Captive in His Castle (6 page)

‘It isn’t necessary for you to pay for them. The clothes belong to me.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Well, either I’m going to look pretty silly, wearing clothes designed for a six-foot man, or you’re a cross-dresser.’

For a few seconds Drago could think of nothing to say in response to her startling statement, but then his lips twitched and he threw back his head and laughed. ‘I promise you I don’t have a penchant for dressing up in women’s clothes and stiletto heels.’

He watched Jess’s mouth curve into a smile and realised she had been teasing him. It was a novelty. He was not used to women with a sense of humour; most of the women he knew took themselves far too seriously. It felt strange to laugh, he mused. Even before Angelo’s accident there had rarely seemed anything to laugh about recently. The responsibility of running a business empire and taking care of his family weighed heavily on him. Although he made time to play squash and work out in his private gym, and he enjoyed an active sex life with numerous mistresses, his life was dictated by work and duty and he could not remember the last time anyone had made him smile.

‘The clothes are from the Cassa di Cassari collection,’ he explained. ‘Clothing is a new venture that the company is expanding into, and we have employed the top Italian fashion designer Torre Umberto. The new line won’t be available in the shops until next month, but Torre has sent some samples over for you to wear.’

His phone rang, breaking the curious connection he had briefly felt with Jess. He headed a global business empire which demanded his constant attention. He was distracted enough, worrying about his cousin, and he definitely did not have time to be distracted by a sassy
redhead whose sweet smile made his guts ache, Drago reminded himself.

‘When you’re ready, the maid will show you the way to the dining room,’ he told her abruptly before he headed out of the door.

They had been at the hospital for hours, but still Angelo showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Jess stood up from her chair next to the bed, needing to stretch her legs. The small room felt claustrophobic, and although the blind at the window was pulled down the bright sunshine beating against the glass increased the stifling atmosphere.

As she walked over to the water dispenser and filled a plastic cup she was aware of two pairs of eyes following her. Angelo’s mother was no friendlier today than she had been last night and had not spoken a word to her. The poor woman was devastated, Jess reminded herself. But she also knew that the vibes of distrust from Drago’s aunt were due to her belief that Jess had conned her son out of his inheritance fund. When Angelo woke up he was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, she thought heavily.

Dorotea turned her attention back to her son, but Jess was conscious that Drago’s gaze was still focused on her, and she self-consciously ran a hand over the cream jersey-silk skirt that she had discovered, along with a selection of other outfits, in the wardrobe of her room at the Palazzo d’Inverno.

The last time she had worn a skirt had been years ago, on one of the rare occasions when she had attended school, she thought wryly. She lived in jeans or work overalls, and she felt overdressed in the skirt and the delicate white blouse she had teamed with it. The tan
leather belt around her waist matched the three-inch stiletto-heeled shoes. The elegant outfit had called for her to try to tame her thick hair, and she had swept it up into a loose knot on top of her head.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror before she had left her bedroom, she had been stunned by the transformation. She had always thought of her body as shapeless and too thin, but the beautifully designed skirt suited her slim figure, and the blouse was cleverly cut so that her small bust looked fuller. For the first time in years—since she was seventeen, in fact, and had worn a new dress to go out to dinner with her boss, Sebastian Loxley—she felt like an attractive woman. The glitter of sexual awareness in Drago’s eyes when she had walked into the dining room at the
palazzo
had sent a thrill of feminine pride through her. He had not commented on her appearance, but she had been aware of him glancing at her several times as they had eaten breakfast—just as she was aware of him watching her now.

‘I need some air,’ he announced abruptly. The metal feet of his chair scraped loudly on the floor as he stood up. His eyes met Jess’s, but his expression was unreadable. ‘We’ll go and get a coffee. You need a break,’ he insisted when she opened her mouth to argue. ‘You have talked to Angelo and sung to him—’ he glanced briefly at the guitar standing by the bed ‘—almost constantly for four hours.’

‘I came to try to help,’ she replied huskily, feeling herself blush. She had sung a couple of pop ballads that Angelo had taught her to play on the guitar while Drago had gone to make a phone call, and she felt embarrassed that he must have been just outside the door and had heard her.

‘Hopefully he will regain consciousness soon, and if
he does it will be no small thanks to you,’ Drago said roughly.

He could not help but be impressed by Jess’s efforts to rouse his cousin. She had barely moved from his bedside since they had arrived at the hospital that morning, and she had talked to him until her throat sounded dry. The question of whether they were lovers returned to taunt him. She had denied it, had said that they were simply friends, but she was so goddamned beautiful and it was easy to believe she had seduced shy, inexperienced Angelo with her sex-kitten sensuality and persuaded him to give her a fortune.

