Читать книгу Claimed For The Italian's Revenge - Natalie Rivers - Страница 8

CHAPTER ONE

Four years later

‘MARRY you!’ Claudia Hazelton gasped, too startled to mask her appalled reaction to the shocking proposal she’d just received. She set her cup down on her saucer with a clatter. ‘You’re not really asking me to marry you, are you?’

She was suddenly shaking like a leaf and her heart was pounding horribly, but she held her head high and forced herself to look straight across the beautifully laid table at the Ritz Hotel, into the face of the fifty-year-old man who had just proposed to her.

His name was Primo Vasile. He was her stepmother’s cousin and her father’s business partner. But, despite her family’s connection to him, he had always made her skin crawl. There was no way in a million years she would ever consider marrying him.

‘I’m not asking you,’ Vasile said quietly, a nauseatingly smug expression on his smooth Italian face, ‘I’m telling you. Or would you rather see your father face a criminal investigation and then go to prison for embezzlement of the company pension fund—if he even lives that long?’

Claudia stared at him in shock, horrified disbelief leaving her speechless for a moment. Surely Vasile could not really be saying that her father had stolen money from their joint business and that he expected Claudia to marry him, as a way of repaying that debt?

Suddenly, a painful image of her father lying critically ill in hospital flashed through her mind, pushing all other thoughts aside for a moment and making her throat constrict with grief. He was so frail and was already suffering terribly. She couldn’t bear to think of him facing a criminal investigation or—even worse—prison.

But why was Vasile threatening that? She’d never liked him. But she couldn’t believe he was actually trying to blackmail her into marriage.

‘I don’t understand why you are saying these awful things,’ Claudia said. Her golden brown eyes were wide with confusion as she looked at him. ‘Why would you want to hurt my father?’

‘I don’t want to hurt him,’ Vasile said. ‘But, if you don’t accept my proposal, I may be forced to. He took a great deal of money, which needs to be repaid.’

‘I can’t believe my father would do something like that.’ Claudia pushed her hair back from her stark white face with a jerky gesture and turned in appeal to her stepmother, who was sitting with them at the table.

They’d never been close. Francesca was not the type to let motherly responsibilities get in the way of her extravagant and self-indulgent lifestyle. But she must know the truth about the money—and surely even she wouldn’t condone what her cousin was doing.

‘I’m afraid it’s true, darling. Marrying Primo is the only way to get us all out of this terrible mess,’ Francesca said. ‘When you are married, you will get access to your trust fund. We need that money to pay back what your father took from the company pension fund.’

Claudia bit her lip, trying to take in what they’d told her. The family business really must be in terrible trouble for things to have got this bad—bad enough for blackmail.

‘There has to be another way,’ Claudia said. ‘I can help repay the debt.’

‘Foolish girl!’ Vasile scoffed. ‘Apart from your trust fund—how could you ever raise the money needed?’

‘I’ll sell my flat and my car,’ she replied. ‘And maybe I could get a bank loan. I’ll do whatever it takes—work as hard as I can to pay off the debt.’

‘Don’t be so naive!’ The contempt in Vasile’s voice clawed viciously across her nerves. ‘We’re talking about the pension fund here. Even I can’t raise the amount of money needed. Hundreds of workers have paid contributions into that fund for years—and, if the money isn’t replaced, they’ll all lose their pensions.’

‘How long will it be until the money is missed?’ Claudia asked. She felt sick at the thought of all those loyal employees losing the income they were counting on for their retirement. She was sure her father could never have intended that innocent people should suffer—they had to find a way to put things right. ‘What did my father do with the money? Surely we can get at least some of it back.’

‘It’s gone,’ Francesca said. ‘You must understand, darling—this really is the only way. You must marry Primo.’

‘If we are not married by Christmas,’ Vasile said, ‘I’ll be forced to go to the police.’

‘Christmas!’ Claudia gasped. ‘It’s already mid-December. Why does it have to be so sudden? Why would you want to go to the police so quickly—surely you have some loyalty to my father after all this time?’

‘Embezzlement is a serious crime,’ Vasile said. ‘If I’m not careful I’ll be implicated too. I won’t sacrifice myself to save your father.’

‘You mean you’ll have nothing left if my father’s business goes under,’ Claudia said. ‘You’re just trying to save your own skin.’

‘It wouldn’t be necessary if your father hadn’t stolen the money,’ Vasile sneered.

