Читать книгу Taming the Notorious Sicilian - Мишель Смарт, Michelle Smart - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

FRANCESCO SHOOK HIS HEAD. For the first time in his thirty-six years he was at a loss for words.

‘God, that came out all wrong.’ Hannah covered her face, clearly cringing. When she dropped her hands her face had paled but, to give her credit, she met his gaze with barely a flinch. ‘I didn’t mean it to come out quite so crudely. Please, say something.’

He shook his head again, trying to clear it. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

‘No.’

‘You’re a virgin?’

‘Yes.’

For a moment he seriously considered that he was in some kind of dream.

Had he fallen asleep at his desk?

Since the discovery of his mother’s diaries ten months ago, he’d been consumed with rage. This rage fuelled him. Indeed, for the past ten months, his drive had been working at full throttle. Only a month ago his doctor had told him to slow down, that he was at risk of burnout. Naturally, he’d ignored that advice. Francesco would not slow down until he had eradicated every last trace of Salvatore Calvetti’s empire.

And to think he’d almost missed those diaries. Had he not given the family home one last sweep before emptying it for sale, he would never have found them, hidden away in boxes in the cubbyhole of his mother’s dressing room. He hadn’t even intended to go into his mother’s rooms but the compulsion to feel close to her one last time had made him enter them for the first time in two decades.

Reading the diaries had been as close to torture as a man could experience. The respect he’d felt for his father, the respect that had made him a dutiful son while his father was alive, had died a brutal death.

His only regret was that he hadn’t learned the truth while his father was alive, would never have the pleasure of punishing him for every hour of misery he’d put his mother through. Duty would have gone to hell. He might just have helped his father into an early grave.

He hoped with every fibre of his being that his father was in hell. He deserved nothing less.

Because now he knew the truth. And he would not be satisfied until he’d destroyed everything Salvatore Calvetti had built, crushed his empire and his reputation. Left it for dust.

The truth consumed him. His hate fuelled him.

It was perfectly feasible he had fallen asleep.

Except he’d never had a dream that made his heart beat as if it would hammer through his ribcage.

He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the woman who had made such a confounding offer.

She looked ridiculous in her hen outfit, with the pink tutu, black leotard and leggings, and black ballet slippers. At least the other hens had made an effort, adorning their outfits with the sky-high heels women usually wore in his clubs. It didn’t even look as if Hannah had brushed her hair, never mind put any make-up on. What woman went clubbing without wearing make-up?

Indeed, he could not remember the last time he’d met a woman who didn’t wear make-up, full stop.

And she still had those ridiculous bunny ears on her head.

Yet there was something incredibly alluring about Hannah’s fresh-faced looks. Something different.

He’d thought she was different. He’d resisted her offer of a date a few short days ago because of it; because he’d thought she was too different, that she didn’t belong in his world.

Could he really have judged her so wrong?

What kind of woman offered her so-called virginity to a stranger?

And what the hell had compelled him to warn her groper off and not send one of his men in to resolve the situation? If he’d followed his usual procedures he wouldn’t be standing here now on the receiving end of one of the most bizarre offers he’d ever heard.

It had been watching that man paw her—and her dignity when rebuffing his advances—that had made something inside him snap.

The rules were the same in all his establishments, his staff trained to spot customers overstepping the mark in the familiarity stakes. The usual procedure was for one of his doormen to have a polite ‘word’ with the perpetrator. That polite word was usually enough to get them behaving.

Francesco might have little respect for the type of women who usually littered his clubs but that did not mean he would tolerate them being abused in any form.

In the shadows of his memory rested his mother, a woman who had tolerated far too much abuse. And he, her son, had been oblivious to it.

A rush of blood to his head had seen him off his seat, out of his office and onto the dance floor before his brain had time to compute what his feet were doing.

‘I have no idea what you’re playing at,’ he said slowly, ‘but I will not be a party to such a ridiculous game. I have given you your five minutes. It’s time for you to leave.’

This had to be a game. Hannah Chapman had discovered his wealth and, like so many others of her gender, decided she would like to access it.

It unnerved him how disappointed he felt.

‘This isn’t a game.’ She took a visibly deep breath. ‘Please. Francesco, I am a twenty-seven-year-old woman who has never had sex. I haven’t even kissed a man. It’s become a noose around my neck. I don’t want to stay a virgin all my life. All I want is one night to know what it feels like to be a real woman and you’re the only man I can ask.’

‘But why me?’ he asked, incredulous.

Her beautiful hazel eyes held his. ‘Because I trust that you won’t hurt me.’

‘How can you trust such a thing? I am a stranger to you.’

‘The only men I meet are fellow doctors and patients. The patients are a big no-no, and the few single doctors I know...we work too closely together. You might be a stranger but I know you’ll treat me with respect. I know you would never laugh at me or make fun about me being a twenty-seven-year-old virgin behind my back.’

‘That’s an awful lot of supposition you’re making about me.’

