Читать книгу Bound To The Billionaire - Шантель Шоу, Christina Hollis - Страница 11

THEY WERE MET at the door of the intensive care unit by a smartly dressed woman whom Drago hurriedly introduced as his mother. Luisa Cassari subjected Jess to a sharp stare, which became speculative as she turned her gaze on her son.

‘I thought the new Cassari clothing range wasn’t going to be launched in stores until May, but I see Miss Harper is already wearing pieces from the collection.’

Drago met his mother’s enquiry coolly. ‘It was necessary to provide Jess with something to wear after she lost all her belongings.’

Her brows rose as she glanced back at Jess. ‘How did you lose your things?’

‘Um…I fell into the canal.’ Jess felt her face burning. ‘It’s a long story,’ she mumbled.

‘And an intriguing one, I’m sure.’

There followed a rapid conversation in Italian between mother and son, and Jess was surprised to see that Drago looked faintly uncomfortable.

‘We should be concentrating on Angelo,’ he told his mother, reverting back to English and speaking in a firm tone that caused Luisa to compress her lips. But she made no further comment as Drago placed his hand on Jess’s shoulder and pushed her towards the bed.

Aunt Dorotea was gripping Angelo’s hand while tears streamed down her face.

Drago spoke to the doctor who was standing nearby. ‘What’s happened?’

‘He came round a few minutes ago and asked for his mother. He was lucid, and the signs are good that he is emerging from the coma.’ The doctor looked at Jess. ‘He also murmured your name. I think it would help if he heard your voice.’

Supremely conscious that everyone in the room was watching her, Jess leaned over the bed and said softly, ‘Hi, Angelo. It’s great to have you back.’

His eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. ‘Jess?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’ Tears clogged her throat so that her voiced emerged as a croaky whisper. She felt weak with relief that Angelo was back from the brink.

His eyes had closed, but now they opened again. ‘What happened to me?’

After darting a questioning glance at the doctor, Jess said gently, ‘You had a car accident. Do you remember?’

Angelo’s brow furrowed. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I needed to tell Drago something…but I don’t remember what it was.’ He focused unsteadily on Jess and managed a faint smile. ‘I know that we are friends.’ His smile faded. ‘But I don’t remember how I know you. I don’t remember anything…except that I had to see Drago urgently.’

‘I’m here,’ Drago said gruffly, struggling to control his emotions. ‘Take it easy, Angelo. I’m sure your memory will come back soon.’

Angelo turned his head on the pillow and smiled at his mother. ‘Ciao, Mamma.’

Aunt Dorotea promptly burst into tears again, and as she leaned across the bed to kiss her son Drago indicated that Jess should step back.

‘Aren’t you going to ask him about his inheritance money?’ she demanded in a fierce whisper, while the doctor and nursing staff crowded around the bed.

‘He’s hardly in a fit state. You heard what he said. He doesn’t remember anything at the moment. I need to have a word with the doctor about Angelo’s memory loss.’

Drago followed the consultant out of the room, and when he returned a few minutes later his expression was grim. Angelo had fallen into a peaceful sleep, and Drago spoke in a low voice.

‘The consultant says that amnesia after a head injury is fairly common, but he can’t predict how long it will last. There are some other issues that he is more concerned about—particularly the serious break to Angelo’s left leg, which will require surgery.’ His aunt gasped, and he put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Try not to worry,’ he told her gently. ‘The doctor says he will be fine, and he is sure that in time his memory will return. A brain scan will tell us more. But for now we must be patient, and not excite or upset Angelo in any way that could hinder his recovery.’

He looked at Jess as he made this last statement, the hard expression in his black eyes warning her not to say anything until they had moved away from Angelo’s bedside. Holding open the door, he waited for her to precede him out into the corridor.

‘The consultant believes you could be the key to Angelo regaining his memory,’ he told her. ‘The fact that he remembers you, but not the accident, means that the amnesia is patchy, and if you keep talking to him you may jog his memory into returning fully.’

But until his memory did return she was still under suspicion from Drago and the other members of Angelo’s family, who believed she had persuaded him to give her a fortune, Jess realised heavily. ‘It could take days, or even weeks before he regains his memory.’ A note of panic crept into her voice. ‘You can’t possibly expect me to stay in Venice indefinitely.’

