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‘You obviously handled Buchanen well earlier. He can be a difficult man to deal with.’
She whirled around and tried to gauge his expression but it was hidden in the shadows of the hall. He certainly didn’t look ready to ravish her. He looked remote and utterly unperturbed. And why did she feel so confused about that? She tried to remember what he’d said—he had no problem keeping his hands off her, and she … she felt like some kind of lust-crazed schoolgirl.
Dante looked at her, remembering how Buchanen had cornered her after the dinner and how, despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to intervene. But when he had come over, Buchanen had been laughing heartily and was obviously finding Alicia to be quite inoffensive. Why should it surprise him that she’d handled Buchanen so well? After all, wasn’t this exactly what he’d wanted?
Alicia unconsciously lifted her chin. ‘Funnily enough, Tom told me that his wife also trained as a nurse, so we had a lot in common, actually.’
Dante raised an incredulous brow. Tom? Who would have thought? He recalled the way she’d been so warm, and then the way she’d shut down when he’d interrupted them. The way that had made him feel. His voice felt tight. ‘Just watch that you don’t lead him on to thinking you’ve got more to offer than just conversation.’
Alicia bit back a shocked gasp but hit back. ‘God forbid. I suppose as your partner I’m going to have to get used to people thinking I’m some vacuous arm orna—’
His hand snaked out in a heartbeat and wrapped itself around the back of her neck, fingers twisting strands of her hair and tugging. ‘Ah, ah, Alicia, no need to go for the low blow.’
She held her head stiff. She hated him. Hated him for being the reason that she stood here now, a mass of quivering confusion and swirling feelings. ‘What can I say; you bring out the worst in me.’
He abruptly released her and she nearly staggered back, she had held herself so stiff under his hand.
‘I had no idea you worked in that place.’
She wanted to curl inwards; her lower back throbbed as if her pain was tangible.
Dante saw the shutters come down and wondered again what had happened to her. This aspect of Alicia he hadn’t counted on. And certainly not the uncomfortable contradictions it threw up.
She forced a nonchalant shrug. ‘You never asked.’ He opened his mouth and she spoke quickly. ‘Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk about it.’
He inclined his head and for a split second she saw a flash of something in his eyes—some flame, or fire—and her heart beat quickly in response, but then it was gone.
He stepped back, hands in his pockets. ‘We’re conducting our meetings in the Villa Monastero in Varenna, which is directly across the lake. Boats will be taking us back and forth every day. You should come over with Patricia, meet us for lunch. Tomorrow is the only day we’ll work till evening, after that it’ll be just the mornings with the afternoons free for sightseeing. A boat will be at your disposal.’
‘O … OK.’ Her head swirled again with the enormity of being here with him amidst all this wealth and luxury that seemed to come so naturally.
‘Goodnight, Alicia.’
‘Goodnight,’ she said faintly, and watched him go into his room without a backward glance. She leant back on the closed door of her own room, the moon outside shedding the only light. Damn the man. She had a strong suspicion—a feeling—that she was being lulled into a false sense of security.
But that night, with the knowledge that he lay only feet away, possibly naked, Alicia hardly slept a wink. And made sure to watch from her window in the morning until a certain tall, dark figure had leapt aboard one of the two launches and left for the ornate white villa visible through the haze across the lake. Only then did she go downstairs. And was it her fanciful imagination or had he looked up to her window just as the launch had been pulling away?
That evening, as his boat approached the shore and the wooden walkway that led up to his villa, Dante’s blood boiled. Alicia hadn’t come over to meet them for lunch. Neither had Patricia, a reasonable voice pointed out. And they’d actually only stopped in the end for half an hour, but still … he’d found himself distracted. Which was not normal for him. He didn’t like not knowing what she was up to. He told himself it was because he didn’t trust her. He sprang down on to the stones from the walkway, he could see shapes on the terrace ahead of him.
The boats were back. Alicia felt her heart quicken. Patricia’s light conversation made it easy to tune out a little and she was aware of footsteps crunching on the stones coming closer and closer. Alicia could feel her breath shorten. She’d wanted to go over to the Villa Monastero for lunch, not wanting to give Dante any excuse for further condemnation, but Patricia had insisted on doing some sightseeing, telling her that the men would never notice their absence and that Dante had probably only been courteous in extending the invitation. With no means of contacting him, she’d felt very keenly that he’d misinterpret her actions as being rebellious in some way.
‘Ah, Dante, there you are.’ Patricia rose gracefully to gre
et Dante with a kiss on both cheeks. ‘Your lovely Alicia has been the most charming company all day.’
‘Has she indeed?’
Alicia stood too, aware that it was only she who heard the hard inflection in his voice. Buchanen and the others were arriving behind them, Derek coming to greet his wife also. Alicia was dismayed by Dante’s autocratic manner, the light in his eyes, so that when he reached for her and pulled her in tight against him he caught her unawares.
His voice was low, intimate. ‘I missed you, my love. You were supposed to come and meet us for lunch …’ He caught a tendril of hair and twisted it around one finger and tugged gently. ‘Playing games, Alicia?’
She shook her head, mesmerized by his eyes. And then some measure of sanity returned with the hubbub around them, with the knowledge that he was merely making it look authentic.
‘No, Dante. I didn’t realize that it had been an order. I don’t respond well to orders.’ Her mouth was set in a mutinous line and Dante had one clear desire, one way to eradicate the irritation in his blood.
The kiss was harsh, all consuming. And brief, but not brief enough to stop Alicia’s pulse soaring or her cheeks flushing.
He stopped and lifted his head. All she could see was dark eyes, a dark face, a cruel smile. It was time to make his intentions clear. ‘Then take this how you want—by the end of this week we are going to be lovers.’
