The Mediterranean Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain (5 page)

‘Actually, I'm not interested in what you have to say, as you're so far from the truth it's not even funny. What I am interested in, however, is this…'

And, before Alicia could ask what he meant, his mouth had landed on hers and she was transported back in time to the previous evening. Every nerve ending exploded into a tiny ball of fire. It was madness, insanity, this instantaneous effect he had.

One of his hands had found its way underneath her sweater and was climbing up over her skin, skimming her waist. Her breasts throbbed as if on cue and swelled to tight points. She wriggled as a shaft of pure arousal pulsed between her legs and Dante groaned softly against her mouth. Her heart thumped even faster, reality slipping away with an inexorability that Alicia couldn't fight.

His hand cupped one of her breasts and, with aching slowness, his thumb found and rubbed against the tight bud under its covering of lace.
Hard, not soft,
went through her overheated brain as the callused feel of his hands were an exquisite torture against her sensitive skin. Alicia's head fell back, her eyes closed. She'd never, ever felt like this before—this immediate fire that erupted and washed away any resistance. The only time she'd come close to anything like this—

Her thoughts seized to an icy halt as a memory surfaced and she stiffened. Dante's hand was seeking her other breast and Alicia was aghast to see that she'd shifted in order to offer him easier access. She seized on that painful memory and pushed with all her might against him. His arms loosened and she tumbled back and out of the seat, landing on her rear on the soft carpet.

What the hell had just happened?

She stood awkwardly, breathing heavily. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes huge. She dropped her hand and her mouth was pink, her cheeks glowing red. Dante said nothing, his face implacable, barely a hair out of place. Unmoved.

‘Don't touch me ever again. You make me sick.'

And, before he could see how much turmoil she was in, she turned and fled to the toilet at the front of the cabin, narrowly avoiding the stewardess, who appeared just then with a tray piled high with food and drinks.

After spending an inordinately long time in the bathroom splashing cold water on her face and wrists, Alicia emerged. She wondered what kind of spell this man held over her and felt sick to the stomach at the thought of facing Melanie when she'd proven herself to be no less immune to his
charms.
For a brief cataclysmic moment in there, faced with her own bewildered image, she'd actually wished that somehow he wasn't the father of Melanie's baby. She was going to be the aunt of this man's child, for goodness' sake. Her stomach had lurched ominously and she thought for a second that she'd be sick.

But when she emerged, steeled to see him again, the cabin was empty. The stewardess turned around from where she'd been laying out cutlery and plates. Alicia thought hysterically that Dante must have parachuted out in order to get away from her. The cool blonde woman cut through her thoughts. ‘Mr D'Aquanni has taken a call in the office at the back of the plane. He said to call me if you need anything. We'll be landing in a little under an hour, Ms Parker.'

Alicia nodded. She couldn't trust herself to speak. Of course the plane had an office. Silly her, she chided herself. And no doubt he was as disgusted by what had just happened as she was. Her cheeks burned as she recalled what it must have looked like. She had practically thrown herself into his arms, had all but begged him to keep going…

 

Dante sat at the back of the plane, his call having lasted only a couple of minutes. His body still hummed, his trousers still felt tight. He'd watched, uncharacteristically speechless as Alicia had walked into the bathroom. When she'd landed on his lap, in his mind's eye he'd seen very clearly what he should do—put her away from him and back to her own seat. But his arms had come around her instinctively. His lap had cupped her bottom as if it had known it from a previous existence. And the feel of her tiny, curved form had been so seductive that he'd found it nigh on impossible to remember the rage that her words had sparked within him.

But without her bewitching presence he could remember. How dared she presume to know what kind of upbringing he'd had? It had been more like an up-dragging. He'd fought and kicked every step of the way, staying on the right side of the law only by the mercy of some divine force. And if it hadn't been for Stefano Arrigi plucking him and his brother from the streets when he had, who knew where he—
they—
might have ended up…?

He cursed the woman for making him think of these things. He knew rationally that he couldn't entirely blame her as he'd never publicized his background—oh, the information was there, he couldn't move without someone commenting on it—but he'd learnt the hard way that once you had money people didn't much care how you'd got it, and yet Alicia's condemnation had cut him in a tender place. And he had no idea why. She was a complete stranger to him.

He didn't seek pity from anyone. Especially when he had such a bitter memory of the one and only time he
had
told someone the truth—a woman. And yet he felt instinctively that
this
woman would somehow empathise. Or, more accurately,
pretend
to.

