Читать книгу The Italian's Unwilling Wife - Kathryn Ross, Kathryn Ross - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

FOR one horrible moment she thought he was going to turn the key in the lock, leaving her stranded outside in the dark in her dressing gown. But to her relief the door opened easily as she turned the handle.

With a mixture of trepidation and fury, she glanced around. His bag was at the base of the stairs and she could hear him opening and closing cupboard doors in the kitchen.

She followed the sounds and watched from the doorway as he found a bottle of vodka and poured himself a drink. ‘What are you playing at?’

‘I think I just told you.’ He lifted the glass in a mocking salute.

With difficulty she reined in her temper. This situation was not going to be resolved by losing her cool.

‘Damon, you can’t stay here. It’s not appropriate.’

He laughed at that. ‘As if you’d know anything about appropriate behaviour! I have to say, all those years mixing with the aristocracy at those English boarding schools weren’t wasted, were they? You’ve certainly learnt the art of pretending to be genteel.’

With difficulty she ignored the insult. ‘This isn’t solving anything. Why don’t you go and check into a hotel for tonight and then come back tomorrow? We can talk properly when we have both calmed down and are thinking rationally.’

‘I am calm.’ He took a sip of his drink and regarded her levelly over the rim of the crystal glass. ‘And I’m thinking very rationally. It’s one in the morning, there’s a storm coming in, and I have no intention of going to a hotel now—especially as I own a perfectly good house here.’

‘Damon this is ridiculous!’ Her voice rose in panic. ‘You are not being at all reasonable.’

One dark eyebrow rose. ‘Really? I think given the circumstances I’m being extremely reasonable. Let’s look at the facts, shall we? You don’t actually own this property. In fact, you are heavily in debt and behind with rent—’

‘I am no such thing!’

‘Plus you’ve hidden my child away from me, depriving me of precious time with him,’ Damon continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I don’t think any court is going to look too kindly on you at all. In fact, I think you will be the one who is judged unreasonable.’

‘You’re twisting the facts!’ She pushed a distraught hand through her blonde hair. ‘I didn’t know I was pregnant until after you’d gone. I didn’t hide anything. And will you stop pretending that you give a damn about having a child? We both know that you would still have walked away from him even if I’d told you I was pregnant.’

‘Do we?’ Damon’s voice grated with sarcasm. ‘You don’t know the first thing about what I would have done, because you don’t really know the first thing about me.’

‘I know that you are a playboy who likes to roam the pleasure fields.’

‘Certainly.’ He inclined his head. ‘And I never planned on having children of my own. But you’ve changed that.’

Damon looked at her pointedly. ‘Enlighten me, Abbie. What were you planning on telling my son when he gets older? That his father is dead? Or that his father didn’t want to know him?’

Abbie hesitated. ‘I wouldn’t have lied to him. I’d have handled it.’

‘Believe me, no matter how you handled it, it still wouldn’t have been right.’ Damon’s voice was heavy. He remembered all too well what it was like growing up without a parent. His mother had walked out of the family home when he was eight. It was so easy to screw up a child’s life. Maybe that was why he had avoided settling down and having children. The responsibility was awesome, and he believed implacably that a child deserved two parents and a stable home.

‘You had no right to keep Mario a secret from me.’ Damon’s eyes burnt into hers. ‘Any court will tell you that.’

‘He wasn’t a secret. And will you stop talking about courts and judgements!’

He shrugged and took another sip of his drink. ‘Courts and judgements are very much the reality; you better get used to it.’

‘Why are you being like this?’ The question sprang from her lips with anguish.

‘Like what?’

‘So…brutal…as if you want to punish me.’

He looked at her then, and gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘Why do you think?’

The sardonic question tore at her. ‘My father was right—this is all about revenge, isn’t it?’ She made herself say the words, her voice trembling with emotion.

He took another sip of his drink, and then threw the remaining contents of the glass down the sink.

‘You’re angry about what my father did, and I understand that.’ Abbie tried very hard to remain calm. ‘And I’m sorry for my part in it. But as I tried to explain long ago, it wasn’t my fault I—’

‘Of course not. But then shallow, spoilt socialites like you don’t believe in taking responsibility for your actions, do you? You think you can do what you want, and sorry is just a word.’ His voice grated with sarcasm. ‘But let me assure you that angry is a bit of an understatement for how I’m feeling right now.’

