Читать книгу Bound To The Billionaire - Шантель Шоу, Christina Hollis - Страница 10

JESS WAS SUFFOCATING. Water filled her mouth and nose as she sank deeper. The water was so cold that her limbs, her brain, felt numb. An instinct for survival kicked in and she began to scrabble desperately against the blackness engulfing her. Her backpack was weighing her down. In panic she tore her arms free from the straps.

And then miraculously something jerked her back to the surface and she was able to drag oxygen into her lungs.

‘I can’t swim!’ she gasped, terrified that she would sink back down again.

‘It’s all right. I’ve got you. Santa Madre! Stop flapping like a stranded fish and let me pull you out.’

Strong hands hauled her up and dumped her onto the jetty. Choking up the foul-tasting water she had swallowed, Jess collapsed in a heap, shudders running through her as her terror gradually receded. Pushing her tangled wet hair out of her eyes she glared at Drago. ‘Of course I was damned well flapping—I thought I was going to drown.’

‘You can thank me for saving you later,’ he said drily. He frowned when her teeth began to chatter. The water in the canal was cold, but he assessed that the shivers racking her body were more likely due to shock. Without another word he bent and lifted her into his arms, taking no notice of her protests.

‘What about my rucksack? It’s still in the canal.’

‘And there it will stay—unless you want to dive back in and retrieve it.’

‘I told you. I can’t swim.’ Jess stared at Drago’s implacable face with a rising sense of frustration. ‘My passport is in that bag.’

‘Then it’s lucky you won’t need it for a while,’ he drawled. ‘Not until Angelo has regained consciousness and the matter of his missing money has been resolved.’

A new feeling of panic swept through Jess at the prospect of being Drago’s prisoner. ‘You can’t force me to stay,’ she muttered, struggling to speak when she was shivering so hard she felt as though her bones would snap.

‘I don’t see how you can leave without your passport,’ was his laconic reply—which ignited Jess’s temper so that she renewed her efforts to force him to put her down. Drago simply tightened his hold on her and growled, ‘Keep still. You’ve already got me wet enough. Dio, you’re as slippery as an eel.’

Charming. That was twice in the space of a few minutes that he’d likened her to a fish! Jess knew she should continue to struggle, but she felt so tired and cold, and being carried in Drago’s strong arms was dangerously seductive. Besides, where could she go now that her rucksack, containing her clothes, money and passport, was at the bottom of the canal? In a game of chess Drago would have her at checkmate, she acknowledged wearily.

He strode into the house and carried her up two flights of stairs as if she weighed nothing. Shouldering a door, he walked into a room that Jess guessed was the master suite. The elegant sitting room was decorated in shades of cream and gold and furnished with burgundy velvet sofas, and exquisite patterned rugs on the floor. But Jess only had a glimpse of the room as Drago continued on through a set of double doors into the bedroom.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to an enormous four-poster bed with gold damask drapes. The room, in particular the bed, was designed for seduction, she thought, as she took in the exotic décor of burgundy silk wallpaper. The satin bedspread was in the same rich shade.

With a renewed sense of panic she tried again to struggle out of his arms. ‘Why have you brought me here? I’d like to go back to my room.’

‘Not a hope. I’m not going to hang around under your balcony waiting to catch you when you take another leap out of the window.’

‘I didn’t leap out. It was a carefully planned escape, which I wouldn’t have needed to attempt if you hadn’t locked me in,’ Jess snapped, stung by his scathing tone. ‘And I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t startled me. What are you doing?’ she demanded when he carried her into the en suite bathroom and set her down in the shower cubicle. She gasped when he activated the shower and she was hit by a deluge of warm water. Her jeans and tee shirt were already wet from where she had fallen into the canal, but within seconds of standing beneath the spray her clothes were plastered to her body.

‘Do you need any help getting undressed?’

‘No!’ She glared at Drago, incensed by his mocking smile. Following his gaze, she glanced down and was horrified to see that her thin shirt had become almost transparent and the hard points of her nipples were plainly visible through the sodden material. ‘Go to hell,’ she muttered, hating him—but hating her body more, for its traitorous response to his virile sex appeal.

Unexpectedly, the stricken look in Jess’s eyes caused Drago a pang of remorse. Beneath her defiance she looked young and scared, and the realisation that she might be frightened of him made him uncomfortable. Dio, the idea of frightening a woman was abhorrent to him. He had behaved like a brute tonight, he acknowledged heavily. His concern for his cousin and the fact that he’d had barely any sleep in seventy-two hours had clouded his judgement. Although he suspected that Jess knew more about Angelo’s missing inheritance fund than she was letting on, nothing had been proved—and he could not forget how convincing she had sounded when she had protested her innocence.

