The Italian's Ruthless Marriage Command (HQR Presents) Read online

  ‘Of course.’

  Taylor caught Dante’s smile, the faint musing gleam apparent, and knew he’d accurately guessed her thoughts.

  Later, when Taylor closed the book after she finished reading Ben’s bedtime story, she listened to the simple prayer Casey had taught him, then she bent low and kissed his cheek.

  ‘Do you think Mummy and Daddy know you and Zio are looking after me?’ he queried wistfully, and she felt an arrow of pain pierce her heart.

  ‘I’m sure they do.’

  ‘If they’re looking down from heaven, will they see I’m in Dante’s house?’

  She blinked rapidly to still the warm moisture threatening to well in her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she managed simply and glimpsed his sweet smile as his eyelids began to droop.

  ‘I love you, Taylor.’

  It took effort to keep her voice even. ‘Love you right back,’ she assured gently.

  She adjusted the dimmer switch to a bare glow, waited to see if he stirred, then when he didn’t she quietly left the room and closed the door.

  Childish simplicity cut straight to her emotional heart and wrought images of a past when life had seemed normal…until the night a fateful assault had put fear in her heart and had torn her emotions to shreds.

  Even now, two years down the track, events of that night were startlingly vivid…and she shivered, wrapping her arms about her body in an attempt to still the images flooding back to haunt her. She could still feel the man’s hard fingers pinching her flesh and the fear that had engulfed her body. She wondered now whether she would ever be able to bear the touch of any man again and her mind instantly drifted to Dante. The few times he had touched her had sent a very different sensation through her body, and one she didn’t want to analyse in too much detail.

  Work was a panacea. One of the very few distractions that helped set her mind back on an even keel, and she entered her home office, opened her current manuscript file, reread a few pages to fit herself back in the scene, then she tuned out everything except the characters and the direction in which she wanted to take them.

  Time had little meaning as the scene developed, engaging her total focus, and she kept up an enviable momentum as the words flowed onto the screen.

  The only distraction was Ben’s cough via the electronic monitor, the faint rustle of bedclothes as he turned in his sleep…followed by silence.

  Taylor continued working, lost in the fictional world of her creation, aware on a subliminal level of the lateness of the hour from the weary drag of her shoulders and the dryness of her eyes.

  Time to pack it in for the night…just as soon as she concluded the current chapter, she promised silently.

  With effort she stretched her spine, rolled her shoulders and flexed her fingers, aware it would help if she could also flex her brain power.

  Just…finish the page, then close down.

  She was almost there when a faint noise broke her concentration, and she automatically glanced up, unsure if the sound emitted through the monitor—or elsewhere in the house.

  Then she saw the tall male figure outlined in the doorway…and she cried out in shocked surprise, his name on her lips a barely audible gasp as he stepped into the room.

  Dante took in her dilated eyes, the pale features that had, in that momentary instant, expressed real fear, and for a brief second his own eyes hardened, then became deliberately bland.

  He’d managed a few hours’ sleep during the flight. Enough to attune his body clock back to Australian time, enhanced by a shower and change of clothes on board.

  His intention to move quietly into his own quarters had been hindered by examination of the sensor alarm…and the discovery that Taylor’s office was occupied.

  The possibility she might be working at this late hour seemed remote.

  ‘I knocked,’ Dante offered quietly. ‘Presumably you didn’t register the sound.’

  She had…she just hadn’t correlated it to him.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Oh, hell, she sounded accusatory, almost as if she had a right to question his movements.

  This was his home, and he didn’t need to answer to her for anything.

  ‘I—didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow,’ she said in explanation, watching warily as he crossed the room and slid a hip onto the edge of her desk.

  ‘It is tomorrow.’

  This close he was too much, too male…and she fought against the need to push back her chair, proffer a hurried ‘goodnight’ and escape.

  It was late, and his presence seemed to reduce the spacious room to a confined space.

  Reflex action caused her to check her watch…close her eyes at the time displayed, then she opened them again, pressed the save key and shut the computer down.

  It was late. No wonder she’d felt akin to an ant attempting to roll a stone uphill.