‘That’s exactly what I expect,’ Drago said coolly. ‘Angelo’s mind is trapped at a point in time when he believes you are his friend. When his memory eventually returns he may be able to explain why he told his mother that he gave you his inheritance fund and the truth of the matter will be revealed. But until then you will stay at the Palazzo d’Inverno as my guest.’

‘As your prisoner, you mean,’ she said angrily. ‘Guests aren’t usually locked in their room. Much as I want to help, I can’t abandon my business.’ She felt bad about leaving Angelo, but her team of workmen relied on her. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go back to London.’

Drago’s dark brows lifted in the arrogant expression Jess was becoming familiar with. ‘How do you intend to do that without a passport or money?’

‘I suppose I’ll have to go to the British Embassy and report that I’ve lost my passport.’ In truth she did not have a clue how she was going to get home, but she did not want him to guess she was worried.

‘You don’t even have money to pay for a taxi to the airport, much less an air ticket to London,’ he pointed out. ‘You should be grateful that I have offered you somewhere to stay.’

The mockery in his voice ignited Jess’s temper. ‘Grateful? I’d rather take my chances in a pit of rattlesnakes than stay with you.’ Her voice rose as she forgot that they were standing outside Angelo’s room, within earshot of Drago’s mother and aunt, not to mention half a dozen medical staff. Fury flashed in her green eyes. ‘You are a dictatorial, egotistical—’ She broke off and gave a startled gasp when his arm shot around her waist and he dragged her hard up against him. Too late she realised that she had pushed him beyond the limits of his patience.

‘And you have viper’s tongue,’ Drago growled, before he silenced her by bringing his mouth down on hers in a punishing kiss designed to prove his dominance.

Determined not to respond, Jess clamped her lips together, but her senses were swamped by the tantalising scent of his aftershave and the feel of his smooth cheek brushing against hers. His warm breath filled her mouth as he teased her lips apart with his tongue, probing insistently until with a low moan she sank against him, a prisoner to his masterful passion. But he was as much a slave to the explosive sexual chemistry that burned like a white-hot flame between them as she was, she realised, when he cupped her bottom and pulled her into the cradle of his thighs, so that she was intensely aware of his powerful erection.

His breathing was ragged when he finally tore his mouth from hers, and the savage glitter in his eyes echoed the harshness of his voice. ‘Madonna, I think you must be a witch. You are driving me crazy.’ His lip curled with self-disgust. ‘My cousin has serious injuries, the extent of which are not fully known, yet all I can think about is how goddamned beautiful you are and how badly I want you.’

Jess was shaken to hear him admit he was attracted to her. But rather than feeling triumphant that a man as gorgeous and sexy as Drago desired her she was afraid of where their mutual awareness might lead, and terrified that she would be unable to resist him if he kissed her again.

‘Let me go,’ she pleaded huskily. ‘If you help me get to England I’ll repay you the cost of my flight, and I promise I’ll come back to visit Angelo.’

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight until I find out what happened to my cousin’s inheritance.’

The door to Angelo’s room suddenly opened, making them spring apart. But not quickly enough to escape Drago’s mother’s keen scrutiny. Jess’s mouth felt swollen and her breasts ached with a sweet heaviness. A glance downwards revealed that her nipples were plainly visible, jutting beneath the fine material of her blouse. She hastily crossed her arms in front of her, blushing furiously when Luisa stared at her and then at her son.

‘Angelo would like to see you,’ she said to Jess. ‘If you are not busy?’ she added, in a tone as dry as a desert.

‘I’ll come and sit with him,’ she mumbled. She felt humiliated by the look of disdain in Luisa Cassari’s eyes, but Drago seemed indifferent to his mother’s disapproval. He was reading a message he had received on his phone and then glanced briefly at Jess.

‘I need to go to the office for a couple of hours. When you have spent some time with Angelo my bodyguard will take you back to the palazzo.’

As he spoke the stocky man who had met them at the airport the previous day walked down the corridor towards them. Fico planted himself outside Angelo’s room and crossed his arms over his massive chest.