‘Maybe.’ She raised her shoulders in a helpless gesture. ‘I thought I was dead. When I opened my eyes and saw your face I thought you’d come to take me to heaven. All I can think now is what if... What if I had died? I’ve done nothing with my life.’

‘Hardly,’ he said harshly. ‘You’re a doctor. That takes dedication.’

‘For me, it’s taken everything. I’m not naturally bright—I had to work hard to get my grades, to learn and to keep learning. In the process I’ve been so focused on my career that I’ve allowed my personal life to go to ruin.’ The same groove he remembered from the other evening reappeared on her forehead. ‘I don’t want to die a virgin.’

Francesco rubbed his neck.

It seemed she was serious.

Of course, she could be lying. Having discovered who he was, this could be a clever, convoluted game to access his life and wealth.

Yet her explanation made a mad kind of sense.

He remembered the expression of serenity that had crossed her face at the moment she’d opened her eyes and looked at him, remembered her words and the fuzzy feelings they had evoked in him.

Something had passed between them—something fleeting but tangible.

There was no way Hannah could have known who he was at that moment.

One thing he did know was that she had gained a false impression of him. If she knew who he really was, he would be the last man she would make such a shameless proposition to.

Regardless, he could hardly credit how tempted he was.

He was a red-blooded male. What man wouldn’t be tempted by such an offer?

But Hannah was a virgin, he reminded himself—despite the fact that he’d thought virgins over the age of eighteen were from the tales of mythology.

Surely this was every man’s basest fantasy? A virgin begging to be deflowered.

‘You have no idea who I am,’ he told her flatly.

‘Are you talking about the gangster thing?’

‘The gangster thing?’ His voice took on a hint of menace. How could she be so blasé about it? Was she so naive she didn’t understand his life wasn’t something watched from the safety of a television set, played by men who likely had manicures between takes?

Scrutinising her properly, her innocence was obvious. She had an air about her—the same air he saw every time he looked through his parents’ wedding album. His mother had had that air when she’d married his father, believing it to be a love match, blissfully oblivious to her husband’s true nature, and the true nature of his business affairs.

Hannah raised her shoulders again. ‘I’ve read all about you on the internet. I know what it says your family are.’

‘And do you believe everything you read on the internet?’

‘No.’ She shook her head to emphasise her point.

Deliberately, he stepped towards her and into her space. He brought his face down so it was level with hers. ‘You should believe it. Because it’s true. Every word. I am not a good person for you to know. I am the last person a woman like you should get involved with.’

She didn’t even flinch. ‘A woman like me? What does that mean?’

‘You’re a doctor. You do not belong in my world.’

‘I just want one night in your world, that’s all. One night. I don’t care what’s been written about you. I know you would never hurt me.’

‘You think?’ Where had she got this ludicrous faith in him from? He had to eradicate it, make her see enough of the truth to scare her all the way back to the safety of her hospital.

He straightened to his full height, an act capable of intimidating even the hardest of men. He breached the inches between them to reach into her thick mane of hair and tug the rabbit ears free. They were connected by some kind of plastic horseshoe that he dropped onto the floor and placed a foot on. He pressed down until he heard the telltale crunch.

She stared at him with that same serene look in her hazel eyes.

‘Tell me,’ he said, gently twisting her around so her back was flush against him, ‘how, exactly, do you want me to take your virginity?’

He heard an intake of breath.

Good. He’d unnerved her.

Gathering her hair together, he inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo. Her hair felt surprisingly soft. ‘Do you want me to take you here and now?’

He trailed a finger down her exposed slender neck, over the same collarbone that had been broken less than two months before, and down her toned arm before reaching round to cup a breast flattened by the leotard she wore.

‘Or do you want me to take you on a bed?’ He traced his thumb over a nipple that shot out beneath his touch.

‘I...’ Her voice came out like a whimper. ‘I...’

‘You must have some idea of how you would like me to perform the deed,’ he murmured, breathing into her ear and nuzzling his nose into a cheek as soft as the finest silk. ‘Is foreplay a requirement? Or do you just want to get it over with?’

‘I...I know what you’re doing.’

‘All I’m doing is ascertaining how, exactly, you would like me to relieve you of your virginity. I can do it now if you would like.’ He pressed his groin into the small of her back so as to leave her in no doubt how ready he was. ‘Right here, over the desk? Up against the wall? On the floor?’

Much as he hated himself for it, his body was responding to her in the basest of fashions.

He would control it, just as he controlled everything else.

He would not give in to temptation.

He would make the good doctor see just how wrong she was about him.

Hannah Chapman was one of the few people in the world who made a difference.

He would not be the one to taint her, no matter how much he desired her or how much she wanted it.

He was better than that. He was better than the man who had created him, who would, no doubt, have already relieved Hannah of her virginity if he’d been in Francesco’s shoes.

He would not be that man. And if he had to come on heavy to make her run away, then that was what he would do. Reasoning clearly didn’t work with her.

‘You’re trying to scare me off.’

Francesco stilled at her astuteness.

