The Mediterranean Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain (6 page)

Dante had to fight the urge to roll his eyes and say, Oh, please. Now she was going to the other extreme and starting to seriously overact.

Alicia couldn't think clearly, she was too consumed with the shock after shock, too used to thinking of herself and Melanie as a self-contained unit. Her head was churning so much that she couldn't process the information calmly, see the way forward. To see that they did have another person who had pledged to help—Paolo. She just needed to get away from Dante right now, her emotions were raw and too near the surface. He was too…too much.

She turned and started to walk away, the car park in front of her a blur through her swimming eyes. God. She hadn't cried in years, despite some of the scenes she'd witnessed in Africa, and here she was, blubbing every two minutes. And fainting like some wan heroine from a bad costume drama.

A hard hand caught her arm, swinging her back. All she could see was a huge, dark blurry shape. She couldn't speak. The next thing she knew, she was wrapped in arms so strong and so comforting that she would have believed it if she'd been told at that moment that she was in heaven. She cried for what seemed like an aeon. For herself. For Melanie.

And for accusing this man wrongly, for not being able to say sorry with any grace because he was causing all manner of scary feelings in her belly. The tears came until her eyes were dry and her throat was raw.

 

Despite his best intentions, Dante had reacted on pure impulse and an instinct so strong that he'd had no alternative but to let it run through him. He knew her tears were part of the act—
knew it.
But something in her body as she'd turned away had made him pull her back, unable to let her walk away.

He'd never held a crying woman in his arms before.

Physical desire.

That was all it was. He couldn't fathom it, couldn't rationalize it—it just
was.
Something about this woman was calling to him on a base level and he knew he had to see it through to its conclusion. No matter what it took. With customary ruthlessness that made him feel on safer ground, he started to formulate a plan of sorts. It would placate Paolo, who was proving to be dismayingly, resolutely obstinate in his support of Melanie, and it would mean he could keep an eye on Alicia
and her sister.
And he would get her into his bed to sate this burning fire…

Her body had finally stopped its uncontrollable shaking. He could feel her take a deep breath against his chest, and her soft breasts rise and swell against his belly. His groin tightened, the blood rushed south. He was making the right decision. He pulled away, tipping her head back to face him with one hand, almost hoping for a second that she'd have turned into some kind of hag in the interim, like in a cartoon.

But no…she looked exquisite. Her eyes were huge, the colour of crushed dark velvet and dewed with moisture, her mouth a quivering invitation, the tracks of tears on her cheeks an enticement to drop his head, kiss them away…

He saw something in her eyes then, a vulnerability that she hadn't displayed before…
because she'd been too busy being brave…
The thought sneaked in and stunned him with its rogue audacity for a second. For that second, before his cynical brain could kick into gear again, he was caught by something else.

With his thumb he gently touched the healing cut on her cheek. She flinched ever so slightly and then shock slammed into him. Everything jumped back into sharp focus.

What was he doing? Thinking?

He was no better than his poor duped brother at that moment. He felt the need to pull back. Retreat. He was fast heading into uncharted waters and didn't like it. The woman and her sister were consummate actresses and manipulators—nothing had changed that fact—and yet here he was, letting himself be swayed by a few crocodile tears.

‘Let's get you home.' He put her away from him and made a quick curt call on his mobile. Within seconds the sleek black car that had taken them from the plane to the hospital slid to a silent halt beside them. Alicia trembled slightly and felt an awful shiver of foreboding skate down her spine when she saw how Dante's face had turned back into a mask of cool indifference. For one moment there, she could have sworn she'd seen something else, something far more
human.

He stopped her just before she got into the car. She looked up warily.

‘Just for the record, don't let Paolo's fervent avowal to marry Melanie and look after her lull you into complacency that your plan has worked. I'm still under no illusions that Paolo is about as likely to be the father as myself.'

Alicia's jaw clenched hard and before she could articulate a word she was being unceremoniously handed into the back of the car, one thought in her head:
he's not human at all; he's cold and cruel…

‘H
AVE
you seen it?'

‘I'm looking at it right now.' Dante was grim. With one hand he held his mobile to his ear, with the other he held open the front of the tabloid. Breakfast sat uneaten at his hotel room table. It was the following morning and he was still here in England. That uncomfortable fact was not lost on Dante. He flicked the paper again to see the picture more clearly and stretched long legs out.

His assistant sounded mildly exasperated, and only the fact that they went back so far gave him the audacity to say, ‘Well? Care to tell me what it's about?'

‘Not particularly, Alex.'
Because, in truth, he still wasn't even sure himself what had happened…

A sigh came down the other end of the phone. ‘Look, Dante, there's a photo of you kissing a strange woman on the steps of your villa, very passionately I might add. The merger conference is days away. The Americans have made a big deal about no unnecessary publicity. You
know
Buchanen has always disapproved of your playboy status…and with his strategic importance—'

‘I am aware of that Alex.' Dante bit out. ‘And I'm two steps ahead of you. The woman is called Alicia Parker and she will be accompanying me to the conference as my…' he searched for the right word…‘hostess.'