‘I just can’t believe my father could do such a thing,’ Claudia repeated. She lifted her hands to cover her face for a second and let her long hair fall forward over her eyes. She closed them momentarily—still trying to come to terms with the fact that her father might have taken money that wasn’t his.

‘It’s a bitter pill to swallow.’ Vasile’s heavily accented voice jarred intrusively in her ears, dripping with self-satisfaction. ‘Your precious father is not so perfect after all.’

‘I want to see proof. See the figures for myself,’ Claudia said resolutely. It was unbearable that Primo Vasile was gloating over her father’s mistake.

‘No.’ Vasile’s voice was hard. ‘There’s no time for that.’

‘Then I won’t go through with it—not without proof that it’s definitely necessary,’ Claudia said. A wave of desperation rose up through her as she realised she might really have to marry Vasile to save her father from prison.

‘Don’t push your luck,’ Vasile said, but he picked up his briefcase and pulled out a wad of documents. ‘Here’s your evidence—proof that your father ordered the money transfers into various private accounts.’

Claudia took the papers with a sinking heart. There, right in front of her eyes, were the documents to prove that her father had transferred company money into his own accounts. The numbers were huge—and there was a whole pile of transfer orders, each with her father’s characteristic signature at the bottom.

‘You’re asking too much of me,’ Claudia protested.

‘No. Your father took too much,’ Vasile said. ‘And now you must give up the money he put in trust for you—if you want to save him from prison.’

‘I don’t care about the money!’ Claudia brought her hands down to the table with a bang and her eyes snapped back up to Vasile’s hateful face.

It was true that she didn’t care about it. In her mind she had always associated the family wealth with personal loss—first the death of her real mother when she was just five years old and then her grandmother.

She’d never looked forward to her thirtieth birthday, when she was due to receive the money from her trust fund. It seemed so far away that she rarely thought about it. It had been her father’s intention that by then she would have found her own way in the world. She would only receive the money earlier if she married. That was her father’s way of providing for his grandchildren.

‘Lower your voice,’ Francesca hissed. ‘Remember where we are.’

Claudia glared across the table at her stepmother. She looked so poised and confident.

A sudden, irrational jolt of irritation jarred through her. At that moment she hated Francesca’s chic Italian style. Even now, when they were discussing something so important, Francesca still looked as if she had stepped out of the latest edition of Vogue.

‘Only you would bring us here,’ Claudia said crossly, glancing round at the opulent cream and gold room. She knew Francesca felt at home surrounded by the sophisticated splendour of the Ritz Hotel—the clink of silver teaspoons against bone china and the gentle hum of conversation was comforting to her. ‘Only you could blackmail your stepdaughter over afternoon tea at the Ritz!’

She looked down at the white tablecloth, wishing for the millionth time that her father had never married Francesca. But it wasn’t his fault. He had been devastated by the death of Claudia’s real mother and had been easy prey for the gold-digging Italian.

Even at seven years old, Claudia had not been fooled by Francesca. She’d instinctively seen through the Italian woman’s fake charm and two-faced behaviour. But her father had been blinded by grief. Out of desire for companionship, and to provide a mother for his daughter, he had fallen into Francesca’s trap. And with Francesca came her cousin, Primo Vasile, an unscrupulous businessman, keen to use Claudia’s father—and his money—in any way he could.

‘Blackmail?’ Francesca echoed, looking almost genuinely bemused. ‘No, no…it’s nothing like that. It’s just an arrangement that Primo has suggested in the interests of your father’s health.’

‘It’s blackmail,’ Claudia said frostily. ‘Don’t try to pretend it isn’t.’

‘No—’ Francesca protested.

But Vasile lifted a hand to silence her. ‘Claudia understands the situation,’ he said, fixing her with his shrewd black eyes.

She shuddered. The sound of him saying her name and the way that he smiled at her made her stomach clench in revulsion.

‘I will provide all the necessary paperwork,’ Vasile continued. ‘You just need to come to the Caribbean for our wedding and sign the documents that will keep your father from prison. Allow him to end his days peacefully in hospital.’

Claudia stared at Vasile in disgust, hardly able to believe the situation she had found herself in.

‘There is one more thing,’ Vasile added. ‘Given the fact that your father is far too ill to talk, it’s scarcely necessary to say this, but I must be absolutely clear on this point. You are never to discuss our arrangement with your father—or with anyone else. If you do, I will cut my losses by going to the police immediately.’