‘He doesn’t speak a word of English,’ Drago murmured. ‘And he is under strict orders to escort you from the hospital straight to my house.’

Anger surged through her. ‘In other words he’s my jailer?’

He gave a laconic shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Jess muttered sarcastically. As she turned away from him and marched into Angelo’s room she was unaware of a flare of amusement and grudging admiration in Drago’s eyes.

Much later that night, Drago strode through the Palazzo d’Inverno, his solitary footsteps echoing hollowly on the marble staircase. It was not the first time he had instructed the household staff not to wait up for him, nor the first time he had missed dinner because he’d had to deal with a crisis at work.

No doubt Jess would have been glad of his absence this evening, he mused. She had already left the hospital with Fico by the time he had arrived to visit his cousin and meet with Angelo’s medical team. The young man’s injuries were serious, and he faced a long road back to recovery, but thank God he had not suffered brain damage. The brain scan had revealed severe bruising, and there was the worry of his memory loss, but there was every reason to hope that the amnesia would be short-lived. Once Angelo’s memory had returned hopefully he would shed some light on the matter of his missing inheritance fund and confirm if he had given the money to Jess—something she strenuously denied.

Madonna! How had she crept into his mind again? Drago asked himself angrily. He had accused her of being a witch. Perhaps she really was a sorceress and had cast a spell on him? Even during the emergency board meeting he’d chaired to discuss a problem that had arisen with a new project in China he had struggled to keep his thoughts from wandering to the sassy, sexy redhead who was currently a guest or a prisoner at his home, depending on your viewpoint.

Jess had made her feelings very clear, he thought wryly. She had antagonised him until he had kissed her, but when she had kissed him back his anger had turned to scorching desire. For the rest of the day he had been able to taste her on his lips, and the lingering scent of her perfume still tormented him. Guilt assailed him that Jess dominated his thoughts, but he was relieved to know for certain that she and his cousin were not lovers. Angelo had given him a curious look when Drago had asked him about his relationship with Jess, but had explained that they were simply friends.

The chef had left a platter of cold meats and salad in the fridge for him. Drago carried his supper up to his room, his footsteps slowing as he walked past Jess’s bedroom and saw light filtering beneath the door. Ignoring the temptation to check if she was awake, he carried on into his suite of rooms, flicked on the TV and forced himself to eat even though he had no appetite—at least not for food, he acknowledged, aware of a tightening sensation in his groin as an image of Jess lying naked on his bed flooded his mind.

Muttering a curse, he put down the plate and headed into the en suite bathroom, hoping that a shower would help to relieve his tension.

Jess felt too wound up to sleep. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling which, like in the first room she had occupied, before her ill-fated attempt to climb down from the balcony, was decorated with elaborate artwork. But even though the fresco depicting the goddess Aphrodite was beautiful she was bored with studying it—just as she was bored with watching television when all the programmes were in Italian.

Her mind returned to wondering why Drago had not returned to the palazzo for dinner. Not that she had wanted to spend time with him, and she certainly hadn’t changed into a gorgeous green silk dress from the Cassa di Cassari collection because she had hoped to impress him, but she had felt strangely lonely sitting on her own at the huge polished dining table. And that really did not make sense, because after growing up in the children’s home constantly surrounded by other kids she liked her own company.

Drago had probably gone to visit a girlfriend. It was inconceivable that a man as devastatingly handsome and sexy as he was did not have a lover—or maybe more than one. Good luck to them, she thought as she sat up and thumped her pillows. Any woman who took him on would have to cope with his arrogant and bossy nature.

A sudden crash, followed by a shout, shattered the silence. The sounds had been loud, even through the walls that separated her room from Drago’s, and the deathly quiet that followed seemed ominous to Jess’s overactive imagination. Curiosity got the better of her and she slid out of bed.

The door to Drago’s suite was shut. She knocked, but received no answer, and after a moment’s hesitation she turned the handle and found that the door was unlocked. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet as she crossed the sitting room. The door leading to his bedroom was ajar, and as she cautiously peeped round it she inhaled an overwhelmingly strong scent of aftershave.

Just then he emerged from the en suite bathroom, and the sight of his blood-soaked chest caused her to give a sharp cry.