Abbie glared at him furiously. ‘I am none of the things you have accused me of being.’

‘And Father Christmas really does slide down chimneys on Christmas Eve.’

The scorn in his voice made Abbie’s temper soar. But, as much as she would have loved him to know the truth about the past, she knew she could never tell him about her mother now. She had tried to explain her actions to him at their last meeting. She had braved the contempt in his eyes, and had haltingly started to open up to him, only to have him laugh scornfully in her face and cut her off. She couldn’t go through that again. The pain of trying to tell him something so raw, so deeply personal, was beyond endurance. And why should she put herself through that when it was clear his opinion of her hadn’t changed? He thought she was a liar, and he wouldn’t listen to any explanation—wouldn’t believe her, anyway. It all hurt far too much.

Some things were best left in the past, she told herself firmly. What mattered now was her child’s welfare.

That fact made her swallow her fury and keep her cool. ‘So you want to punish me,’ she forced herself to continue. ‘I can handle that. But going to a court to get access to a child you don’t want—that isn’t going to make this right. Please don’t take this out on Mario.’

‘How do you know I don’t want him? You’re making sweeping assumptions.’ Damon’s voice was cool. ‘What did you think was going to happen when your father told me I had a child? Did you think I’d just throw money at you and disappear? If that’s what you want, then you are dreaming. Because, believe it or not, I’m thinking about what is best for my son now. Something you seem incapable of.’

‘I have always put my son first,’ Abbie told him fiercely. ‘And I don’t want anything from you.’

He fixed her with a look that told her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t believe her.

She swept an unsteady hand through her hair. Obviously he was never going to believe that she was anything other than a scheming witch. ‘So what are you going to do?’ she asked quietly. ‘What do you consider best for Mario?’

Damon didn’t answer her immediately. He appeared to be thinking about his options. Abbie could feel her nerves twisting and stretching. Was he deliberately trying to torment her? Was this part of his revenge? Maybe she should be flinging herself on his mercy instead of being confrontational.

But on the other hand maybe that was what he wanted. Her father used to enjoy controlling her through fear. When she’d tried to rebel, he’d reminded her of what he could do, and she would be yanked quickly back into line.

The memory made her angle her chin up defiantly to meet Damon’s cool gaze. She had sworn that no one would ever have that power over her again. ‘If you go for custody, I’ll fight you every step of the way.’

‘That’s your prerogative.’ He shook his head. ‘I admire your spirit—but of course I will break it.’

He watched the bright glitter of fury in her eyes. She was so very beautiful—more so than she had been at eighteen; her father had been right about that. The thought stole, unwelcome, into his mind and he found his gaze drifting down once more over her body. He could see the firm curves of her breasts through the thin silk of the gown, and because the bright lights of the lounge were behind her he could also see the long, shapely outline of her legs.

She had always been attractive, but she had matured into a stunningly desirable package. Pity about her cold, mercenary heart, he thought dryly.

Abbie noticed the way he looked at her—noticed, and bizarrely felt her body throb, as if his eyes were actually touching her. She tried to ignore the feeling, tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. How could she feel like this when her mind was racing with fear—when she hated him? ‘Maybe you just have rage issues that need to be readdressed, Damon,’ she said evenly.

He laughed. ‘Maybe you are right.’ He put his glass down on the draining board with a thud.

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘Right now, I’m going to bed,’ he said calmly.

‘You can’t!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you can’t make statements like that and just leave things! I need to know what your intentions are regarding Mario. You are not really thinking of fighting me for custody, are you?’

Damon stared at her for a moment. When John Newland had told him he was a father, he had been shocked—then he had been furious. All kinds of emotions had been racing through him ever since. Some of the feelings had come as a complete surprise to him—such as the feeling of protectiveness when he had looked down at his sleeping child.

Yes, he’d decided a long time ago that he wasn’t going to settle down and have children. But the fact was he had a child, and abandoning him wasn’t an option. He couldn’t walk away from that responsibility; he strongly believed in doing the right thing.