‘Oh…' His assistant was momentarily lost for words. He wasn't even going to bother attempting to ask where she'd emerged from, knowing he'd be stonewalled. ‘Is she aware of this?'

‘Not yet. But it won't be a problem.' Dante terminated the call and smiled but it was a shark's smile. This photographer, who'd had his camera confiscated but who had somehow managed to take a snap anyway, had played beautifully into his hands. He made a phone call.

‘Paolo? Come and see me at the hotel please.'

 

Alicia woke and felt strange. Curiously rested. For a second she was totally disorientated. And then she realized that she was in her old room. In the apartment she'd shared with Melanie before going to Africa. Realising where she was sent sudden panic rushing through her. Melanie! And then she sagged back against the mattress.
All
the events came rushing back. And with them, Dante D'Aquanni. He had brought her here yesterday and left her at the door. They'd said a stilted goodbye. Well, she thought slightly defensively to herself, what could she say to a man whose life she'd single-handedly upended? To a man who still believed himself and his brother to be victims of a huge scam, orchestrated by her and her sister. Alicia could have laughed if it wasn't so ridiculous. Melanie was so scatty she barely had the wherewithal to make it to work in the morning, never mind dream up such an elaborate scheme…

The fact was, Dante was
not
the father of Melanie's baby. His brother was. And if their greeting had been anything to go by, quite apart from his own assertion to her, he most certainly wouldn't be bankrolling his brother's
love affair,
baby or no.

Dante D'Aquanni was not going to play the part of benevolent uncle.

So she was back to square one. Feeling a little resurgence of her old energy as she got up, Alicia was thankful. She was going to need it. Even if they could at least count on Paolo's promise, his wages, she would have to work hard now too, to try and finance moving them to London and guaranteeing Dr Hardy's care for Melanie. She couldn't even contemplate not getting her that care. Melanie was everything to her. Her whole world. Ever since they'd been dropped at the steps of the orphanage by their sick, harried and stressed mother. Alicia had been four, Melanie two and half. Alicia had held tight on to Melanie's hand as she'd wailed uncontrollably. She could still remember the stoic calm she'd felt watching her mother's thin back as she walked away. She hadn't looked back once. And Alicia hadn't seen her since.

She blanked those thoughts. She didn't have time for sad memories. She made a quick call to the hospital. Melanie was getting better and better and sounded strong.
And
distracted—Paolo was still with her. Alicia put down the phone with a frown. She wasn't sure how she felt about Paolo, if they could trust him, although he seemed to be genuine and certainly didn't seem to share his brother's dark, suspicious nature. She shouldn't have stayed away for so long; she would have met him before now if she'd been at home.

But she hadn't been able to leave, she'd been sucked into the relentless grind of trying to save so many lives.

But she was home now.
That was what mattered. Tying her hair back with a band, she was walking towards the bathroom when a knock sounded on the door just feet away. Immediately and for no good reason, Alicia's heart started to pound. She glanced quickly down at herself—faded loose pyjama bottoms, an old threadbare sweatshirt. She was presentable enough for the postman or a neighbour.

But it was neither when she opened the door. It was Dante D'Aquanni, the man she'd imagined to be firmly ensconsed back in his palatial, idyllic villa, no doubt thankful to have her out of his hair.

She blinked up at him. He looked gorgeous and devastating in another dark suit. ‘You…'

‘Yes. Me.' His glance flickered down her body and her bare feet curled into the carpet.

‘What are you doing here? Why aren't you gone?' Her hand gripped the door.

‘Aren't you going to ask me in?'

What choice did she have? She moved back to allow him through and the sheer size of him as he passed her made her legs feel weak. He even had to duck his head. The apartment was like a doll's house with him in it.

She closed the door. He was looking around, taking in the bare furnishings, the photos of the smiling sisters, a few books on the shelves. When he looked at Alicia he could see something flare in her eyes and her chin tilt up defiantly. He recognized that look because he'd seen it before—on
himself.
It was a look that said, We may not have much but it's ours…mine. The immediate empathy he felt surprised him; he covered it up. And also covered up the way her sleep-flushed face made him want to reach out…touch her cheek. Touch more than her cheek.

Alicia tried to remain calm, not to allow the tremor she felt develop into uncontrollable shaking. He was obviously just here to reiterate that she and Melanie would be getting nothing. To make sure she didn't go to the papers. To tell her to keep her sister away from Paolo. And right then, despite her recent misgivings, she vowed that if he did, she'd fight him tooth and nail. Because even if
he
wasn't the father, Paolo, his brother was, whether he chose to believe it or not. She was prepared to accept that Dante wouldn't pay, but he couldn't separate Paolo and Melanie now. And, assuming he'd meant the marriage proposal, Melanie would need Paolo's support desperately, although she'd have to leave that to Melanie to discuss with him…Alicia's head started to pound. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Dante slid his gaze up and down. It turned mocking.

‘Don't you own one fitted garment with its colours still intact?'