‘Santa Madre!’ He stopped dead, clearly shocked to see her. ‘What are you doing, flitting around the house as noiselessly as a wraith?’

‘I heard a crash…’ Jess could not tear her eyes from what she now realised was a blood-stained towel wrapped around the hand that he was holding against his chest. ‘What have you done?’

He glanced down at his front and said wryly, ‘It’s not as bad as it looks. I cut my hand on some glass and it’s made a bloody mess—literally. I knocked a bottle of cologne into the sink and then compounded my clumsiness by trying to pick up the shards of glass. The damned cut won’t stop bleeding. Can you look in the bathroom cabinet for a bandage?’ He gave her an intent look when she hesitated. ‘Does the sight of blood bother you?’

No way was Jess going to admit that it was not the blood that bothered her but the sight of Drago’s naked, olive-skinned chest as he shrugged off his stained shirt. Her gaze was drawn to the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles, and followed the path of wiry black hair that arrowed down his torso and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

She swallowed, and replied in a faintly strained voice, ‘No. When I was a kid I regularly used to patch my dad up after he’d had some accident or other while he was drunk. Once he fell through a neighbour’s greenhouse and was cut to ribbons.’

Drago frowned. ‘How old were you when that happened?’

She shrugged. ‘Eight or so. Sit down while I dress the wound,’ she bade him, when she had followed him into the bathroom and found a medical box in the cupboard.

He sat on the edge of the bath and unwound the towel to reveal a deep cut across his palm. ‘I’ve kept pressure on it and elevated my hand. The bleeding seems to be easing.’

‘I don’t think it needs stitching,’ Jess said after she had inspected the wound. ‘You’re lucky.’

‘Sì.’ He could not disguise the weariness in his voice. ‘I don’t fancy another trip to the hospital tonight.’

She threw him a quick look. ‘Is that where you’ve been? I wondered why you weren’t at dinner.’

‘Why, cara, you almost sound as though you missed me,’ he drawled.

‘Of course I didn’t. Why would I miss my jailer?’ Aware that she was blushing, she concentrated on her task. ‘At least the cut will have been sterilised by the cologne,’ she murmured as she began to bandage his hand. ‘It smells like a sultan’s harem in here.’

‘Are you speaking from personal experience?’

Drago subjected her to a leisurely inspection that for some reason made her feel hot and shivery at the same time.

‘I’m sure you would be a sultan’s favourite concubine, with your creamy skin and fiery hair,’ he said softly.

Startled by the sudden change in his voice, from teasing to husky and achingly sensual, Jess caught her breath. Her eyes flew to his, and saw the undisguised hunger in his glittering stare. ‘Of course I’ve never been in a harem,’ she choked. ‘I would never be a man’s plaything. I believe in equality between men and women.’

Nothing on earth would make her confess her secret fantasy of being swept into the arms of a handsome, powerful man and being seduced on silken sheets. In the fantasy she fought against his dominance at first, but she could not resist the skilful touch of his hands and mouth as he aroused her and tormented her until she begged for him to possess her.

Her dream lover had never had a face—until now. She darted a glance at Drago’s chiselled features and felt her stomach dip. He was all her fantasies rolled into one, she acknowledged ruefully. His hard-boned masculine beauty was made even sexier by the shadow of dark stubble on his jaw. She stared at his mouth, remembering how it had felt on hers when he had kissed her, and unconsciously she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, as if she could recapture the taste of him.

The atmosphere in the bathroom altered subtly and the sexual tension was almost palpable. Drago was conscious of the slow thud of his heart, and even more aware of the throbbing ache in his groin, the urgent drumbeat of desire flooding through his veins. It had started with the brush of Jess’s fingers on his skin as she’d wrapped the bandage around his hand. The contrast of her pale fingers against his darkly tanned flesh had made him imagine her naked in his arms, her smooth white limbs entwined with his hair-roughened thighs.

But in all honesty it had started before that—when she had appeared in his room looking utterly delectable, wearing a nightgown from the Cassa di Cassari collection that was little more than a wisp of white silk and lace. She was an intriguing mixture of virginal innocence and sensual siren, with her crushed-berry lips and those startling green cat’s eyes.