But what was the right thing in this situation? His eyes flicked over towards Abbie, and for a second he found himself thinking about her father’s words to him in the boardroom.

Abbie could be of use to him.

The words sizzled provocatively through his consciousness. Abruptly he tried to dismiss them. ‘I’ll sleep on the problem, and we’ll discuss terms in the morning,’ he grated tersely.

He was so arrogant! So infuriating! She watched as he walked past her towards the lounge.

‘I don’t want to discuss terms in the morning. I want to discuss terms now! And it may have escaped your notice but there are no spare beds in the house. All the rooms you looked into tonight are empty. The only other bed in the house is mine.’

He turned slowly and looked at her. ‘Is that an invitation?’

He watched the flare of heat under the creaminess of her skin with detachment.

‘You know it’s not.’

‘Do I?’ He shrugged. ‘Nothing you would stoop to would surprise me. In fact, when I faced your father in the boardroom at Newland he made me a very bizarre offer.’

‘What kind of an offer?’

‘The deal was that I help him retain his place on the board, and in return I get you.’

‘What do you mean, you get me?’ Her voice was stiff.

‘Just what I said. In return for my help getting him back on the board of directors, he said he could arrange for you to… Well, accommodate me in whatever way I saw fit, really. I’m not sure if he was selling you as a trophy wife who would have very useful business connections, or the convenient mistress there to entertain me in bed, plus play hostess when required—that kind of thing. Of course, the second option caught my interest more at first. As you know, I’m not the settling-down type. But then, I didn’t know I had a child at that point.’

He watched the colour flooding back into her cheeks. ‘Don’t worry, I turned him down. My motto has always been to cut out the middleman. Dealing direct is a much more satisfactory solution, don’t you think?’

‘What I think is that you are just as vile as my father.’ Her voice trembled alarmingly. Just when she thought her father couldn’t get any lower in her estimation, he sank to new depths. She felt degraded and humiliated by him—soiled by association.

‘Dear me, have you had a fall-out with darling Daddy?’ Damon walked back towards her and reached out to trail a finger down over the smoothness of her skin. ‘What’s the matter, are you annoyed because he can’t bankroll you anymore?’

She flinched at the touch of his hand. She didn’t know what hurt more, her father’s disgusting business proposition or Damon’s glib acceptance that she would be in any way amenable towards it!

His eyes held with her glittering gaze. ‘Never mind. Although I’ve cut your father out of the equation, I’m still weighing all the possibilities up, I assure you. Trophy wife versus convenient mistress…’ He shrugged. ‘Or should I just take custody of Mario and walk away… The choices are endless.’

‘You wouldn’t get custody of Mario,’ Abbie told him heatedly. ‘And I wouldn’t marry you if you were…if you were the last man left on the planet and lived in a gold-plated palace.’ She angled her head up proudly.

Damon laughed at that. ‘Oh, but we both know that you would.’

‘You always did have an inflated opinion of yourself.’

‘I just know how Ms Abigail Newland’s gold-digging mind works.’

‘You know nothing about me. I would rather die than go along with the idea.’

Damon smiled ‘You didn’t pass away with righteous indignation when you got involved with your father’s deals last time.’

He watched her lips part noiselessly, watched the shadows flicker across the beauty of her eyes. ‘That was different.’

Damon shook his head. She was a good actress, he’d give her that. ‘You go where the money is—your father told me that about you over two years ago.’

He watched as her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. She had such slender hands. Everything about her was so feminine; even her rage was simmering, contained—lady-like. Although, he remembered that in bed she hadn’t been quite so restrained—not once he’d taught her what he liked and how he liked it.

He wished he could stop thinking about that. But the fact was he couldn’t.

From the moment she had opened the front door to him tonight, he’d known that sexually he still wanted her.

He wanted her now. The strength of that need totally infuriated him. How could he feel like this when he knew her for what she was—disliked her, even?

He hated that. But it was a fact, and no matter how he kept telling himself to ignore it he couldn’t. So what the hell was he going to do about it?

His eyes moved up over her body slowly, appraisingly. He had no doubt in his mind that she had known about her father’s offer to him and had been hoping to play it for all it was worth.

