The Mediterranean Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain (10 page)

T
HAT EVENING AT
dinner Alicia tried to eat her wild mushroom soup, pulling again at the top which kept slipping down her shoulder. She had changed purely because the skirt and camisole top had felt too flimsy, too revealing, but this was almost worse.

Dante felt prickly and irritable. He'd spent the afternoon castigating himself for insisting on bringing this woman here. And all the very good,
valid
reasons for bringing her here had immediately jumped out at him, not least of which was the fact that he still didn't trust her or her sister an inch. But he knew, if he was honest with himself, that all of his reasons were about as rock-solid as he'd wish to make them. If he didn't desire her as much as he did, and if that top fell off her shoulder one more time—he stopped his fevered thoughts—then he knew she wouldn't be here, it was as simple as that.

Alicia put down her spoon and yanked the top up again, but already the material was making its treacherous descent. She sighed and gave up. She heard an inarticulate sound and looked up to see Dante staring at her with such intensity that her insides melted.

‘What…what is it?'

‘Leave your top alone,' he gritted out.

Alicia felt confused for a second. ‘My…oh…'

And as if on cue, the shoulder of the light golden silk top slipped again, baring her down to her upper arm. Alicia had hummed and hawed before picking it out of the bag earlier. It had been the next most casual thing in there, along with the linen trousers. She wasn't able to wear a bra as its design was meant to show off the shoulders.

His voice sounded tortured. ‘It's meant to fall like that.'

Dio! Didn't she know that?

Alicia's stomach felt tight. ‘I know that. I'm just trying not to look like some half naked wanton as we eat dinner. I'd be much happier in my own clothes—'

Dante shuddered delicately. ‘No. They should be burned.'

Alicia rolled her eyes. ‘I mean my real own clothes. My suitcase didn't make the journey home.
That's
why I had a limited wardrobe to choose from. I did a big clear out before going to Africa and, as Melanie is about five inches taller than me, her clothes swamp me. It might be hard to believe, but I'm not a total hick, Dante.'

The hand which held his spoon fell back to the plate and he frowned lightly.

All of a sudden, all she could see and think about was how handsome and compelling Dante looked dressed, in a black shirt and dark trousers. She chattered to fill the silence. ‘I mean, you must wear jeans sometimes. T-shirts?'

‘That's the first time you've said my name.'

‘Didn't your—
what?
'

‘The first time you've said my name.'

So she had. And it had come out easily—too easily—without thinking. Familiarly. Alicia shrugged and the feel of a light breeze on her bare skin made her shiver slightly. She focused on her soup. ‘Well, I'm going to have to get used to it. I presume I can't be calling you Mr D'Aquanni in front of the others…'

Dante studied her downbent head, the silken mass of corkscrew curls pulled back and up in a haphazard knot, showing the clean, elegant lines of her neck. When she'd said his name it had reached out and curled itself around his senses, pulling on them with sensual promise.

‘No,' he said and his voice was curt. His eyes rested on the tempting, smooth curve of that bare shoulder and he shifted in his seat. A heavy tension seemed to envelop them as neither spoke, and it was only when Julieta came in with the next course that Alicia felt she could breathe again.

 

‘Come out to the terrace; Julieta will serve us coffee there.'

It didn't sound as if she had a choice. Alicia stood and preceded Dante out of the dining room. Again, she had that sensation of déjà vu. Only a couple of days ago she had fainted at the man's feet in this very hall and now she was dressed in silk and linen, walking out to the terrace to take some after dinner coffee. She was very aware of him behind her. Her skin prickled and she felt goosebumps come up.

The air outside was warm and silky. Still. It was so quiet and the lake looked so beautiful in the lingering dusk that it took Alicia's attention away from her situation for a second. She went and rested her hands on the wall, breathing in the scent of fragrant flowers, and felt some kind of weight lift from her shoulders, which was a bizarre sensation to admit to, here, with him.

‘It's beautiful, isn't it?'

She looked up at the man beside her. His face was transfixed, totally relaxed. Her breath was taken all over again, as much with her rogue imagination as anything else. ‘Yes.' And she knew she wasn't talking about the lake.

He looked down at her and she coloured, mortified to be caught staring. A mocking glint in his dark eyes drove her away from the wall and she chose a single seat behind them. She was burningly aware of the way the fabric of the top felt against her bare breasts. It felt…bold, but also sensuous, like going skinny dipping. Dante kept looking at her, she could feel it as she resolutely looked the other way and crossed her arms over her chest to disguise the betraying steepling of her nipples.

Julieta appeared with coffee and Alicia helped her with the tray, relaxing for a moment in the other woman's easy presence. When she handed Dante his cup, he came and took it with a funny look on his face.

