually thought for a split second. Her eyes flashed and she sent a very pointed look back at him, tightening her own fingers around his as if to say, I know it’s an act too … She smiled up at him and it was hard and brittle.
And she didn’t have time to know if she’d fooled him or not as he led her down the stairs to meet the owner of the booming voice.
CHAPTER TEN