Maybe the best thing to do here was to take control and play her at her own game. The more he thought about that idea, the more he liked it.

‘So…’ His tone was measured, his mind ticking over his options. ‘You want to talk terms? Let’s talk terms.’

The way he was looking at her was anything but clinical, yet the tone of his voice was detached, objective. What the hell was running through his mind now? Abbie wondered nervously. She moved her hands to draw her gown more tightly around her body, unaware that the instinctively protective gesture only showed her figure to clearer advantage.

She wanted to tell him to get out, that she wouldn’t talk to him after the things he had said to her—the things he had insinuated. But she forced herself to calm down and think about what was important. And that was Mario. ‘My terms are that my child stays where he belongs, and that’s with me. Let’s face it, Damon, you are a businessman who jets off around the world at a moment’s notice. You sit in meetings that run on until the small hours. That doesn’t fit with looking after a twenty-one-month-old baby. He’s a full-time commitment.’

‘Yes, he is. And that’s the one reason I’m prepared to offer you a good deal.’

‘What kind of a good deal?’ The words were out before she could consider them, and she instantly regretted them as she saw the way his lips curved in a cool smile.

‘You see? The Abigail Newland I know is never far away, is she?’ he hissed. His eyes swept over her body again with a hard gleam of male appraisal. ‘In a nutshell?’ He shrugged. ‘I guess your father’s idea isn’t completely off the wall. I suppose you would be a convenient package. You are the mother of my child and we understand each other. And, I have to admit, the whole idea of having a lady in the lounge and a whore in the bedroom does appeal.’

Fury swept through her at those mocking words. ‘Well, maybe you’d better put an advert in the paper, because I sure as hell am not interested.’ Her eyes flashed fire at him. ‘The thought of you laying one finger on me makes me nauseous.’

She would have marched past him and out of the room at that point, but he caught hold of her arm and pulled her back.

‘We both know that’s not true.’ Although his hand was holding her firmly, the touch of his skin against hers was like an electric shock sending weird little darts through her body, intruding on her rational mind—making her tremble deep-down inside.

He was right—it wasn’t true. It was a long time since they had made love, but she remembered how much she had liked it—remembered how blissful it was to lose herself to the masterful dominance of his caresses, his kisses.

Why was she thinking like this? She hated him, she reminded herself fiercely. He had just insulted her beyond belief—hurt her beyond belief. Had she no self-respect?

‘Let me go.’ Her voice was harsh with reaction.

‘You haven’t heard the terms of the deal yet.’

‘I don’t want to hear the terms of the deal. I’m not interested.’

‘Of course you are.’ Damon smiled, but his eyes were singularly lacking in amusement. ‘Your father has lost everything, and that means you have lost the goose that lays the golden eggs—you’ve even lost this place. But I can make everything better again.’

‘All I have to do is prostitute myself to you—is that it?’ Her voice was raw.

‘Actually, as the mother of my child I’m prepared to offer you a better deal than that.’ Damon spoke calmly, but his eyes seemed to bore down through hers. ‘All you have to do is come back to Sicily with me and play at being the perfect wife and mother. Of course, you will have to share my bed. But in return I’ll keep you in the style and comfort that you are used to.’

Abbie stared at him, her heart thundering against her chest. She just couldn’t believe what she was hearing, or the fact that he was saying these things to her in such a clinical and calculating fashion.

‘You’ll have to sign a prenuptial agreement, of course. But as long as you abide by my terms and stay in the marriage you will have everything you want.’

‘That’s supposed to be a good deal, is it?’ Abbie suddenly found her voice, but she was almost spluttering with rage. ‘You really think I’d marry you? You’ve got a high opinion of yourself, haven’t you? I don’t even like you.’

‘It’s the best deal you are going to get, Abbie. The prenuptial agreement is non-negotiable.’

The harsh tone took her breath away.

‘Your arrogance is incredible. You think I’d tie myself into a loveless marriage for…for—?’

‘For wealth, security and all the baubles and trappings of luxury you could possibly want?’ Damon cut across her dryly. ‘Yes, I do. So let’s just cut the pretence, shall we?’

