Mistress By Blackmail: International Billionaires I: The Italians (7 page)

The smile was cold and icy.

The woman dropped her hand and with a flip of her hair, walked away.

Silver flashed as he glanced over and met Darcy’s gaze. His frozen smile slipped from his face, replaced by a dark frown.

Whipping her head around, she laughed at one of the men’s jokes. She made sure her eyes glowed, made sure her grin encompassed everyone surrounding her. If she couldn’t manage to bring Marcus La Rocca to his knees before her, she would darn well get every other man at this party to do the deed. At least this would be something to crow about with the Great Man. There was no way she’d give him the idea she cared one iota about what he was doing or who he allowed to touch him.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” His words silenced the chatter. “I’m afraid I must take away your entertainment.”

Her temper simmered. She wasn’t mere entertainment. She was the life of the party. “I’m enjoying myself.”

“I can see that.” His voice was mild, but his eyes crackled with sharp lightning. “However, something has come up and we must go.”

She gave him a chilly smile. “You go. I’ll stay.”

“Impossible.” He returned her smile with an icy one of his own. Was it her imagination or did every one of her ardent admirers take a step back? “I couldn’t leave you here alone.”

“Really?” She arched a brow in disbelief. “Yet this is exactly what you did when we got here, Marcus.”

His big body stiffened. She realized it was the first time she’d ever said his first name. Was this the reason for the sudden electricity sparking between them? But no. One glimpse into his eyes and she knew it was something else entirely. Why the hell would she think he’d be sentimental about something so little as his name tripping off her tongue?

Instead, it was clear; he was incensed at her rebellion.

She was baiting quite a formidable foe. Still, he deserved it. He’d belittled her and deserted her. Now he thought he could claim her like some baggage yet again? Unwanted for a time, but now claimed as his?

“Darcy,” he murmured, his tone dripping with displeasure. “You are a constant challenge.”

Her faithful fans faded from her side like smoke.

“Mmm.” He surveyed the area. “It appears your party is over.”

She found her arm held in an inflexible grip. “Hands off, bloke.”

“Not for the next month.”

His long legs started moving and it was all she could do to keep up with his pace. The crowd parted: eyes watching, tongues wagging, fingers pointing. She was literally being frog-marched out of the ball. “This is complete bollocks.”

“True.” He tugged her arm beneath his. “I can’t remember the last time I dragged a woman from a room.”

“We just got here.” Embarrassment warred with irritation. “They haven’t even served dinner.”

“Never fear.” He glanced at her and abruptly, astonishingly, the dimples emerged. “I’ll make sure you are fed.”

“That isn’t the point.” She would
not
let this surly man off the hook because of some dimples.
She would not
. As he pulled her across the foyer towards the front doors, a doorman hurriedly produced their coats. “I thought the point was to be seen together.”

“Correct.” He slid his arms into his black Armani jacket. “We will take care of that right now.”

Through the door they went. Right into a sea of flashing lights and a chorus of yells.

The fear clutched in her throat and fisted shut any remaining words she had. The flashbulbs bloomed in her face, and she had a sudden image of her picture being carefully cut from a tabloid. Taped to a wall. Gloated over and obsessed over. Ugly, slimy memories rose like haunting wraiths swirling around her, grasping and gouging and gripping her in their talons.

“No!” The cry came from her heart; a spiked scream of fear.

Marcus jerked his head around to stare at her. What he saw caused his dark, satanic brows to tighten into a fierce frown. With a sharp tug, he wrapped her in one hard arm and picked up his pace. Striding through the crowd, he ignored the catcalls, the questions. Even though she now lay sheltered in his grasp, she was unable to push the ghosts of her past away.

He would see the pictures.

He would find her.

He would kidnap her.

It seemed like hours to her, yet it must have been only seconds before they were safely ensconced inside the limo. The car pulled away from the curb and the press and the photographs, leaving her limp with exhaustion.

“What’s wrong?” He inspected her with sharp eyes. “You have gone completely white.”

“Nothing.”