He stood abruptly, making some papers fall from the desk. The sooner they got to England and sorted this farce out the better. And the sooner he made sure this woman had no recourse or claim, however bogus, on his life, the better. He vowed that within the day he would be back in his villa on Lake Como, any threat from these women nullified and eradicated.

 

Dante returned to the main cabin just as the plane was landing and Alicia studiously avoided looking anywhere near him. She trembled inside. Watching the ground below become clearer and clearer, she could make out fields, buildings, tiny cars…she realized then that she hadn't told him where to go but they were in fact circling over the Oxford area.

She turned around. ‘How did you know where to come? I never told you.'

She was relieved to see him buttoned up, suit jacket on.

‘I know because it didn't take much to find out.'

Alicia had to consciously stop her gaze from dropping to his mouth, the strong brown column of his throat. ‘Oh…'

‘You never did tell me what you want the money for exactly, or how much…You pulled your fainting stunt just before you did. Which was, no doubt, designed somewhat crudely to arouse sympathy.' His tone was conversational, bored even.

Alicia's heart hardened. The man was a bastard. She hated him. He had hurt Melanie unforgivably.

She tried to keep her voice steady but it was a struggle. Briefly, she told him of Melanie's injuries. ‘She's going to need the expert ongoing care of one of the best gynaecologists in the UK who specializes in post trauma cases, and he is only available privately. Even if we had the money, he's based in central London, so we would have to move closer in order to see him once a week. Melanie won't be able to withstand a lengthy public transport journey. He works in Harley Street. You do the maths.' She flung the last words at him in a fit of pique at his lack of expression. Tears stung her eyes again. Damn it, if Melanie or the baby suffered because of this man…She turned away in despair. She wouldn't be surprised if when they landed he threw her from the plane and closed the door only to take off, back to Italy.

Dante watched the slim column of her throat work in profile. Was she really upset or was this part of the game?
As if he had to ask.
He had thought for a brief moment of seeing her out of the plane door, closing it behind her and taking off immediately. But he knew he couldn't. Melanie Parker was a reality. She
was
associated with him. It would be an easy story to sell and he was damned if he'd let her.

He focused on his recent conversation with his assistant in Italy. They were still unable to track down his younger brother. His mouth tightened. If this pregnancy was genuine, Paolo D'Aquanni had a lot to answer for.

‘Y
OUR
sister has been conscious for a few hours now. We're cautiously optimistic that she's not going to lapse again.'

Alicia felt weak with relief. ‘And the baby?'

The ward sister nodded. ‘The baby is doing fine.' She shook her head incredulously. ‘It's a miracle really how it survived the impact of the crash but, as you know, this is only the first step. She's going to need constant care to ensure its healthy progress. It's such a relief that Paolo has managed to make the first appointment for Mel to see Dr Hardy in London in a couple of weeks. I was afraid it'd be too short notice.'

Alicia's back tensed; she felt Dante straighten beside her. She struggled to interpret the words she'd just heard. ‘What are you talking about? Who is Paolo?'

Her friend gave her a funny look. ‘Why, Mel's boyfriend, of course, silly. He arrived last night. He stayed in the chair beside her bed, absolutely besotted.' She bustled towards the ward, guiding them in. ‘She's still very weak, so maybe don't make it a long visit today, OK?'

Alicia felt herself nod dumbly. She still couldn't process the words. She was vaguely aware of Dante behind her, his hand moving to her back, propelling her forward. She moved, but didn't know how. They were in a ward of four beds, the curtains pulled around her sister's. Somehow instinctively Alicia just
knew
that everything was about to fall apart.

And when she pulled back the curtain she nearly fainted for the second time in two days.

 

‘Lissy…' Melanie's weakened voice was a thread of its normal chatty vitality but Alicia couldn't even look at her yet. She couldn't move. She stared in abject mounting horror at a younger, slightly less good looking, slightly smaller version of Dante D'Aquanni. She had to be so exhausted that she was hallucinating. That was it—extreme tiredness and stress…She raised a hand to her head.

‘Lissy? Are you OK?'

Finally she turned to look at her sister and blanched when she saw her still too pale face, one livid scar still across her forehead. But a hint of colour warmed her cheeks under the sickly pallor and the sight of her bump under the bedclothes was reassuring. Alicia nodded her head jerkily.

An autocratic hand propelled her towards a chair beside the bed. Melanie reached out a hand and took Alicia's in hers. ‘What is it? The nurses said you'd been gone since yesterday…Where did you—'

Melanie broke off and looked from Alicia to Dante D'Aquanni, who she'd just noticed. Out of the corner of her eye, Alicia saw the younger man stand, bristling.