‘Yes, let’s.’ Her voice trembled. ‘Because the truth is that even for all the money in the world I wouldn’t want to share a house with you, never mind a bed. The very thought leaves me cold.’

Damon laughed.

‘What is so funny?’ She glared at him.

‘You are. We both know that there’s nothing cold about you. Maybe we don’t like each other very much.’ He shrugged. ‘But we have a certain thing called chemistry. When I touch you, you come alive. Sex was always good between us.’

‘As I said, you are the most conceited, arrogant man I have ever—’ She broke off as he started to pull her closer.

‘What are you doing?’ She tried to wrench away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go.

‘I’m going to kiss you and prove a point.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Her eyes blazed up into his.

He smiled at her. ‘The sooner you accept the fact that I’m calling the shots now, the easier it’s going to be all around.’

‘I will accept no such thing!’

Her breathing was coming in short, uneven gasps from anger and from the effort of struggling against him.

‘You are just making life difficult for yourself.’

‘No, you are making my life difficult! But that’s what you want, isn’t it?’

‘No, Abbie, right now that’s not what I want.’

There was something husky about those words, something strangely inviting. His gaze moved to her mouth.

And suddenly, as his head moved lower, she stopped struggling. She wanted him to kiss her. It was as if a tidal wave of desire suddenly hit her out of nowhere, flooding her entire body, pulling her under into very dangerous currents.

His lips touched against hers, gentle at first, and then as they tasted her acquiescence they became hard, demanding and brutal. She found herself kissing him back with equal strength, as if she couldn’t get enough of him, as if she were intoxicated by his strength, by his passion.

Then suddenly, as she reached up to touch him, he pulled back from her.

She looked up at him, dazed by what had just happened. His gaze moved from her lips, down to the plunging neckline of her robe.

She noticed the look, and was suddenly very aware of the fact that if he reached out with his other hand he could pull her robe down from her shoulders, leaving her naked to his gaze.

For a shocking moment she wanted him to do that! She wanted him to touch her intimately, wanted to melt in against the powerful contours of his body. The feeling of longing overwhelmed her, rendered her helpless.

His dark eyes returned to hold hers, and there was a gleam of satisfaction there. ‘You see, Abbie? You don’t need to like me to make this arrangement work. All you need is to be your hot-blooded self and, of course, the perfect mother for Mario.’

Shame washed through her in waves. Why the hell had she kissed him back like that? Why?

She angled her chin up and forced herself to glare at him defiantly. ‘I kissed you.’ She shrugged. ‘So what? Maybe I just wanted to give you a taste of what you are missing when I walk away from…from your offer.’

‘Well, well,’ he drawled softly. ‘You really are—how is it you English say?—a chip off the old block, aren’t you? Trouble is that, like your father, you have very little ground for negotiation. I’m not going to up my offer, Abbie. The prenuptial agreement is non-negotiable. You take what’s on the table or you walk away.’

Her lips parted in a gasp as she realised he thought she was trying to make him increase his offer to her.

‘You really are insufferable.’ She grated the words unevenly, furious that he should make such an assumption. ‘I’m not remotely interested in your offer, or in you.’

The sensual line of his mouth curved into a smile as his eyes once more moved down over her body, to where her breasts were straining against the satin material. She knew he could see the hardness of her nipples through the thin material, shamefully giving away the fact that even though his hands hadn’t touched her she had been totally aroused.

‘But you are interested, Abbie, because power and money are powerful aphrodisiacs for you. You want me more than you can say.’

She shook her head. ‘I hate you!’

For one wild moment she thought he was going to pull her back into his arms to prove otherwise.

His lips stretched into even more of a mockingly amused smile. ‘Of course you do, and you hate my money even more.’

To her relief, he stepped back from her. ‘Well, why don’t you run along to that bed of yours? That’s if you really do want to go up there on your own.’

She didn’t need telling twice; she almost fell over herself in her haste to get away. ‘And why don’t you get out of my house?’

He ignored that, merely smiled. ‘Nice talking terms with you,’ he called to her as she moved through the lounge towards the stairs. ‘Think about my offer, because I’m only going to leave it open until tomorrow. After that, you will be doing all your negotiating with my lawyer. And, believe me, he won’t be nearly as accommodating.’