‘Remain under the shower until you’ve warmed up,’ he said roughly. ‘I’ll find something for you to wear to sleep in.’

Ten minutes later, when Jess cautiously peered around the shower screen, she was relieved to find she was alone. A pile of towels had been left for her, and a man’s white shirt that she guessed belonged to Drago. He had been right about the shower warming her up—she had a feeling he was right about most things, she thought ruefully. But at least she had stopped shivering and her hair no longer smelled of canal water.

The shirt was so big on her that it reached halfway down her thighs. After blasting her hair with the dryer hanging on the wall, she acknowledged that she could not remain in the bathroom for ever.

The first thing she noticed when she opened the door was that Drago had changed out of his damp clothes into a navy blue silk robe that revealed an expanse of broad, tanned chest overlaid with whorls of dark hair.

‘Feeling better?’ he queried when Jess edged into the bedroom.

She nodded, her heart jolting against her ribs as he walked over to her and handed her a glass.

‘Drink this—a shot of brandy will warm your insides.’

‘No, thanks. I never touch spirits.’ She jerked back from him, blanching as she smelled the alcohol.

‘I’m not trying to poison you,’ he said drily.

‘I’m sorry.’ She flushed as she realised how rude she must seem. ‘I loathe alcohol. Even the smell of it reminds me…’

‘Reminds you of what?’ Drago prompted, puzzled by her strange reaction.

‘Nothing.’ Jess bit her lip when she realised Drago was waiting for her to answer. ‘My dad used to drink…a lot,’ she muttered. ‘He was an alcoholic. He drank rum, mainly, although he wasn’t fussy. He’d drink anything. Our house used to stink of alcohol.’

Drago hesitated, struggling for the first time in his life to know what to say. Jess’s voice had been expressionless, but he sensed that she kept a tight hold on her emotions. ‘You said your father used to drink?’ he said after a moment. ‘Does that mean he is no longer an alcoholic?’

‘He’s dead. He died when I was eleven.’

‘That must have been hard for you—to lose your father when you were so young.’

She shrugged. ‘To be honest he wasn’t a great dad. I don’t remember him ever being sober, and he used to spend all his money on drink so there was never much to eat at home.’ Once again her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes had darkened to a deep jade colour and held a faintly haunted expression.

‘What about your mother? She didn’t drink too, did she?’

‘I don’t think so. She died when I was a baby and I have no memory of her.’

Drago frowned. Why was he interested? he asked himself. He shouldn’t give a damn about Jess’s background. But he could not dismiss the image of her as an undernourished, uncared-for child. ‘Who brought you up after your father died?’

‘I went into a children’s home, which wasn’t so bad. At least I had dinner every day.’ Her wry smile turned into a yawn. ‘Sorry, but I’m shattered. It’s been an eventful day,’ she said pointedly.

‘Then get into bed.’ He pulled back the covers and gave her a querying look when she did not move.

Jess stared at the gold silk sheets and her heart began to pound. Surely Drago was not expecting her to sleep with him? The idea was outrageous, and yet…An image flashed into her mind of lying in that bed and feeling the sensual silk against her naked flesh. Like a film playing inside her head, she pictured Drago lying next to her, his tanned torso so dark in contrast to her paleness, his wiry chest hairs feeling faintly abrasive against her breasts as he lowered himself onto her.

Dear heaven. She drew an audible breath. Where had her shocking thoughts come from? She darted a glance at him and her heart missed a beat when she saw the predatory hunger in his eyes. The realisation that she had not imagined the sexual chemistry between them was frankly terrifying.

‘No way am I going to sleep with you,’ she said jerkily. ‘Was that why you wanted me to drink brandy—to make me more amenable?’

‘Amenable!’ Drago gave a harsh laugh. ‘I swear you don’t know the meaning of the word.’

He did not know what angered him most—her accusation that he had planned to seduce her or the fear he glimpsed in her eyes. Dio, she made him feel like a monster, when in fact he’d had the patience of a saint tonight.

‘For your information, I have never had to get a woman drunk to persuade her to sleep with me.’