Alicia quickly took a big gulp from her own cup and winced, gasping in pain as the hot liquid burnt her still sensitive mouth from where she'd burned it only that morning. She put down the cup with a clatter. Dante was beside her instantly.

‘What is it?'

Alicia shook her head, her eyes smarting. ‘I burnt my mouth this morning and just got it again…I'm fine, really.'

Dante was hunched down beside her, looking up, a hand on her knee. The pain faded in Alicia's mouth as all she could seem to feel was her heart thumping heavily, loudly, in the silence. He was looking up at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes, his hand heavy on her leg, burning through her clothes. Alicia's heart clenched.
Oh, no, please…

Dante stood with lithe grace and pulled her up with him. Their bodies were very close. Both his hands went around the back of her head, her jaw. She couldn't breathe. Her hands were clenched by her sides. Arms rigid.

‘What…what are you doing? I'm fine.'

He shook his head softly, the burning light in his eyes drowning out any coherent thought in Alicia's head. ‘Just checking…Open your mouth.'

Stupidly, Alicia did. She felt foggy, heavy…

‘Show me your tongue.'

Stupidly, she did that too.

It was the sight of that small pink tongue that drove him over the edge. His thumb snagged her lower lip, her tongue darted back in and a flush stained her cheeks. He could feel her breathing change, grow more rapid. The pulse in her neck beat frantically against his wrist.

‘Dante…really, I'm a nurse. It's nothing.'

‘
This…
is not nothing.'

Alicia knew he wasn't talking about her mouth being burnt. She was valiantly clinging on to the hope and belief that he was, though, clinging on to it right up until his head descended and his mouth settled over hers.

At the moment their mouths touched Alicia felt a sigh move through her—a sigh of inevitability. And a fierce exultant force that terrified her. So here was the evidence—he did find her attractive. One arm was wrapped around her back pulling her into him and the other hand threaded through her hair to cup the back of her head, tilting and angling her so that he could plunder her mouth. And that was what it felt like. She was being
plundered
right to the tips of her toes.

Her hands had to hold on to something and she found herself clasping his waist, the trim lean lines. His belly was hard and taut against her breasts which seemed to swell in direct response. It was as if she were literally flowering beneath this man's touch. His tongue touched hers, stroked and danced. Drawing back, he nipped gently on her lower lip before returning and making her feel so boneless with mounting need that she couldn't stop herself trembling uncontrollably.

He drew back and looked down. She found it hard to look up, her head heavy. It was as if she were drugged, incapable of moving, thinking, could hardly open her eyes.

Then a gust of slightly cooler evening air danced between them and it was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown in her face. She stiffened and pulled out of his arms and, taken aback with the suddenness of her movement, he let her go. It was all very clear to Alicia right now. What she needed to remember, what she'd forgotten in a shockingly short amount of time.

She looked up to Dante's face and willed herself to stand tall, strong, when everything in her wanted to hurl herself back into his arms and beg him to kiss her again.

‘I don't know what just happened there—'

He advanced with a dangerous look on his face. ‘I can show you if you like.' He clearly didn't like the direction things were going. Alicia retreated around the back of the seat and gripped it. Her top slid off her shoulder again.

‘That won't be happening again. Just because you have me here as a result of extenuating circumstances, just because you've dressed me, does not mean that I am available sexually. I am not interested, do you hear me? I will not be used like this just because it's…it's easy or convenient.'

Dante regarded the woman in front of him. Two spots of high colour marked her cheeks, her mouth looked like a ripe, moist fruit…Her hair was coming undone, tendrils of curls falling in sexy disarray. He felt anything but easy or convenient right now. He felt hot and wanted very much to take her back into his arms and slake that sizzling in his veins.
Dio.
When he thought about that night with Alessandra Macchi, the desire he had felt for her wouldn't even register a blip on this radar.

He had no doubt in his mind that he would indeed be taking Alicia Parker to bed. She was here now, his for a month. Plenty of time. She wouldn't last more than a week with this heat burning up the air around them.

So he ignored the rampant pulse in his trousers and smiled urbanely. ‘Please forgive me. Of course I wouldn't want you to feel anything but a happy guest while you're here.'

Alicia looked at him suspiciously.
A happy guest?
Hardly. More like an executive prisoner. He was up to something. The silk of the top chafed against tight nipples and she fought against looking down to see if they were as prominent as they felt. She had to get out of there. Now.

‘If that's all, it's been a long day; I'm going to go to bed.'

Dante nodded and gestured with an arm. Bidding her goodnight, he watched her walk away. His face changed in an instant into an expression so brooding and intense that if she had turned back and seen it she would have run for the hills.