His dark brows rose. “You appear as if you’re about to faint and I am supposed to believe it is nothing? Don’t take me for a fool,
carita.
”

“I don’t like my picture being taken. That’s all.” She slumped into the warm leather seat, pulling at the lapels of her new faux fur coat to conceal her face from his scrutiny.

“That’s the whole point of this outing.” He pulled the omnipresent mobile phone from his pocket, then slipped his finger across its screen. “To be seen together.”

“I d-don’t see why there have to be so many pictures.”

“The more pictures, the more chance my brother will see one and get the message.”

“Your brother isn’t going to care about us being together.” Frustration at his stubbornness chipped a bit of her fear away. “Other than knowing both of us and being rather curious as to how we got together.”

He jerked his head up and pinned her with his glare. “The love of your life not care?” he mocked. “You have such little hold on him?”

“He is not the love of my life,” she gritted.

“But you confessed a towering love for him when we first met.” He continued to glare at her, silver swords flashing. Did the memory bother him? Is this why she glimpsed fierce anger in his gaze? “You begged me to release him into your arms.”

“I did not beg.”

“Close enough.” He returned his attention to his emails.

“You misunderstood what I was saying.”

“I misunderstood nothing.” His fingers moved over his phone. “Don’t try and convince me I can let you go and you will behave with Matteo. It is an exercise in futility.”

Silence descended. Darcy curled her hand on the fake fur, taking slight comfort in the rich feel of the coat. The comfort, however, wasn’t enough to banish the old fear chugging through her veins. The realization hit her; the longer she hung with the Great La Rocca, the more and more exposure she was going to get in the press. More press exposure = more chance she’d be found.

Bloody hell. For a smart girl, she’d behaved rather stupidly, hadn’t she?

It was imperative to get away. Now. What could she say to penetrate this man’s thick, arrogant hide? Which words could she use to convince him this was a stupid waste of his time and hers?

“Stop trying to figure a way around me,” he grumbled from across the seat. “I can see your scheming and conniving from ten meters away.”

Some woman had really, really done a job on this man. And she was unjustly reaping the rewards.

“You might be able to dazzle those men back at the ball into falling at your feet,” he continued. “However, I am a different kind of man.”

A sharp thrill spiked in her. He’d noticed the attention her charm had elicited. The realization gave a small stroke to her ego.

Then his last words penetrated her brain.

The thrill tightened her fear into outright panic. Not only did she have to get away from him because of the press, but he had just slapped another realization right in front of her.

He was a different kind of man for her. This close proximity to him—to his big body, his bold stare, his potent masculinity—was casting a lure around her. His allure drained her of her spunk, garbled her thinking. If she was always with him for this coming month, she was very afraid she might do the unthinkable: let go of her pride and fall into his arms.

He would win the war between them. Then, when he walked away, she would be left alone to fight her demon once more.

Safe
?

A hysterical laugh burbled in her throat.

Being with this man wasn’t safe. Being with him was the most unsafe she’d ever been since she’d been seventeen.

A deep sigh came from him. “It is such a waste of time,
carita.
”

She peered at him. His attention was back on her. A quirk of a smile graced his mouth. The silver now glowed in his eyes. His big body leaned back in casual elegance on the fine leather.

“It is a waste of time,” she agreed, hoping he’d finally listen. “You’re holding me against my will for no reason whatsoever.”

“Against your will? For no reason?” A disparaging sound slid across the seat. “You made a choice to be here. And you and I both know there’s a very good reason.”

Turning from his cynical stare, she stared at the back of the driver’s head. What was the use of arguing with him anymore? The stubborn arrogance he exuded shielded him from any doubts or second thoughts.

A deep dread settled down on her.

“Let us agree it would be best if you stopped your endless womanly machinations and instead took the only reasonable avenue before you.”

“Womanly machinations?” His accusation stung and frustration and fear turned to outright fury. What was the difference between his bullying and her attempt to stand her ground? She was merely protecting herself by using the skills she’d acquired the hard way. Her temper spiked through the last of the lingering nightmare. “Reasonable avenue?”