His gaze narrowed on her flushed face. She looked a whole lot better than she had when he had pulled her from the canal: no longer a drowned rat but a red-haired sexpot with her soft lips slightly parted and the swift rise and fall of her breasts betraying her agitation. But it was not fear that made the pulse at the base of her neck beat erratically—he knew women too well, and he recognised the subtle signals her body was sending him.

‘I would not need to ply you with alcohol to get you into bed, would I, cara?’ he taunted softly. ‘From your response when I kissed you earlier I got the impression that I could take you any time I liked.’ Ignoring her fierce denial, he continued ruthlessly, ‘But someone with a conviction for fraud is not my ideal mistress. I have no intention of sharing a bed with you. The only reason I suggested you should sleep here is because you stripped the sheets from your bed to use in your juvenile escape attempt, and I’m not going to disturb the housemaid and ask her to prepare another bed for you. I’ll sleep in my dressing room for what’s left of tonight.’

As he strode past Jess on his way to his dressing room her dumbstruck expression awarded Drago some satisfaction. She was the craziest, most irritating woman he had ever met, he assured himself. But when he stretched out on the sofa bed sleep eluded him despite his tiredness, and his body ached with sexual frustration as he remembered how soft her lips had felt beneath his.

The sound of someone calling her name dragged Jess from a deep sleep, and she was vaguely aware of something lightly brushing her face. She blinked blearily as Drago’s hard-boned face filled her vision, and she was instantly awake and acutely aware of him.

God, he was gorgeous, she thought ruefully. His casual clothes of yesterday had been replaced with a dark suit and crisp white shirt that contrasted starkly with his olive-toned skin. He had evidently shaved, for his jaw was smooth and she inhaled the subtle scent of sandalwood cologne.

His sensual mouth was unsmiling, and as her memory of all the previous day’s events returned a sense of dread gripped her. ‘Is there any news about Angelo?’

‘His condition is unchanged,’ he informed her in a clipped tone. ‘When you’ve got up and had something to eat we’ll go to the hospital. I still believe you are the best hope of rousing him.’

With an effort Drago moved away from the bed before he gave in to temptation and joined Jess between the sheets. She reminded him of a sleepy kitten, curled up beneath the covers, her tawny hair spread across the pillows and her cat-like green eyes watching him from beneath long silky lashes.

He had woken earlier, feeling better for a few hours’ uninterrupted sleep, and more in control of himself. He’d hardly been able to believe that he had allowed a skinny redhead with an attitude problem to provoke him into losing his cool. But when he had leaned across the bed, intending to wake Jess, he had been riveted by her beautiful face. Unable to resist, he had run his finger lightly down her sleep-flushed cheek and discovered that her skin was as velvet-soft as a peach. Her lips had been slightly parted, and he’d felt a fierce longing to cover them with his own.

Cursing silently, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains to allow the bright April sunshine to flood the room. ‘From now on you will sleep in the bedroom adjacent to mine. It does not have a balcony, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to try another escape trick,’ he said sardonically. ‘I have also arranged for some clothes to be delivered for you as yours are at the bottom of the canal.’

Jess decided not to point out that she considered it entirely his fault she had lost all her belongings. He had not mentioned his threat of the previous night to hand her over to the police and she deemed it better not to antagonise him. Once Angelo had regained consciousness and explained that he had not given her his inheritance money Drago would owe her a grovelling apology, but for now, bearing in mind that she did not have a passport, she realised she had no choice but to remain in Venice with him.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘If you give me the bill for the clothes I will, of course, pay you what I owe.’

She sounded genuine, and she looked so goddamned innocent. Drago’s eyes narrowed. Were his suspicions about her wrong? How could they be when the evidence was stacked against her? Angelo had told Aunt Dorotea he had given Jess his inheritance fund, and the private investigator had confirmed that she had a criminal record for fraud. She might look as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but he was not fooled by her, he assured himself.

‘It isn’t necessary for you to pay for them. The clothes belong to me.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Well, either I’m going to look pretty silly, wearing clothes designed for a six-foot man, or you’re a cross-dresser.’

For a few seconds Drago could think of nothing to say in response to her startling statement, but then his lips twitched and he threw back his head and laughed. ‘I promise you I don’t have a penchant for dressing up in women’s clothes and stiletto heels.’

He watched Jess’s mouth curve into a smile and realised she had been teasing him. It was a novelty. He was not used to women with a sense of humour; most of the women he knew took themselves far too seriously. It felt strange to laugh, he mused. Even before Angelo’s accident there had rarely seemed anything to laugh about recently. The responsibility of running a business empire and taking care of his family weighed heavily on him. Although he made time to play squash and work out in his private gym, and he enjoyed an active sex life with numerous mistresses, his life was dictated by work and duty and he could not remember the last time anyone had made him smile.