A flash of anger flared through Claudia at the cold-hearted way Vasile dismissed her father and at this extra barb he’d added to his blackmail—as if it wasn’t hateful enough already.

Then, suddenly, all she could think about was how much her father was suffering. Her anger evaporated and her eyes filled with tears as she pictured him—his face a pallid grey next to the starched white hospital sheets as he drifted in and out of consciousness, his terrible pain and pitiful frailty showing whenever he was awake.

‘It will be all right, darling,’ Francesca said, startling Claudia by covering her hand with her own. ‘There’s no need to get upset.’

‘My father is dying.’ She paused, struggling to speak past the sadness that was closing her throat. ‘How can you say it will be all right?’

‘I meant we can keep him happy and comfortable,’ Francesca said. ‘Protect him from any more worries.’

Claudia pressed her teeth gently into her quivering lip, momentarily overwhelmed by a barrage of conflicting emotions. She’d spent most of her life longing for a loving mother who could take care of her and comfort her when she was upset.

Now, for the first time she could remember, Francesca was trying to offer comfort. But, coming straight after joining forces with a man Claudia despised, with the purpose of blackmailing her into marriage, it was a hollow pretence.

‘You don’t care about him,’ Claudia cried. ‘You’ve never cared about him—you’ve only ever been interested in his money.’

Francesca withdrew her hand stiffly, but she did not respond to Claudia’s impassioned comment.

‘This will cheer you up,’ she said, pulling a wedding dress brochure out of her designer bag. ‘Just for inspiration, of course. After tea let’s pop down to Harrods and see what they have.’

‘I’m not going to Harrods to choose my wedding dress.’ All Claudia wanted to do was get away on her own.

‘Just for inspiration,’ her stepmother repeated. ‘Nothing off-the-peg for you, darling, but what do you think about something like this?’

Claudia looked at the fur trimmed December bride gracing the cover of the brochure.

‘It’s not exactly suitable for the Caribbean, is it?’ She picked up her bag and was on her feet before she fully realised what she was doing. She couldn’t bear to think of flying to the Tropics to present herself as a trophy bride to the despicable and vile Primo Vasile.

But the thought of her father ending his days in prison was absolutely unbearable. She would do whatever it took to spare him pain in his last few months of life.

‘Where are you going?’ Francesca asked. ‘We have plans to make.’

‘You don’t need me to make plans,’ Claudia said as she turned to leave. ‘You just need me to carry them out for you.’

They said that revenge was a dish best served cold. And, as Marco De Luca waited outside the Ritz Hotel for Claudia Hazelton to appear, his heart felt as cold and hard as steel.

He stared straight ahead, oblivious to the hordes of Christmas shoppers thronging the streets in London’s fashionable West End. He was completely disinterested in the Christmas lights that sparkled everywhere because, at any moment, Claudia would leave the hotel.

It was more than four years since he’d seen her, but he could still picture her face perfectly. Porcelain fair skin with a dusting of freckles. Fine bone structure and delicate features, framed by rich coppery hair that tumbled past her shoulders. Those large eyes that gave the appearance of angelic innocence.

But Marco knew Claudia was far from innocent. She had betrayed him and she’d made the unforgivable mistake of conspiring to hurt his sister.

And now, unbelievably, she planned to marry Primo Vasile—the man who had viciously ripped Marco’s family to shreds twelve years earlier.

A knot twisted nastily in his stomach as he thought about Claudia and Vasile together. Their forthcoming marriage was utterly repellent to him—but it proved just how low Claudia was prepared to stoop. The only possible reason she could have for marrying a man like Vasile was to get her hands on her trust fund early.

Marco would make sure that marriage never happened.

A movement from the hotel’s entrance caught his eye.

It was Claudia.

A sudden surge of unexpected emotion powered through him and his heart started to thud. Even though he’d been waiting for her, actually seeing her in the flesh hit him like a punch to the solar plexus.

He jerked into motion, falling into step behind her as she set off along Picadilly. She walked swiftly, weaving her way with single-minded determination through the crowds of Christmas shoppers filling the London street.

She looked every bit the sophisticated city woman, wearing a sleek chocolate-brown suede coat over tailored trousers and high-heeled boots. But in his mind’s eye he suddenly saw her dressed in the faded T-shirt and old jeans she had worn the last day they’d spent together, trekking along the Pembrokeshire Coast Path.