  Taylor rose to her feet…not a good move, as it brought her too close to Dante, and she fixed her attention on a framed print on the wall to the right of his left ear.

  ‘I should go to bed.’

  His expression remained unchanged, and she took a backward step as he captured her chin between thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Who was he?’

  She felt her eyes widen at the silky query, and her stomach fluttered as if a host of butterflies beat their wings in protest. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘The man who hurt you.’

  Dear God…no, a silent voice screamed inside her head as dark images crowded her mind, sharpening into vivid focus.

  She tried to turn her head aside, and failed miserably. ‘Please—don’t do this.’ Her need to flee was paramount, and her eyes unwittingly beseeched he release her.

  Without success, and she stood captured by the mesmerising quality apparent in his dark gaze.

  Instead, he smoothed a gentle thumb over her lower lip and applied light pressure to its trembling centre. ‘You have nothing to fear from me, Taylor.’

  No? He had to be joking!

  How could she fear this man’s touch…yet inwardly crave it with an aching intensity? To fall prey to such irrational emotions was insane.

  What, in the name of several patron saints, had rendered her so acutely vulnerable?

  The late hour? Extreme tiredness…exhaustion?

  Or was the love scene she’d just written responsible for stirring impossible yearnings?

  Whatever, she dismissed wearily. The man, her reaction…it was surreal.

  One thing was sure. She couldn’t stay.

  ‘Please—’

  Dante lowered his head and brushed his lips to her own, sensed them part in surprise, captured her faint gasp and caught the soft fullness of her lower lip between his teeth, nipped a little, then soothed it with the edge of his tongue before lifting his head.

  She looked slightly stunned and vaguely bereft, and his eyes darkened at her visible effort to retain a sense of composure.

  The temptation to pull her close and thoroughly kiss her was uppermost. There was a need to recapture the sweetness of her mouth, explore and taste with persuasive skill in an attempt to awaken her unbidden reaction.

  The fact he could…easily, would be taking an unfair advantage.

  Instead, he cupped her face, smoothed a light thumb over her trembling mouth, then released her.

  ‘Go to bed,’ he bade quietly. ‘And get some sleep.’

  Taylor was incapable of moving. Her lips parted, but no words emerged, then a strangled sound escaped from her throat, and she brushed past him.

  It was only when she reached the safety of her own suite that her breathing began to slow, and she sank into a comfortable chair and buried her face in her hands.

  Reaction set in, shattering the fragile tenure of her control, and the tears trickled down her cheeks until her emotions ran dry.

  It was a long time before she rose wearily to her feet, discarded her clothes and stood beneath the shower in an attempt to relax the tenseness of body and mind before, dry, she pull
ed on cotton sleep trousers, added a sleep T-shirt and crawled beneath the bedcovers.

  The next morning she could still feel the after-effects of Dante’s kiss and the journey to Ben’s kindergarten was made in somewhat of a daze. Determined to shake the feeling and emotions, Taylor was intent on putting in a few hours’ work, and she’d barely opened the laptop when the insistent peal of her mobile phone sounded loud in the room.

  She retrieved it from her bag, checked caller ID and took the call. ‘Sheyna. How are you?’

  ‘More to the point, how are you?’ the lilting voice demanded.

  Two young girls who’d met at kindergarten, clicked and formed a friendship which saw them through school, the awkward teens and into adulthood. Polar opposites…Taylor, the quiet, studious one, while Sheyna’s flamboyant exterior hid a caring heart.

  ‘It’s been a busy week.’ A slight understatement, if ever there was one.

  ‘I get that. Meet me for coffee and fill me in.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say she couldn’t make it, only to renege. ‘OK. Name the place and I’ll be there in half an hour.’

  Ten minutes later she’d changed into jeans, exchanged a T-shirt for a tailored shirt, pulled on boots, then twisted her hair into a knot and fastened it with a large tortoiseshell clasp and added lipstick. Then she ran lightly downstairs and out of the house to meet her oldest friend.