Stung, and hating herself for it because she didn't normally give two hoots about her appearance, Alicia asked sweetly, ‘What? Haven't you heard that the messy-chic look is in?' She cocked her hip and gestured with a hand. ‘If you open the magazines they're all wearing these clothes.'

Then pride made her straighten her spine. ‘There isn't much call for high fashion among the refugee tents in Africa, Signore D'Aquanni. But, as I doubt we're ever likely to move in the same circles, you shouldn't have to endure my wardrobe insulting your sensibilities. Now, I'm sure you haven't lowered yourself to come here to discuss my lack of style.'

His eyes narrowed on her for a long moment. ‘So you did work in Africa then?'

Alicia tensed so much she thought she might break. ‘Yes. For a year.'

He passed a look over her that patently said he put her claim under serious doubt and then, to her surprise, he took off his jacket and sat down on the couch. It was a three-seater but he practically took up the whole thing.

‘Actually, Alicia, your style or lack of it is one of the things that will come up for discussion. Now, what does a man have to do to be offered coffee around here?'

 

Alicia cupped her mug of steaming coffee in her hands and looked at Dante warily over the rim. She perversely hoped that he was sitting on the bit of sofa with the exposed spring. But, looking completely at ease, unconcerned, Dante sipped his own coffee, taking his time before setting the cup down on the low table. He leant forward and rested his arms on his knees.

‘I'm here to offer you a proposal.'

Alicia could feel the blood drain from her face and then rush back guiltily as she realized what she'd taken his words to mean for a split second. He'd seen it too and that mocking look made his mouth quirk at the corner again.

‘Not that kind of proposal.
Never
that kind of proposal; I'm not a marrying man.'

Words were strangled in her throat. She was mortified that he would think that she had thought he'd meant marriage.
And she had.
For a second.

She put her cup down with a shaky hand. ‘Look, just tell me why you're here, I have things to do.' She sat back and folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. He settled back into the couch and crossed one leg over the other. The bottom of his impeccably shod foot seemed to mock her too. She could see how in some cultures it was taken as a high insult to be faced with the soles of someone's feet.

‘What I've come here to
propose
is a little mutual arrangement.'

Alicia all but snorted. She doubted very much that this man did anything
mutually.

‘I'm listening.'

Only so you'll be gone more quickly and I can get back to normal and forget we ever met.

Alicia conveniently blocked out the voice that said, What about if Melanie and Paolo get married? What about when they have the baby? Won't Uncle Dante come to visit? Won't Uncle Dante be there for the rest of your life?

His voice cut through her tortured thoughts. ‘I am hosting a series of final negotiations in a very high profile merger over the next three weeks. The first week of the conference will be at my villa in Lake Como—a week in which the very select participants will be shielded from the media's prying eyes, to be exclusively wined and dined in between meetings.'

Alicia looked at him blankly, desperately trying to hide the effect his force field had on her body. She just hoped he'd hurry up and say whatever he had to say, not knowing why he felt he had to tell her anything…

‘Together with a close colleague from Ireland, we're merging forces with one of the biggest construction giants in America. As I am the biggest investor, effectively it is a merger that will see me as CEO of the largest construction conglomerate in the world.'

Alicia recalled Melanie's glowing comments when she had first got the job at Dante's company some years previously. ‘I thought you already were the biggest company in the world…' She couldn't keep the caustic tone from her voice, or the look in her eye that told him exactly what she thought of his obvious bid for world domination.

He ignored her effortlessly and said without any emotion, just as a hard fact, ‘I am; however, there's always room for improvement.'

‘You mean greed,' Alicia muttered, and felt pettish as she did so. What did she care, even if he wanted to conquer outer space?

Again he ignored her barbed comments. ‘The construction company from America is run by a man called Buchanen. He's taken a lot of persuading to come on board. Years of smaller negotiations have led us to this point, and now we are poised to sign on the dotted line. All it's going to take is this three weeks and then it's going to be signed, sealed and delivered.'

Satisfaction rushed through Dante.
This would be the pinnacle of everything he'd ever set out to achieve, to prove…having come from nothing…
and he was not about to let that satisfaction be thwarted. Especially when so many depended on him.

He lay an arm along the back of the couch, making his shirt strain across his impossibly broad and hard chest, making Alicia's eyes drop betrayingly and her throat dry up. She looked up and felt a rising tide of red. And saw the mocking look in his eye. At that moment she wanted to throw the contents of her coffee cup in his face.

‘
And…?
I presume there's more?' she bit out.

Dante regarded her, taking in every expression crossing her face, flashing through her big eyes. His groin tightened.
You bet there is…

He schooled his expression, veiled the lust he felt. ‘Buchanen has been a reluctant investor. And yet he's the only one we want. He controls just
one
of the biggest companies in the US, but he's got the most links and connections with Europe, which will inevitably give us an even stronger hold here too. But he's cautious. He's planning to run for the American senate and that's pretty much the reason he finally gave in; he wants to free up his time to devote himself to politics—the downside of that is his concern for his untarnished reputation.'