Читать книгу Surrendering To The Vengeful Italian - Angela Bissell, Angela Bissell - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

LEO STRAIGHTENED AND quelled the urge to mutter another oath.

Of all the damnable luck. This night was going from bad to worse. First a call on his mobile from a board member whose angst over a minor matter had required twenty minutes of placation, followed by his relief at finding Helena hadn’t done a runner in his absence turning into stunned disbelief over her staggering revelations—revelations his reeling brain had yet to fully process.

And now Carlos Santino. Here in London. At this hotel. At this function.

Tension coiled in his gut as the older Italian approached. Santino stood a full head shorter than Leo, but the man’s stocky build and confident gait more than made up for his lack of stature. Add to that hard, intelligent eyes above a beaked nose and a straight mouth, and you had the impression of a man who tolerated weakness in neither himself nor others.

Leo liked him. Respected him. Santino Shipping dominated the world’s waterways, and in the last three years its cyber security needs had generated sizable revenue for Leo’s company. The two men shared a business relationship based on mutual trust and respect.

But Leo had not seen Carlos Santino for several months.

Not since he’d rejected the man’s daughter.

‘Carlos.’ He gripped Santino’s hand. ‘This is unexpected. What brings you to London? I thought few things could prise you away from Rome.’

His client grunted. ‘Shopping. Shows. Anything my wife and daughter can spend my money on.’ A chunky gold watch and a heavy signet ring flashed in the air. ‘Nothing they cannot get in Rome, or Milan, but you know women—’ he shrugged expressively ‘—they are easily bored.’

Leo fired a loaded glance at Helena, but she was already rising, gifting the newcomer a million-dollar smile that drove a spike of irrational jealousy through his chest because he wasn’t the recipient.

‘Helena, this is Carlos Santino, head of Santino Shipping.’ A deliberate pause gave his next words emphasis. ‘One of my company’s largest clients.’

She extended a slim hand. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Santino.’

‘The pleasure is mine.’ Santino’s hand engulfed hers. ‘And, please, call me Carlos.’ For a long moment he studied her face in a frank appraisal that nearly but not quite overstepped the bounds of propriety. By the time he released her hand, her cheeks glowed a delicate pink. He turned to Leo. ‘Business is not your only good reason for visiting London, si?’

Leo forced a smile that almost made his eyes water. ‘This is a coincidence, running into you here.’ He pulled out a vacated chair for his client. ‘Maria and Anna are with you?’

Carlos waited for Helena to resume her seat before taking the proffered chair. ‘This was Anna’s idea. She remembered you were patron of this organisation and...well—’ another very Italian shrug ‘—when my wife planned the weekend Anna called your office and asked if you would be in London.’ His smile offered only the vaguest apology. ‘You know my daughter. She is resourceful and persistent. And furious with her papà right now. She woke with a bad cold this morning and I forbade her to come out. The tickets were already purchased and Maria insisted she and I still come.’ He waved his hand. ‘My wife is here somewhere—no doubt talking with someone more interesting than her husband.’

Some of Leo’s tension eased. The young, voluptuous Anna Santino was an irritation he’d spent several months trying hard to avoid. Running into her this evening, or rather running from her, would have turned the night into a complete disaster.

Carlos switched his attention to Helena. ‘It is fortunate, I think, that my daughter could not be here tonight. I fear she would be jealous of such a beauty at Leo’s side.’

The provocative compliment heightened her colour but her hesitation was brief. ‘I’m so sorry to hear your daughter is too ill to come out, Mr San—Carlos. That really is most unfortunate.’ Her voice sang with sympathy. ‘I do hope she’ll be back on her feet again soon. You must tell her she has missed a wonderful, wonderful evening.’

Leo fought back a smirk. She might blush like a novice in a convent, but there was backbone beneath that pseudo-innocent charm. He noted a quirk at the corner of Santino’s mouth. A flash of approval in his eyes.

Carlos inclined his head. ‘I will, my dear.’ To Leo, he said, ‘I owe you an apology, my friend. When you told my daughter you had someone special in your life I assumed you were letting her down gently with a lie. I see now I was mistaken. You do have a special lady, indeed. And I am pleased to make her acquaintance at last.’

Leo felt the flesh at his nape tighten. He’d known that small white lie would come back one day and bite him. But flat-out rejecting the daughter of a client as powerful as Santino had seemed as sensible as cementing his feet and jumping into the Tiber. Claiming he was committed to another woman had seemed a kinder, more effective solution.

Carlos’s focus returned to Helena. ‘How often are you in Rome, Helena?’

Her lips parted and Leo shot her a hard, silencing look. She closed her mouth and frowned at him.

‘Not often,’ he interceded. ‘Business brings me to London on a regular basis.’

‘Ah, shame. In that case you need a reason to bring her to our great city.’ Carlos’s sudden smile drove a shaft of alarm straight to the centre of Leo’s gut. ‘My wife and I are celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary next weekend. Maria has organised a party—something large and extravagant, knowing my wife. Please join us. We’d be delighted to welcome you both.’

In the fleeting moment of silence that followed Leo caught a movement from the corner of his eye, but not until he felt the press of her palm on his thigh did he get his first inkling of what Helena intended.

Too late, his brain flashed a warning.

‘Thank you, Carlos,’ she said, her voice as smooth and sweet as liquid honey. ‘That’s very kind of you. We’d love to come.’ She turned her head and flashed him a dazzling smile. ‘Wouldn’t we, darling?’

She squeezed his leg and heat exploded in the muscle under her hand. He tensed, biting back an exclamation, the fire shooting straight from his thigh to his groin. Madre di Dio. If the vixen inched her fingers any higher he would not be responsible for his body’s reaction. He gritted his teeth until pain arced through his jaw—a welcome distraction from the killer sensations stirring south of his waist.

‘I will need to check my schedule.’ He forced the words past the hot, viscous anger building in his throat. What the hell was she doing? ‘I may have another commitment.’

‘Of course.’

Carlos stood and Leo rose with him, unseating the hand that was dangerously close to setting his pants alight.

‘My assistant will contact your office on Monday with the details.’ Carlos inclined his head. ‘I look forward to seeing you again, Helena. And now I must find my wife before my absence is noted. Leo—good to see you. It has been too long.’

Leo nodded and watched his client’s retreating back, the tension in his chest climbing into his throat until it threatened to choke off his air supply.

He turned, glared at her. ‘Get your bag.’

‘What?’ She stared up at him, wide-eyed. ‘Why?’

‘Just do it.’

When she hesitated, he grabbed her bag and wrapped a hand around her upper arm, hauled her to her feet.

She snatched her bag from him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Somewhere private. To talk. Is that not what you wanted?’

She didn’t utter a single word as he marched her out of the ballroom.

* * *

The instant the elevator doors closed Helena jerked her arm out of Leo’s grasp. ‘There’s no need to manhandle me.’

He punched the button for the top floor of the hotel and threw her a look so thunderous a sliver of fear lodged in her spine. She edged away, reminded herself with a hard swallow that not all men were physically abusive. But if he was planning to shout she wished to God he’d get on with it. Anything had to be better than this...this tense, oppressive silence.