Although her breaths were heavy, he could feel her defiance through the rigidity of her bones.

It was with far too much reluctance that he released his hold and turned her back round to face him.

Hannah’s hair tumbled back around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide. Yet there was no fear. Apprehension, yes, but no fear.

‘You are playing with fire, Dr Chapman.’

She gave a wry smile. ‘I’m trained to treat burns.’

‘Not the kind you will get from me. You’ll have to find another man to do the job. I’m not for hire.’

His mind flashed to the man who’d been groping Hannah earlier—who, he imagined, would be more than happy to accede to her request. He banished the image. Who she chose was none of his concern.

All the same, the thought of that man pawing at her again sent a sharp, hot flush racing through him. She was too...pure.

A shrewdness came into her eyes, although how such a look could also be gentle totally beat him.

She tilted her head to the side. ‘Do I scare you?’

‘On the contrary. It is you who should be afraid of me.’

‘But I’m not scared of you. I don’t care about your reputation. I’m not after a relationship or anything like that—the only thing being with you makes me feel is good. After everything you’ve done for me, how can I not trust that?’

He shook his head.

This was madness.

He should call his guards and have her escorted out of his club. But he wouldn’t.

Francesco had heard stories about people who saved lives being bound to the person they’d saved, and vice versa. And while he hadn’t saved her in a technical sense, it was the only explanation he could think of for the strange chemistry that brewed between them. Total strangers yet inexplicably linked.

Something had passed between them, connecting them.

It was his duty to sever that link. His duty. Not his guards’.

He would make her see.

‘You think I’m worthy of your trust?’ Unthinkingly, he reached out a hand and captured a lock of her hair.

‘I know you are.’ Reclosing the gap between them, she tilted her head back a little and placed a hand on his cheek. ‘Don’t you see? A lesser man wouldn’t try to scare me off—he would have taken what I offered without a second thought.’

His skin tingled beneath the warmth of her fingers. He wanted to clasp those fingers, interlace his own through them....

‘I’m not cut out for any form of relationship—my career matters too much for me to compromise it—but I want to feel.’ She brought her face closer so her nose skimmed against his throat, her breath a whisper against his sensitised skin. ‘I want one night where I can throw caution to the wind. I want to know what it’s like to be made love to and I want it to be you because you’re the only man I’ve met who makes me feel alive without even touching me.’

Francesco could hardly breathe. His fingers still held the lock of her hair. The desire that had been swirling in his blood since he’d nuzzled into her neck thickened.

When had he ever felt as if he could explode from arousal?

This was madness.

‘If I believed you felt nothing physically for me, I would walk away now,’ she continued, her voice a murmur. ‘I certainly wouldn’t debase myself any further.’

‘How can you be so sure I feel anything for you physically?’

‘Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m totally naive.’

In his effort to scare her away, he’d pressed his groin into her back, letting her feel his excitement through the layers of their clothing.

That particular effort had backfired.

Hannah had turned it round on him.

Well, no more.

Clasping the hand still resting against his cheek, he tugged it away and dropped it. He stepped back, glowering down at her. ‘You think you can spend one night with me and walk away unscathed? Because that isn’t going to happen. Sex isn’t a game, and I’m not a toy that can be played with.’

For the first time a hint of doubt stole over her face. ‘I never meant it like that,’ she said, her voice low. ‘It’s not just that I’m wildly attracted to you, it’s more than that. I can’t explain it, but when I look at you I see a life full of excitement, of travel, of so much more than I could ever hope to experience. All I want is to reach out and touch it, to experience some of it with you.’

‘You think you know me but you don’t. I’m not the man you think. My life is seedy and violent. You should want nothing to do with it.’

For long, long moments he eyeballed her, waiting for her to drop her eyes. But it didn’t happen—her gaze held his, steady and immovable.

‘Prove it.’ She gave a feeble shrug. ‘If you really think you’re so bad for me, then prove it.’

He almost groaned aloud. ‘It’s not a case of proving it. You need to understand—once your virginity’s gone you will never get it back. It’s lost for ever, and who knows what else you might lose with it.’

She swallowed but remained steady. ‘There’s nothing else for me to lose. I’m not after a love affair. Francesco, all I want is one night.’

It was hearing his name—and the meaning she put into it—on her lips that threw him.

It made him want to find a dragon to slay just to protect her. Yet he knew that the only thing Hannah needed protecting from was herself.

He reminded himself that he did not need this aggravation. His mind should be focused on the Mayfair deal—the deal that would be the crowning glory in his empire. Hannah had compromised his concentration enough these past few days.

Maybe if he gave her some of what she wanted his mind could regain its focus without her there, knocking on his thoughts.

‘You want proof of who I really am?’ he said roughly. ‘Then that’s what you shall have. I will give you a sample of my life for one weekend.’

Her eyes sparkled.

‘This weekend,’ he continued. ‘You can share a taste of my life and see for yourself why you should keep the hell away from me. By the end of our time together I guarantee you will never want to see my face again, much less waste your virginity on a man like me.’