  Sheyna had nominated a café at Darling Harbour, and they arrived almost simultaneously, hugged, chose a table and ordered coffee from a hovering waitress.

  ‘How are you?’ Sheyna began. ‘Really, without the polite platitudes.’

  ‘OK. Getting there,’ Taylor admitted. ‘It’ll take a while, I guess.’

  Sheyna’s eyes softened. ‘Yes, it will. And Ben?’

  ‘We’re maintaining his usual routine, and have set up counselling. He has a puppy and a kitten.’

  Sheyna lifted a hand, palm outwards. ‘Back up a bit. We?’

  ‘Dante, Leon’s brother. We’re sharing custody of Ben in a house Dante owns at Watson’s Bay.’

  Simple was never going to do it, and Sheyna didn’t disappoint.

  ‘I get the sharing custody bit…but sharing a house? Dante?’ Eyebrows rose and eyes rolled in expressive appreciation. ‘So what goes?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Darling,’ Sheyna said with exaggerated patience. ‘Dante d’Alessandri? Please.’

  ‘It’s a large house,’ Taylor explained. ‘He has one wing, Ben and I another. Besides, Dante travels a lot. He’s away more often than he’s home.’

  ‘It had to be his idea you share the house.’ Sheyna’s eyes narrowed. ‘Something you wouldn’t have agreed to easily, but conceded to for Ben’s sake. So what’s Dante’s motive?’

  Straight to the point, no variations, just punch it out.

  ‘Does he have to have one?’ Taylor queried. ‘Other than ensuring Ben settles into a stable, caring environment?’

  ‘The man’s known to be a brilliant strategist. He’ll have a plan, and,’ Sheyna added, ‘you’ll form part of it.’

  The waitress delivered their coffee, and Taylor took a sugar tube, broke it and stirred in the brown crystals. ‘Other than as a combination aunt-mother figure to Ben?’ She shook her head. ‘You’re on another planet.’

  Sheyna spread her hands. ‘We’ll see. And if I’m wrong, I’ll—’

  ‘Eat your hat?’

  ‘Make a five-hundred-dollar donation to your charity of choice.’

  ‘Done.’ Taylor sipped her coffee, then replaced the cup. ‘Your turn to play catch-up. Is Rafe still in favour?’ Sheyna changed the men in her life with amazing regularity.

  ‘Occasionally. When he conforms.’

  Taylor couldn’t help but smile. ‘He’s Spanish,’ she said with a light shrug. ‘You can’t expect him to conform.’

  ‘I tell him to get lost, but he keeps coming back.’

  ‘Interesting.’

  ‘Don’t start,’ Sheyna groaned. ‘My mother likes him.’

  ‘Well, then.’

  ‘She thinks I’ve met my match.’

  Taylor’s smile widened. ‘And have you?’

  ‘He’s too—’ Sheyna hesitated, when she never hesitated ‘—much,’ she allowed at last.

  ‘Yet you’re still seeing him?’

  ‘Yes. Damn him.’

  It was difficult to hold back a broad grin. ‘I’m inclined to agree with your mother.’

  ‘Let’s finish our coffee and walk, shall we?’

  They did, choosing to explore shops and displays until it was time for Taylor to leave to collect Ben.

  ‘Keep in touch,’ Sheyna bade with a friendly hug. ‘Even if it’s just a text message or email. OK?’

  ‘Same goes.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS almost a week later, not long after Ben had settled to sleep for the night, that Dante chose to drop a verbal bombshell.

  They were in the kitchen as Taylor poured freshly made coffee into two mugs, given they each intended to retreat in seclusion and work for a few hours.

  ‘My mother has suggested Ben spend a vacation in Tuscany.’

  Taylor’s body stilled as she absorbed his words. Tuscany…he intended to take Ben to Italy?

  Her mind spun at the mere thought of Ben being in a strange place with people he barely knew.

  ‘It’s much too soon to consider an overseas trip,’ she protested. ‘Ben isn’t familiar with your mother. He doesn’t speak the language, and he’s happily settled here.’ She tucked a stray lock of hair behind an ear. ‘Wouldn’t it be more sensible for her to visit Sydney?’