“It would be reasonable for you to enjoy the situation you are in to the fullest rather than arguing with me at every turn.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” His voice turned harsh. “It would be extremely smart of you to stop trying to manipulate me.”

“I use my charm and personality to get my way. So?” She shot a fuming glare across the seat. “You use your power and money to get yours. What’s the difference?”

His steel gaze shimmered with the light of battle. “The difference is I’m honest about what my plans are. You, a typical woman, are not.”

The man had a chip on his shoulder the size of Wembley Stadium. His attitude about women reeked of cynical distrust. Which was something she could kindly point out to him. “What woman did this to you? Made you so suspicious of anything they do or say?”

He moved back along the leather. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I allow women to do many things to me. When I want them to.”

She ignored the sexual gleam in his eye. She knew it was a ploy to take her off track. “I think you may want to contemplate a bit of counseling.”

“Counseling?” His satanic brows rose in disbelief.

Giving him a pitying look from underneath her eyelashes, she smiled with satisfaction when his body stiffened. She had turned the tables quite neatly. If she was being burned by their association, why shouldn’t he be? Why not throw more wood on the fire? “My bet is there are some old experiences you might want to discuss.”

“I have no need for psychobabble.” The sexual gleam had turned to ice in his eyes. “As I don’t indulge in bets, you will be disappointed.”

He glanced at his mobile, dismissing her once more. Or was it a form of hiding from her scrutiny? Her questions? Her digging?

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She grabbed the phone from his hand and slid it under her coat.

“Don’t be childish,” he growled. “Give it back.”

“No can do.” Her grip tightened on the prize. Then another weapon appeared in her brain. “Who was that woman tonight?”

An irritated finger tapped on his leg. “I talked to many women tonight.”

“Tall. Blonde. Beautiful.” The words came from her mouth, a staccato accusation in spite of herself. “Hard to forget.”

The finger froze. “No one of importance.”

She’d been right. Very right. The rigid line of his jaw, the blank tone in his voice, it all told a story. A story she wanted to know with a desperation that surprised her. “My guess is she’s very important. What’s her name?”

His brow arched and a slight smile slid across his face. “Jealous? How fascinating.”

He was quick at recovery, she’d give him that. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I find your jealousy much more fascinating to discuss, though.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“I think you are,” he murmured, his accent thickening. “Don’t worry. You are currently the only one I want in my bed.”

His words sizzled through her, lighting a disturbing fire deep inside, banishing any thoughts of inquiring about his past with another woman. A flush of sexual excitement burned through her, leaving only pure need behind.

“Such a waste of time, this sparring, arguing.” He leaned over and a long finger touched her brow, then whispered along her cheek and across her lips. “Why not stop this fighting and spend our time doing something far more pleasurable?”

The sizzle exploded deep within. It shocked her. His touch didn’t bring forth her usual reaction—the need to pull away, the instinctive desire to keep her distance. Instead, she wanted him to come closer, touch more of her.

Why him? Why this man? After all these years, after she’d been sure she’d never feel the sexual pleasure other women talked about—

He inched closer and did what she so desperately wanted. She felt his breath on her cheek. His hand slipped along her jaw, moved her mouth closer to his. His distinct scent enveloped her, rich and redolent of musk, man. Sex. She breathed him in, wanting him.

No, she shouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Could she?

In the midst of her turmoil, one of his phrases finally caught her attention and saved her from herself.

You are currently the only one I want in my bed.

Currently?

“No.” She pushed the word from her mouth, her lips almost brushing his with the word.

The heat of his gaze brought a blush to her skin. She forced herself to meet his smoky eyes. “No,” she whispered again.

Before she could do or say anything more, his hand slipped beneath her coat, moving along her waist. Making every cell in her body jump to life. Making her gasp.

“I said—”

“I believe this is mine.” His hand slid out of her coat, his phone held tightly in his grip. He gave her a grin as he swung it in front of her.