Melanie's voice sounded strained and Alicia could see this man take her hand in support. ‘Mr D'Aquanni…What are you doing here?'

Dante stepped forward into the light and seemed to Alicia to energise the small space. ‘Your sister here seems to be under the misapprehension that I am the father of your unborn child.' Alicia couldn't be unaware of the way his glance flicked down to the bump of her sister's belly, as if to confirm for himself that she had been telling the truth.

Melanie looked at Alicia. ‘How…what…however did you get that idea?'

Alicia fought valiantly against sinking into the ground into the comfort of another dead faint. She couldn't look at Dante.

‘When I came here last week, you were feverish…I asked you who had done this to you and all you said was, “Dante D'Aquanni,” his was the only name you mentioned…You said you'd been on your way to see him. You asked me to find him for you…'

‘I did?'

Alicia smiled sadly. This wasn't Melanie's fault. ‘You probably don't remember.'

Melanie groaned and glanced at the young man beside her shyly. ‘I
had
been on my way to see Mr D'Aquanni.' She glanced at him then with a little trepidation. ‘But it was only to ask him to bring back Paolo…'

‘Paolo…' Alicia repeated dumbly.

Dante spoke then, and Alicia flinched slightly at the harshness of his tone. ‘Paolo D'Aquanni—the man your sister was having an affair with at the office. My
brother.
'

His words seemed to come from far away. Alicia looked across at Paolo. ‘So you're…'

Melanie squeezed her hand. ‘Yes, Lissy, he's the one, the father of my baby.'

Distaste flavoured Dante's mouth. His eyes raked over Melanie, taking in her undoubtedly weakened state. He had to admit that she couldn't have faked the crash. She looked to be taller than Alicia; they shared the same colouring, but her eyes were blue, not a deep, dark chocolate brown. He ruthlessly drove down his awareness of the small woman beside the bed.

This touching scene left him cold.
These two women
held such echoes of the past for him that he wanted to stop this charade at once. And yet his brother was looking at Melanie with such naked love and already, sickeningly, Dante knew the damage had been done. These women were wily operators, reacting to the changing circumstances, the arrival of Paolo, with sheer bold bravado. He was quite certain that the baby was no more Paolo's than his…and Paolo was naive and silly enough to believe it.

History was being repeated…

Dante bit out curtly, ‘Paolo, I'd like to talk to you for a moment privately.'

The young man coloured and swallowed, but he followed his older brother out. Alicia felt a little sorry for him but sagged back with relief when they had left. The shock still reverberated through her body, numbing her to her churning stomach and brain.

Alicia knew instinctively from that short moment between the brothers that Dante was the supreme boss and she, in spectacular style, had no doubt blasted any sympathy Dante might have had for Paolo and this situation…What a mess. And it was entirely her fault. She focused on her sister. She couldn't worry Melanie.

Quashing the looming worries—the thought of what Dante might do and feelings of intense guilt—Alicia got up to give her sister a quick hug and kiss. She was OK, that was the main thing.

‘Oh, Mel…' tears threatened ‘…I thought I'd lost you.'

Melanie's eyes filled too. ‘Don't, Lissy. I'm not going anywhere. Especially not now that Paolo is here.' Her cheeks did flood with colour then and, as glad as Alicia was to see it, she knew she had to be careful not to let her get overexcited. ‘Oh, Lissy, we're going to get married! He's asked me to marry him. And we're going to move into town so I can be near Dr Hardy—'

Alicia looked at Melanie seriously, knowing that they were still not certain of anything. ‘Melanie…'

Melanie shook her head emphatically. ‘
He's
the one—the one I couldn't mention. When Mr D'Aquanni found out about us seeing each other he went beserk. He sent Paolo to the office in Tokyo. But we kept in touch. Then, a couple of months after he left, I found out I was pregnant. I'd been so upset about him being sent away that I hadn't even noticed my periods stopping.' She looked at Alicia sheepishly. ‘I had been planning on going out there too. I didn't care if I'd have to leave the company, just so we could be together but then…' she looked at her belly fondly for a second…‘I couldn't go. I want to have my baby here. I was going to beg Mr D'Aquanni to let him come back.'

Alicia looked at her and shook her head. ‘Why didn't you tell me?'