He pictured her lying on the springy grass on the cliff top, the scent of wild thyme mingling with the sea breeze as he’d leant forward to kiss her. It had been an amazing day, for both of them he had thought, until he’d discovered it was all a smokescreen. She’d been deceiving him in the worst possible way—for the worst possible reasons.

‘Claudia.’ His voice caught in his throat and a strange sensation burned through him—a combination of the betrayal he’d felt when he’d discovered what she had done and the memory of the red hot passion they’d once shared. ‘Claudia, is that you?’ he asked, reaching out to lay his hand on her shoulder.

He felt her jump as his hand made contact, as if an electric shock had run through her.

‘Marco.’ His name formed soundlessly on her lips as she turned to face him, an expression of profound shock on her fine features.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. In the thin colourless light of the winter afternoon her skin glowed with almost ethereal paleness, but there was something achingly fragile about her that he didn’t recall. His eyes roamed over her, trying to detect even the smallest changes in her appearance.

There were dark smudges under her eyes and her cheekbones seemed more pronounced than before. But maybe it was simply knowing what he had planned for her that made her seem vulnerable to him.

Despite her elegant London grooming, she looked slightly dishevelled. Her gorgeous copper toned hair was caught up inside her collar, as if she’d thrown her coat on hurriedly, and his fingers longed to slip under its silken weight and ease it free.

Then, as she lifted her gaze to meet his, he found himself looking down into her golden brown eyes.

‘Marco.’ Claudia repeated his name out loud this time, hardly able to believe it as she stared up at his face. Her heart was racing and it was impossible to think straight.

It truly was him—Marco De Luca.

He had filled her thoughts for four long years and now he was really here, transported out of her dreams on to the London pavement beside her—except everything about the flesh and blood man was more vivid than the memory.

‘I thought it was you,’ he said. His voice tingled down her spine, deliciously deep and sexy, setting her quivering inside. ‘I saw you walking.’

Claudia opened her lips and tried to speak again, but all she could think was how badly she’d missed him. He’d hurt her terribly when he’d dumped her four years ago, but he’d been in her thoughts every day since then. And now he was here, completely out of the blue, on what had seemed like the worst day of her life so far.

‘Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ Curiosity glittered in his dark eyes as he looked down at her startled face. ‘Have I caught you at a bad time? You appeared to be hurrying somewhere.’

All of a sudden, a wave of anger rose up and crashed through Claudia’s initial shock at seeing him again. She drew in a deep breath, finding her voice at last.

‘A bad time?’ she demanded incredulously. He had broken her heart when he’d left her, but she’d never discovered the reason why he’d finished their relationship so abruptly. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell her he was leaving. ‘When would be a good time to run into an ex-lover—a man who dumped you without even bothering to tell you it was over?’

‘Well…when you put it like that…’ Marco paused, his wide expressive lips curling into a smile that took her breath away and swept through the ache that had filled her heart since the day he’d disappeared from her life.

‘How would you put it?’ she challenged him. ‘Considering you walked out on me four years ago, without even telling me you were going.’

‘I’d say how wonderful to see you, despite everything,’ Marco said, holding her transfixed with his dark gaze. ‘And what a fantastic opportunity to put things right between us.’

Claudia drew in a breath and tried to speak. She wanted to say that she wasn’t naive enough to fall for his charming ways a second time. But she was caught by the power of his gaze. A sizzling, sensual energy was flowing between them, just as it always had. She felt it in every cell of her body. Every inch of her skin longed to be close to him. It was impossible to ignore.

‘Then I’d say you’re four years too late.’

Her voice sounded steady, but her body and mind were a churning mass of conflicting feelings. She took a hasty step away from him—as if putting a little distance between them would help her get a grip.

Making a sudden sideways move on the busy street was foolhardy and she felt someone crash heavily into her back almost immediately.

‘Sorry!’ A stocky man in a dark overcoat grunted as he put out his hands to steady himself.

‘No…sorry…my fault,’ Claudia gasped, trying to catch her breath. Then Marco’s arms closed around her as he pulled her out of the flow of pedestrians into a shop doorway.

She stared up at him, thinking that he was still the most amazingly good-looking man she’d ever seen. From the moment they’d met, her attraction to him outstripped anything she’d ever experienced before.

When he’d turned his fathomless espresso coloured eyes on to her, it was as if she were the only woman in the world. She’d felt beautiful and special.