‘The clothes are from the Cassa di Cassari collection,’ he explained. ‘Clothing is a new venture that the company is expanding into, and we have employed the top Italian fashion designer Torre Umberto. The new line won’t be available in the shops until next month, but Torre has sent some samples over for you to wear.’

His phone rang, breaking the curious connection he had briefly felt with Jess. He headed a global business empire which demanded his constant attention. He was distracted enough, worrying about his cousin, and he definitely did not have time to be distracted by a sassy redhead whose sweet smile made his guts ache, Drago reminded himself.

‘When you’re ready, the maid will show you the way to the dining room,’ he told her abruptly before he headed out of the door.

They had been at the hospital for hours, but still Angelo showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Jess stood up from her chair next to the bed, needing to stretch her legs. The small room felt claustrophobic, and although the blind at the window was pulled down the bright sunshine beating against the glass increased the stifling atmosphere.

As she walked over to the water dispenser and filled a plastic cup she was aware of two pairs of eyes following her. Angelo’s mother was no friendlier today than she had been last night and had not spoken a word to her. The poor woman was devastated, Jess reminded herself. But she also knew that the vibes of distrust from Drago’s aunt were due to her belief that Jess had conned her son out of his inheritance fund. When Angelo woke up he was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, she thought heavily.

Dorotea turned her attention back to her son, but Jess was conscious that Drago’s gaze was still focused on her, and she self-consciously ran a hand over the cream jersey-silk skirt that she had discovered, along with a selection of other outfits, in the wardrobe of her room at the Palazzo d’Inverno.

The last time she had worn a skirt had been years ago, on one of the rare occasions when she had attended school, she thought wryly. She lived in jeans or work overalls, and she felt overdressed in the skirt and the delicate white blouse she had teamed with it. The tan leather belt around her waist matched the three-inch stiletto-heeled shoes. The elegant outfit had called for her to try to tame her thick hair, and she had swept it up into a loose knot on top of her head.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror before she had left her bedroom, she had been stunned by the transformation. She had always thought of her body as shapeless and too thin, but the beautifully designed skirt suited her slim figure, and the blouse was cleverly cut so that her small bust looked fuller. For the first time in years—since she was seventeen, in fact, and had worn a new dress to go out to dinner with her boss, Sebastian Loxley—she felt like an attractive woman. The glitter of sexual awareness in Drago’s eyes when she had walked into the dining room at the palazzo had sent a thrill of feminine pride through her. He had not commented on her appearance, but she had been aware of him glancing at her several times as they had eaten breakfast—just as she was aware of him watching her now.

‘I need some air,’ he announced abruptly. The metal feet of his chair scraped loudly on the floor as he stood up. His eyes met Jess’s, but his expression was unreadable. ‘We’ll go and get a coffee. You need a break,’ he insisted when she opened her mouth to argue. ‘You have talked to Angelo and sung to him—’ he glanced briefly at the guitar standing by the bed ‘—almost constantly for four hours.’

‘I came to try to help,’ she replied huskily, feeling herself blush. She had sung a couple of pop ballads that Angelo had taught her to play on the guitar while Drago had gone to make a phone call, and she felt embarrassed that he must have been just outside the door and had heard her.

‘Hopefully he will regain consciousness soon, and if he does it will be no small thanks to you,’ Drago said roughly.

He could not help but be impressed by Jess’s efforts to rouse his cousin. She had barely moved from his bedside since they had arrived at the hospital that morning, and she had talked to him until her throat sounded dry. The question of whether they were lovers returned to taunt him. She had denied it, had said that they were simply friends, but she was so goddamned beautiful and it was easy to believe she had seduced shy, inexperienced Angelo with her sex-kitten sensuality and persuaded him to give her a fortune.

Drago’s jaw clenched. She had taken his breath away when she had joined him for breakfast at the palazzo that morning, dressed in clothes that had drawn his gaze to her slender but shapely figure. The scruffy tomboy had turned into an elegant woman, but beneath her new sophistication he recognised her inherently sensual nature, and his appetite for food had deserted him as he’d fantasised about having hot, hard sex with her on the dining table.

Frowning at the inappropriateness of his thoughts when his cousin was in a critical condition, Drago was unaware of how forbidding he looked as he escorted Jess to the hospital cafeteria. He ordered two coffees and carried them over to the empty table she had found.