Drago’s jaw clenched. She had taken his breath away when she had joined him for breakfast at the
palazzo
that morning, dressed in clothes that had drawn his gaze to her slender but shapely figure. The scruffy tomboy had turned into an elegant woman, but beneath her new sophistication he recognised her inherently sensual nature, and his appetite for food had deserted him as he’d fantasised about having hot, hard sex with her on the dining table.

Frowning at the inappropriateness of his thoughts when his cousin was in a critical condition, Drago was unaware of how forbidding he looked as he escorted Jess to the hospital cafeteria. He ordered two coffees and carried them over to the empty table she had found.

She seemed distracted as she added three spoons of sugar to her coffee, prompting him to ask, ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I wish my phone wasn’t at the bottom of the canal,’ she said ruefully. ‘I’d like to call Mike, my foreman, to make sure the job we’ve been working on will be finished on time. Clients hate delays, and it’s important that the company maintains a good reputation.’ Jess pushed
a stray tendril of hair back from her face. ‘Do the doctors have any idea of when Angelo might regain consciousness? I want to stay if it is deemed that hearing my voice might help rouse him, but I have a responsibility to my team of decorators in London. If I don’t finalise our next contract they won’t have any work.’

Drago sipped his unsweetened black coffee, relishing the hit of caffeine, and gave her a speculative look. ‘I understand that your decorating business was facing bankruptcy until a few months ago?’

‘How do you know that?’ Her startled expression turned to anger. ‘I suppose the investigator you hired to spy on me told you?’

He did not deny it. ‘I know you paid twenty thousand pounds into the company account to clear its debts and overdraft. I can’t help thinking how remarkably convenient it was that you suddenly acquired a large sum of money just in time to save the business from financial meltdown.’

As his meaning became clear, Jess felt sick. ‘If you think I got the money from Angelo, you’re wrong.’

‘So where
did
it come from? And perhaps you can also explain how you live in a luxury apartment with a rental value far higher than you could afford on a decorator’s wage.’

Jess was stunned at how much he knew about her personal life, and felt violated by the intrusion.

‘I don’t have to explain anything to you,’ she said angrily. ‘But as a matter of fact the money I used to bail out T&J Decorators was left to me.’

Drago looked disbelieving. ‘You’re saying you received an inheritance? Who from? You told me your alcoholic father spent all his money on drink.’

‘Yeah,
he
certainly never gave me anything—not
even affection,’ Jess said bitterly. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like to be the only child in the class not to be dressed in clean clothes? Or the only one not to go on a school trip because your dad was too drunk to sign the permission form?’ She clamped her lips together, startled by her outburst. Her childhood was something she
never
spoke about. ‘Of course you don’t know. You were born into a wealthy, loving family.’

She swallowed. ‘I didn’t know what it felt like to be part of a family until I was seventeen, when I went to stay with a wonderful couple who had experience of helping troubled teenagers. Ted and Margaret changed my life in so many ways. Sadly they are both dead now, and six months ago I learned that I was a beneficiary in Margaret’s will.’

The raw emotion in Jess’s voice tugged on Drago’s insides. He was shocked by her revelations about her childhood and felt uncomfortable that his questioning of her had forced her to talk about a subject she clearly found painful. She could be making up a sob story to gain his sympathy, his mind pointed out. But the haunted expression in her eyes was too real to be an act.

‘As for how I afford to live in an expensive property,’ she continued, ‘I have an arrangement with a property developer who allows me to live in properties he owns rent-free. In return I carry out renovation work and decorate them to a high standard. As soon as the work is finished on the flat I’m currently living in I’ll move out, and the developer will lease it to paying tenants.’

Jess glared at Drago. ‘You are wrong about me,’ she said fiercely. ‘And when Angelo wakes up and tells you where his money is I’ll expect an apology from you.’

His coldly arrogant expression did not soften. ‘I’m not wrong about your criminal record. It is an undeniable
fact that you were convicted of fraud, and in light of that I think my suspicion that you know what has happened to my cousin’s inheritance is understandable.’

‘I was seventeen, for God’s sake, and very naïve.’ Jess bit her lip. ‘I was set up and I didn’t understand that I was committing a crime.’

‘Set up by whom?’

The rank disbelief in Drago’s tone made Jess’s heart sink. She had no chance of convincing him of her innocence when she had been found guilty by a jury, she acknowledged bleakly. The injustice of what had happened still burned inside her. But at the same time as the court case seven years ago, she had had to make a monumental decision that had left her feeling numb and strangely distanced from other events in her life.

‘Explain what you mean about being set up,’ Drago demanded.

‘What’s the point?’ She tore her eyes from his hard-boned face, hating the way her body responded to him. ‘You have already judged me. The only person who can exonerate me is Angelo.’

The strident ring of his phone made them both jump. Drago frowned when he saw the hospital consultant’s number flash on the caller display, and he quickly answered. After a terse conversation in Italian he ended the call and stared across the table at Jess.

‘Angelo has just regained consciousness—and he has asked for you.’

T
HEY 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.