But she’d been a fool to let herself think that—things between them hadn’t been what they’d seemed. He wasn’t her soul mate. In fact, he’d shown just how little he cared for her when he’d discarded her so heartlessly.

‘You seem out of place here, in all this hustle and bustle,’ he said, tugging her closer to him as a group of people pressed past them into the London store they were sheltering beside. ‘I’d rather be with you somewhere quieter—more private,’ he added, tightening his hold on her.

Claudia looked at him, her heart beating erratically. He was holding her so close that she couldn’t think clearly.

Secure in the powerful circle of his arms, her senses were going into overload. She could feel the warm strength of him, even through her winter coat, and her legs were brushing against his, sending little darts of awareness shooting through her.

The chemistry between them had always been incredible, but now she knew that chemistry was all it had ever been. If she’d known their affair had been meaningless to him—a casual fling that he could easily cast aside—she would never have got so deeply involved. She’d never have told him her secrets.

And she would never have fallen in love with him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Marco said. ‘I’ve unsettled you by turning up like this.’

He moved to the side, breaking the contact between them to let another group of Christmas shoppers past. When he let go of her it felt like a rejection.

‘It’s not turning up unexpectedly that you should be apologising for,’ Claudia said, the sting of losing physical contact with him making her voice sharper than she’d intended. ‘What about the way you left me in the middle of the night, without bothering to tell me why? You didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face that it was over between us!’

‘I do owe you an explanation,’ Marco said. ‘Let’s go somewhere and talk.’ His dark gaze slid down her in a way that made her think he wanted to do more than talk.

For a split second Claudia wondered what had made him call out her name when he’d spotted her in the street. He could easily have watched her walk away and she would have been none the wiser that they had passed by so close to each other. But now, the way his eyes were burning right through her clothes gave her an answer that made the pieces of her broken heart weep.

It was still just about sex.

And, shockingly, the look in his eyes told her that he wanted to pick up where they’d left off.

‘It’s too late for that,’ she replied stonily, folding her arms resolutely across her chest.

Then suddenly the horrible realisation that she’d spoken the truth in more ways than one slammed into her like a lead weight. It was only a matter of days until she would have to marry Primo Vasile.

She slumped back against the shop window, hardly aware of the constant stream of shoppers brushing past her. Even if she was foolish enough to want to hear Marco’s explanation, it made no difference what he had to say for himself. Because, even if her wildest dreams had come true and Marco had genuinely been in love with her, she could never be with him again.

Because she was committed to Vasile now. And if she didn’t go through with her wedding to him, he would report her father’s crime to the police.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Marco said, stepping close so that his broad shoulders shielded her from the crowd of people that had built up in the bottleneck of the shop doorway. Then he slipped his arm around her waist to guide her out into the street.

A shiver ran through her as he pulled her tight to his body and she drew in a shaky breath. For a moment the sheer pleasure of being held close to him took over, mercifully blotting everything else out.

But she wasn’t in love with him any more. She couldn’t be. No sensible, self-respecting woman would love a man after he’d dumped her so decisively. But the intervening time—and common sense—had done nothing to dull her physical awareness of him.

‘Let me go.’ She stopped suddenly, slipping out of his grip before he could react. Then she turned to look him straight in the eye. ‘I don’t want to hear what you have to say—it won’t change anything.’

That was the simple truth—and the sooner she faced up to it the better. Whatever he said wouldn’t change the fact that he had callously discarded her four years ago. And it wouldn’t change the fact that she had to marry Primo Vasile.

‘Then let’s not talk about the past,’ Marco said.

He stared down at Claudia’s deceptively innocent face.

He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t want to discuss the night he’d left her in Wales—her reluctance to talk about it was further proof of her guilt. Another nail in her coffin.

It was obvious that he’d discovered she was in league with Primo Vasile. That she’d callously set Bianca up, then purposefully taken Marco out of the country to ensure his sister was alone and vulnerable.

His blood ran cold as he remembered the phone call he’d received from Ricardo that night in Wales. It had been a monumental stroke of luck that Marco’s friend had come across Vasile and Bianca before something truly awful had happened.

‘Let’s not talk at all,’ Claudia said, turning to walk away from him.

‘Wait.’

A bolt of fury shot through him. He wasn’t finished with her yet—how dared she walk away from him? He reached out and caught her arm, spinning her round so that they were face to face once more. He stared down at her and a strange feeling hit him in the chest.