F
OR THE NEXT
couple of days the villa was transformed from an oasis of calm to a hive of activity as caterers, more household staff, gardeners and security men all worked to get things ready for the arrival of the VIPs. Alicia wandered around, thankful that Dante seemed to be firmly ensconsed in his office most of the time, no doubt preparing for the conference. Ducking out of the way of two men carrying in a huge display of exotically coloured blue flowers, she followed them curiously. She'd been too intimidated so far to explore too much but now she followed the men into a huge dining room. She gasped with pure delight. The walls were an exquisite shade of blue and the ceiling was made up of panels of reflective glass. It was so unusual, she'd never seen anything like it in her life. It was all at once decadent,
old
and inherently modern.

The men had stopped and were holding the display awkwardly near the huge table, which dominated the room. They looked at her expectantly and one of them said something.

Alicia looked back at them, had she missed something? ‘
Scusi…
I don't speak Italian. Would you like to see the housekeeper?'

A dryly amused voice came from close behind her, making her jump.

‘They think you're the mistress of the villa; they want to know where to put the flowers.'

Alicia's breath was momentarily driven from her lungs when she looked at Dante. It was the first time she'd seen him all day. And for the first time he was dressed down, in jeans and a shirt. Her pulse jumped to vibrant life. She swung her gaze back to the men and tried to smile, shaking her head. ‘No…no.' Attempting to show in sign language that she and Dante weren't man and wife, she only ended up with two…three laughing men looking at her. Dante said a few rapid words and the delivery men left the flowers in the middle of the table and walked out shaking their heads, still laughing.

Alicia crossed her arms and tilted her head back, barriers springing up rapidly. ‘Is it always this amusing making fun of foreigners?'

He surprised her by taking her hand and leading her into the room, and heat travelled up her arm. Alicia followed Dante with her heart in her mouth. His hand was huge and warm around hers. And his familiar action threatened to crumble those precious barriers. Her mind worked overtime; he must be using another tactic, getting her used to his touch so that when the others arrived—

‘This room is the oldest in the villa.'

Alicia looked away from him reluctantly, seriously afraid that he was going to pounce. ‘It is beautiful. I haven't been in here before.'

Dante gestured up to the ceiling. ‘Those panels have been there since the mid sixteenth century—Venetian glass—and that blue on the walls is such an unusual colour because it too is from that time.'

‘Wow…' Alicia breathed, her mind distracted but her body still very aware of her hand clasped in his. His hard palms surprised her again, made her think of how they had felt on her breast, how they might feel elsewhere. She forced her rampant imagination to cool down. ‘You're very lucky to have grown up with such a wealth of culture.'

He dropped her hand abruptly and moved away, his head rearing back. Alicia felt bewildered—what had she said?

Dante's face was like granite. ‘You keep alluding to my so-called
background;
you obviously didn't bother too hard to check the facts when you came looking for me.'

Alicia was seriously nonplussed now. She shook her head. ‘I'm sorry; I don't know what you mean.'

Dante flicked a glance around the room and gave a short harsh laugh. ‘This villa isn't
my
family home; I bought it just three years ago. All of my homes are recent acquisitions.' His mouth tightened as if he was trying to stop himself. He waged an inner battle that was only too apparent in the harsh glint of his eyes and a pulse beating in his temple as he said finally, ‘I don't come from this, Alicia, much as it might be more palatable to you. I come from the streets of Naples, where you fight for a space, a corner. And that is your home. Was my home.'

‘So please don't presume to know what I grew up with, because it was light years away from a place like this…'

Alicia wanted to bite her tongue, swallow back the words. She put out a hand instinctively but he just moved further away. ‘I'm sorry, Dante; I had no idea.'

‘No, because you're like everyone else—eager to capitalize on the wealth that is so conveniently available to you now. Who cares where it came from,
si?
'

She swallowed convulsively. ‘That's not fair. I don't care how you made your money. I would never have come after you if I hadn't thought it was the only option.'

The injured look in her eyes was making him feel claustrophobic.

‘Yes, well, you did and you're here now. I have some work to return to.'

He strode from the room and turned at the door, a very cynical twist to his mouth, ‘By the way, your clothes will be here tomorrow morning and a driver will be outside in half an hour to take you into Bellagio; I've booked you into a local beauty salon for the afternoon.'

And, with those curtly delivered words, he was gone, leaving Alicia reeling. And, ridiculously, all she could think about was how insulting it was that he believed she needed an entire afternoon in a beauty salon.

 

Dante went straight outside and gulped in big lungfuls of air. Damn it.
What the hell had just happened there?
His hands were fisted on his hips, tension radiated in waves off his body, keeping the workers milling around him at a distance.

Why hadn't he just spilled his guts out entirely? Why stop at telling her the bare bones of the dismal truth of growing up on the streets?

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.

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 thought 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.