  ‘My mother suffers from a fear of flying,’ Dante reminded. ‘She required medical sedation in order to travel to Leon’s funeral. If you recall, I accompanied her on both flights.’

  She’d forgotten, and had to admit it provided a different perspective. ‘Doesn’t your mother live in a city apartment? Ben is used to open spaces, both here—’ she gestured towards the outside grounds ‘—and in playgrounds and parks.’

  ‘Florence has its share of both,’ he offered drily. ‘It’s my intention to spend most of our time at my vineyard.’

  He owned a vineyard?

  ‘Among the Tuscan hills, south of the city at Montepulciano,’ Dante elaborated.

  She had an instant vision of uniform rows of vines, green against the earth, tall lines of cypress trees bordering the property boundaries, gardens, and a spacious villa with a cream and terracotta-tiled roof. A dog or three, a cat or two, and room to explore. Ben would be in his element.

  ‘Ben should have the opportunity to bond with his grandmother,’ Dante pursued. ‘And vice versa, don’t you agree?’ He didn’t give her time to comment. ‘He’s heir to the d’Alessandri corporation, which has its origins in Italy, and it’s important he be made aware of his heritage.’

  Taylor viewed him with growing consternation. ‘He’s only three.’

  ‘Almost four,’ he corrected. ‘At a similar age my father took me in to his office and introduced me to staff.’

  She couldn’t keep a degree of scepticism from her voice. ‘Were you ever permitted to be a child?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’

  ‘Unless you have a valid objection, I’d like to leave within the next few days. I assume you have a passport?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Naturally you’ll join us.’

  ‘You have to be joking.’

  ‘There’s no question I’d consider travelling without you.’ He began pre-empting every argument she could present, including the pressure of meeting a deadline. ‘Bring your laptop and any reference material you’ll need.’

  She had nowhere to go…even her passport was current.

  ‘Do you always ride roughshod over everyone?’ It was difficult to minimise her acerbic tone as she glared at him.

  One eyebrow lifted a little. ‘Perhaps I enjoy our verbal sparri
ng?’

  Taylor raised a matching eyebrow. ‘Because every other woman in your life falls over backwards to agree with you?’

  ‘It makes for a pleasant change.’

  ‘In that case…hooray for me.’

  Dante speared her with a faintly mocking gaze. ‘You do realise some man is going to take that fine spirit of yours and tame it.’

  His words took hold of her emotions and scattered them every which way but loose. ‘No chance.’

  So saying, she took her coffee to her home office, and worked until late.

  Dante relayed their travel plans to Ben over breakfast next morning, and Taylor could only admire his skill in the telling, for in a few simple sentences he turned the visit into an adventure. Added to which he gave a firm promise that Anna and Claude would take good care of Sooty and Rosie while they were away.

  The clincher, Taylor conceded, was the prospect of flying in Dante’s private luxury Gulfstream jet. The bonus being they were due to leave soon.

  There were, however, details…such as the proposed length of the visit, a check of climate conditions, and whether there would be any social occasions.

  Questions which Dante dismissed with a casual…‘Three, maybe four weeks. Similar temperatures. Pack light. Whatever you forget can be bought in Florence.’

  She merely rolled her eyes at him. ‘You might have a wardrobe in various residences around the world. I don’t.’

  Ben’s excitement prevailed that day and the next as Taylor sorted his clothes, her own, shopped for a few essentials, then packed Ben’s things in one case, and her own in another.

  There was a bag with books, colouring pencils, a board game and a few DVDs to keep Ben entertained during the flight.

  As it was, she needn’t have bothered, for Ben was entranced from the moment they boarded. Dante introduced him to the pilot, explained a few gauges on the instrument panel before leading him into the main cabin, ready for take-off.

  It was a long flight, although by observing Australian time, they were only in the air a few hours before the attendant served dinner, and it wasn’t long afterwards that excitement and tiredness took their toll. The comfortable chair reclined into a bed, and Taylor carefully removed Ben’s trainers, placed a pillow beneath his head, covered him with a blanket and dimmed the overhead light.