Suddenly, it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

He remembered only too well the afternoon that Bianca had introduced them. The minute he’d laid eyes on her at that high-society Turin wedding, he’d felt his blood quicken with desire. Dressed simply, with her long hair falling in natural waves around her shoulders and her pale English skin glowing in the Piedmont sunshine, she was a rare beauty. So refreshingly different from the chic Italian women he knew.

He had taken her slim hand in his and gazed down into her incredible eyes, experiencing an exquisite rush of pleasure as he’d anticipated getting to know her.

Then Bianca had told him her name.

Claudia Hazelton.

Like an unexpected icy wind scouring his skin, he had known at once who she was. Had known that eight years earlier her family had destroyed his.

But, as he’d started to talk to her, he’d been impressed by her openness and simple charm. He’d resolved not to judge her, based on a family background she’d had no control over, and he’d suppressed his natural suspicions of her, taking the time to get to know her.

It hadn’t been long until they had fallen into bed, where he’d discovered to his great pleasure that she was a virgin. As the days had gone by, Marco had increasingly let down his guard, distracted by the extraordinary delights of spending time with her—making love and simply being together.

It was his sister who had paid the price.

Looking at Claudia now, standing on the busy London street, he knew that he’d never be fooled by her beauty or her charm again.

Her delicate face shone like an angel’s in the dark and her gorgeous copper hair, still caught inside the collar of her brown suede coat, was picking up rich multicoloured reflections from the Christmas lights.

She looked like an angel—but she was poison.

And she would pay for what she had done.

He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, sensing a ripple of sensual awareness pass through her. That was the only thing between them that had been true—there was no way she could have faked her physical response to him.

Marco was going to taste the delights of her body one last time. But this time it would be on his terms. He knew now exactly what kind of woman she was and what she was capable of. And he would enjoy taking his revenge on her.

He let his fingers trail down the side of her neck, then slipped his hand underneath her hair. It was cool and heavy against the back of his hand, but her skin was hot under his palm. He felt her start trembling and a surge of potent desire powered through his body.

‘I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you,’ he murmured, tipping his head to one side and leaning slightly closer.

Claudia stared up at him, almost mesmerised by the intensity of the expression on his face. He’d been gazing down at her for the longest moment and now she knew he was going to kiss her. She was sure of it.

The sultry tone of his voice had set her senses buzzing and her nerve-endings were already zinging where his hand touched her neck. But she knew she could not—must not—let him kiss her.

Then suddenly she felt him gently tugging her long hair, pushing the back of his hand against it and slowly pulling it free from where it was caught inside her coat.

It wasn’t what she’d been expecting, yet somehow it felt intensely erotic. It was almost as if he were undressing her, teasing her body slowly out of a close-fitting, sexy garment. As the last strands of hair slipped free of her collar an uncontrollable shudder rippled through her. She couldn’t mask her response. He’d seen it and felt it. All she could do was continue to gaze at him.

The moment stretched on but she couldn’t break eye contact.

‘The chemistry between us is still as hot as ever.’ Marco spoke quietly, but his voice tingled across her body like a sensual caress.

Claudia could see the desire burning in his eyes and she felt her stomach tighten with the thrill of sexual anticipation.

Then, out of nowhere, a bubble of panic started to rise within her.

Suddenly nothing felt real. She couldn’t believe that she was really standing there with Marco. She’d thought about him so many times over the last four years, desperately wishing things could have been different—wishing she could be with him.

But he had dumped her. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces and it had felt as if her life was over when he’d left. She’d be crazy to get involved with him again.

Besides, she didn’t have only herself to think about now. Now there was her marriage to Primo Vasile. That didn’t seem real either—it was more like a terrible nightmare—but she knew she had to go through with it. She couldn’t do anything that might make Vasile take the incriminating information he had about her father to the police.

She would never forgive herself if her father was forced to face the humiliation of a criminal investigation and imprisonment. Not if there was anything—anything at all—that she could have done to prevent it.

‘You’re wrong. There’s nothing between us,’ Claudia said, pulling back, out of Marco’s hold. ‘I never want to see you again.’

Without giving him a chance to reply, she turned and fled.

Marco watched impassively as she ran away from him, quickly disappearing into the crowds of Christmas shoppers.

A slow smile spread across his cold face. That was quite a dramatic departure—he hadn’t expected to have her running scared quite so soon. But it was of no matter.

She could run, but she couldn’t hide from him.