She seemed distracted as she added three spoons of sugar to her coffee, prompting him to ask, ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I wish my phone wasn’t at the bottom of the canal,’ she said ruefully. ‘I’d like to call Mike, my foreman, to make sure the job we’ve been working on will be finished on time. Clients hate delays, and it’s important that the company maintains a good reputation.’ Jess pushed a stray tendril of hair back from her face. ‘Do the doctors have any idea of when Angelo might regain consciousness? I want to stay if it is deemed that hearing my voice might help rouse him, but I have a responsibility to my team of decorators in London. If I don’t finalise our next contract they won’t have any work.’

Drago sipped his unsweetened black coffee, relishing the hit of caffeine, and gave her a speculative look. ‘I understand that your decorating business was facing bankruptcy until a few months ago?’

‘How do you know that?’ Her startled expression turned to anger. ‘I suppose the investigator you hired to spy on me told you?’

He did not deny it. ‘I know you paid twenty thousand pounds into the company account to clear its debts and overdraft. I can’t help thinking how remarkably convenient it was that you suddenly acquired a large sum of money just in time to save the business from financial meltdown.’

As his meaning became clear, Jess felt sick. ‘If you think I got the money from Angelo, you’re wrong.’

‘So where did it come from? And perhaps you can also explain how you live in a luxury apartment with a rental value far higher than you could afford on a decorator’s wage.’

Jess was stunned at how much he knew about her personal life, and felt violated by the intrusion.

‘I don’t have to explain anything to you,’ she said angrily. ‘But as a matter of fact the money I used to bail out T&J Decorators was left to me.’

Drago looked disbelieving. ‘You’re saying you received an inheritance? Who from? You told me your alcoholic father spent all his money on drink.’

‘Yeah, he certainly never gave me anything—not even affection,’ Jess said bitterly. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like to be the only child in the class not to be dressed in clean clothes? Or the only one not to go on a school trip because your dad was too drunk to sign the permission form?’ She clamped her lips together, startled by her outburst. Her childhood was something she never spoke about. ‘Of course you don’t know. You were born into a wealthy, loving family.’

She swallowed. ‘I didn’t know what it felt like to be part of a family until I was seventeen, when I went to stay with a wonderful couple who had experience of helping troubled teenagers. Ted and Margaret changed my life in so many ways. Sadly they are both dead now, and six months ago I learned that I was a beneficiary in Margaret’s will.’

The raw emotion in Jess’s voice tugged on Drago’s insides. He was shocked by her revelations about her childhood and felt uncomfortable that his questioning of her had forced her to talk about a subject she clearly found painful. She could be making up a sob story to gain his sympathy, his mind pointed out. But the haunted expression in her eyes was too real to be an act.

‘As for how I afford to live in an expensive property,’ she continued, ‘I have an arrangement with a property developer who allows me to live in properties he owns rent-free. In return I carry out renovation work and decorate them to a high standard. As soon as the work is finished on the flat I’m currently living in I’ll move out, and the developer will lease it to paying tenants.’

Jess glared at Drago. ‘You are wrong about me,’ she said fiercely. ‘And when Angelo wakes up and tells you where his money is I’ll expect an apology from you.’

His coldly arrogant expression did not soften. ‘I’m not wrong about your criminal record. It is an undeniable fact that you were convicted of fraud, and in light of that I think my suspicion that you know what has happened to my cousin’s inheritance is understandable.’

‘I was seventeen, for God’s sake, and very naïve.’ Jess bit her lip. ‘I was set up and I didn’t understand that I was committing a crime.’

‘Set up by whom?’

The rank disbelief in Drago’s tone made Jess’s heart sink. She had no chance of convincing him of her innocence when she had been found guilty by a jury, she acknowledged bleakly. The injustice of what had happened still burned inside her. But at the same time as the court case seven years ago, she had had to make a monumental decision that had left her feeling numb and strangely distanced from other events in her life.

‘Explain what you mean about being set up,’ Drago demanded.

‘What’s the point?’ She tore her eyes from his hard-boned face, hating the way her body responded to him. ‘You have already judged me. The only person who can exonerate me is Angelo.’

The strident ring of his phone made them both jump. Drago frowned when he saw the hospital consultant’s number flash on the caller display, and he quickly answered. After a terse conversation in Italian he ended the call and stared across the table at Jess.

‘Angelo has just regained consciousness—and he has asked for you.’