As she leaned over him to tend to his hand he breathed in the delicate rose-scented fragrance of her skin, and the brush of her silky hair against his bare shoulder inflamed his senses. From the first moment he had seen her in London he had felt a primitive hunger to possess her and claim her as his woman. He was no Neanderthal; he was a twenty-first century guy who believed in equality between the sexes as much as she did. But his desire for her was a pagan force he had no control over.

He had never wanted any woman the way he wanted Jess, Drago acknowledged. The gentle concern in her eyes as she tied the bandage on his hand called to something deep inside him. Since the death of his father he had been the carer and protector of his family, always strong and in control. Tonight that control was slipping away from him. He was not thinking about his suspicion that she was involved with his cousin’s missing inheritance fund, or that she had once been convicted of fraud. All he could think of was that her glorious red-gold hair felt like silk when he brushed it back from her face, and her rose-flushed cheek was velvet-soft beneath his fingertips.

Driven purely by instinct, he threaded his fingers through her hair and drew her head towards him. He was still sitting on the edge of the bath, and her petite stature meant that her face was level with his and her lips were tantalisingly close. She did not resist or pull away, but he could hear the catch of her breath and see the pulse at the base of her throat beating frantically. For a few seconds they remained poised while anticipation built to an intolerable level. Their eyes locked and held, until with a harsh groan Drago slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with slow deliberation that quickly flared into a firestorm of passion.

Drago’s tongue probed expertly between Jess’s lips to coax them apart—although in truth he did not need to do much coaxing, she acknowledged ruefully. From the moment he had captured her mouth she had been lost, and with no thought in her head to deny him she parted her lips and heard him give a low groan as he explored her inner sweetness.

He was the man of her fantasies. The only man she had ever allowed to breach her defences since Seb. The memory of that disastrous relationship made her stiffen and question what she was doing. Drago had openly stated that he mistrusted her. Why, then, was she allowing him to kiss her? And why was she responding to him?

Because she could not help herself, whispered a little voice inside her head. Because the very first time she had seen him she had felt that she belonged in some deep and fundamental way to him. Her sensible self knew it was ridiculous; she did not need to belong to anyone, and she knew how dangerous it was to want to be cared for. She had fallen for Seb because she had been lonely and desperate to be loved. But he had abused her trust and she had vowed never to risk her heart again.

Drago finally broke the kiss and Jess knew she should pull out of his arms and end the madness. She knew it, but she could not do it. He trailed his lips over her cheek, her throat, and she shivered with pleasure when he found the sensitive place behind her ear.

‘Cara, you are so beautiful,’ he said raggedly, and his deeply sensual voice made her shiver again with a fierce, sharp need that started low in her belly and radiated through her so that every nerve-ending on her body felt acutely sensitive.

He captured the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat and then brushed his mouth along her collarbone. Her heart stopped when he slid the strap of her nightgown over her shoulder. Her breasts ached with a sweet heaviness, and when he brushed his fingers over the swollen peaks of her nipples, straining beneath the silk, she jerked as if an electrical current had shot through her.

He gave a husky laugh, but there was no amusement in eyes that were as black as jet and glittering with predatory intent. ‘I know. It’s the same for me too. The wanting. The hunger clawing in my gut.’

His jaw tightened and Jess sensed he was fighting an internal battle with himself, as if he resented his desire for her.

‘When you opened the door of your flat in London I took one look at you and knew I had to have you,’ he admitted in a driven tone.

‘Drago…’ Jess gave a keening cry when he tugged her nightgown lower and bared one of her breasts.

He stared at her, tension in every sculpted line of his face, his skin stretched tight over his sharp cheekbones. ‘No games,’ he said harshly. ‘If you don’t want this then go—now.’

He did not try to persuade her to stay with words and promises that they both knew would be false, and Jess was glad of that. She had been fooled by promises once before and her heart had been broken as a consequence. She was not a vulnerable seventeen-year-old any more, she reminded herself. She had grown up and discarded her silly dreams. Sexual desire was a perfectly natural feeling, and there was nothing wrong with wanting to give in to its demands. As long as she remembered to keep her head screwed on her heart would be in no danger.