Melanie sighed. ‘I couldn't, Lissy. I tried calling the camp but couldn't get through. I didn't want to send it in an e-mail as you might have been worried…and I'd got your e-mail to say you were due home soon anyway. I wanted it to be a nice surprise, for me and Paolo to be together when you met him for the first time…'

Alicia smoothed back some hair from her sister's forehead. ‘Oh, hon…'

At that moment the two men came back into the small cubicle. Dante looked dangerous. Paolo came back to Melanie's side and took her hand again, staring at his brother belligerently.

Dante wasn't happy. His expression was stony and remote. He looked at Alicia. ‘I'll give you a lift home now.'

‘But I've just got here.'

‘Alicia…'

Something stopped her immediate retort. His voice seemed to act like some kind of hypnotic beacon to her weakened body and mind. She wasn't ready to be alone with this man, to face the obvious recriminations coming her way, and yet…it seemed like the only thing she could do was to answer his summons.

She looked at Melanie and her younger sister suddenly seemed like the one in control, frail though she was. ‘You
should
go, Lissy, get some sleep. You haven't had a moment's rest since you came home…'

As Alicia hovered between getting up and staying where she was, Melanie pulled her towards her at the last second and whispered into her ear, clasping her hand, ‘Liss, you don't have to worry about me any more; I have Paolo now.'

Alicia stood and swayed ominously. She felt as though she were on a dinghy that had been cut loose from the shore and was floating helplessly out to sea, everything she knew becoming a smaller and smaller dot in the distance. And, to compound this feeling, Dante was immediately there, his arm around her an unwelcome support. She tried to ignore its effect, looked across at Paolo and smiled weakly. ‘It was nice to meet you.'

He nodded soberly. ‘You, too.' He promptly turned his attention back to Melanie.

And then she was walking away, with Dante's arm still around her. It was only when they reached the main entrance of the hospital and the cool air rushed forward and embraced her that Alicia found the strength to pull away jerkily. Too much had just happened for her to process fully and her insides clawed with shame and guilt at how badly she'd misconstrued things.

She looked at Dante with her arms wrapped tight around her body. So many emotions were rushing through her that she didn't even know where to start. She felt herself being pulled in a million different directions and a very scary feeling of relief, which she hadn't had the courage to acknowledge yet because it wasn't entirely to do with Melanie's recovery.

Bravely she stuck her chin out, looking at Dante directly. ‘I'm sorry.'

Dante looked at her for a long moment and she had to fight not to look away from his penetrating gaze. He looked like an exotic Italian prince against the backdrop of the grey English hospital. A group of nurses passed and stared openly at him, their appreciation obvious as they went through the doors. He didn't seem to notice. His expression was blank. Scarily blank. After what seemed like an age, he said simply, quietly, ‘Sorry?'

Something in his manner made the past rear its ugly head. Alicia could remember all too well what it had been like to see a foreign god on domestic soil. She had been one of those nurses in the not too distant past and, even though she knew it was irrational, that he was a different person, that it was projection, an ugly emotion rose up.

She felt it rise and welcomed it. ‘Yes. Sorry.' She waved an airy hand, not knowing where this ability to act so nonchalantly had come from. A part of her was completely aghast at what she'd hurled at this man by way of insult and accusation—all unfounded. But…something else was driving her.

‘I had very good reason for believing that you
were
the father of my sister's baby. I'd just got off a long flight, had come home to find my sister in hospital,
five months pregnant,
apparently abandoned by the father. I had no idea who her lover was and the only name she mentioned then was yours…She was in need of expensive medical care…How do you think I came to the conclusions I did, given how I felt?'

Dante regarded her. She was priceless. She couldn't even be bothered to act contrite, now that she was sure that they had at least one D'Aquanni falling for their plan. His mouth quirked. ‘Oh, I think I have an idea.'

Immediately she felt deflated and humbled. Seeing his brother there must have been a shock to him, although, since he'd known of the relationship, slightly less than hers. Something niggled at her then but she couldn't hold on to it, still too stunned…‘Of course you do; I'm sorry.'

‘That's three “I'm sorry”s—how many more do you think will make up for the chaos you've brought into my life?'
And the chaos you're no doubt still planning on bringing into our lives…

Alicia stood as tall as she could. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. There. Believe me, I'm truly sorry I ever believed you to be the father, that I went all the way to your offices, to your villa…' She had become more and more worked up with her words, the shock wearing off and felt herself starting to dissolve. She stepped back and away, her throat thick with tears. She just had to get away from him—
now.
‘Just…I'm sorry, OK? I'll get a bus home, you can go back to Italy on your plane and forget we ever met. Forget about the money. Melanie and I will look after ourselves.'
After all, we've been doing it all our lives…