Sweet Seduction (9 page)

‘You blindsided me again,’ she said as they walked down the stairs to the aisle.

‘It was a surprise,’ he said, grinning.

‘What is it with you and saving little children?’ she asked.

He dropped her hand. ‘Nothing,’ he said, all trace of joviality vanishing from his voice. ‘Let’s get a drink.’ He walked quickly ahead of her up the long aisle, making her trot to keep up.

What had she said? They emerged into the lobby and Antonio headed for the bar. Sienna stumbled slightly – the heels would be the death of her. She recovered quickly but a group of women nearby sniggered. Marcella, standing at the centre of the group, laughed out loud. Sienna looked away quickly.
What a witch
. As Sienna walked past she heard the words
cheap
,
tracksuit
and
common
. Her cheeks flamed as she held her head high.

Antonio presented her with a glass of champagne.

‘Don’t do that again,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Leave me at the mercy of those dreadful women.’

Antonio looked about and spotted the group staring at them. ‘Them?’

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t worry about them,’ he said.

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘Why are you so worried? You must be used to rude people. There are plenty of them in our business.’

‘Yes, but guests are guests. I don’t go to the opera and share drinks with them . . .’

‘But —’

‘Believe me, Antonio, it makes a difference.’ She glanced at the group. Malicious eyes flashed in her direction. ‘These women can smell a fraud a mile away.’

‘So let’s give them something to really talk about.’ He caught her body to his. His lips brushed her ear. ‘Let’s give them a show they won’t forget,’ he whispered.

As heat rushed through her body she’d have agreed to anything. ‘Okay,’ she breathed.

His lips claimed her mouth with a deep penetrating kiss. She closed her eyes as she melted against him. He tasted of citrus and vanilla.

Keep your distance.
Her mind screamed rational thoughts, but instead she wrapped her arms around his hard, hot body. He pressed her back against the bar and she moulded against his hardness. She forgot the women, she forgot her troubles, she forgot everything except this man and the way he lit her up inside.

It didn’t feel false. It felt all too real. Too dangerous.

She broke away.

‘I think . . . that will be . . . enough to convince them,’ she stammered.

‘Are you sure?’ he said, stroking his fingers down her bare back. She shivered as desire pooled hot between her legs. ‘I’m happy to do a little more convincing.’

‘Stop, Antonio,’ she whispered, placing her palms against his chest and holding him at bay.

‘Are you sure you want me to?’ he murmured, gazing down with seduction in his eyes.

Seduction, exactly. Not connection, not affection, not love. Sex with no emotion. That was what she saw in those dark, glittering eyes.

She stepped away, but trailed her finger down his chest to maintain the act for the many eyes that peered at them.

‘Yes, that’s enough. I need to freshen up,’ she said, turning and walking towards the bathrooms.

Antonio might be able to turn off his emotions, but she couldn’t. She reached the bathroom and quickly claimed a cubicle. She leant heavily against the closed door. Each time Antonio kissed her, Sienna felt him steal a piece of her soul. He was taking ownership without knowing it and without her permission. She must protect herself. She must develop a heart as hard as Antonio’s or be lost.

The door to the bathroom banged open.

‘And did you see the photos at the airport?’ a nasty voice announced, overly loudly.

Marcella! Sienna was sure of it.

‘Antonio can dress her in Sabatini’s best but she’ll still be a nobody,’ the woman continued.

Mocking laughter filled the room.

‘What’s he doing with her then?’ another voice asked.

‘Slumming it. Just like we take the occasional pool boy and it means nothing, so he —’

Sienna dragged in a deep unsteady breath, steeled herself and opened her stall door. She crossed the room to wash her hands. The hawkish eyes of three women watched her every move. Their eyes glittered with more malevolence than their myriad diamonds.

‘Perhaps, Marcella, our relationship is based on something you don’t understand,’ Sienna said, as she dried her hands. ‘Perhaps Antonio wants a woman who can see past the good looks and the money —’

‘How dare you speak to me,’ Marcella spat, stepping in close. Disturbingly close. Sienna backed up to the bathroom door and opened it.

‘What are you?’ Marcella snapped. ‘You’re not even Italian. You’re, what –
Australian
?’ She looked down her nose as she ground out the words. ‘A country built on the back of thieves. You are less than the dirt on my shoe.’

Sienna recoiled at the ferocity of the attack.

‘Well, that’s okay with me, Marcella.’ Antonio’s voice boomed through the open door. ‘Sienna and I like to get down and dirty, don’t we, sweetheart?’ His light tone belied the rage burning in his eyes.

Marcella looked as though she’d been smacked across the face with a two-day-old fish.

‘Antonio, darling,’ Marcella began in a smooth voice. ‘I was just —’

Antonio held up his hand. He clearly would not tolerate another word from the woman. He grabbed Sienna’s hand and escorted her from the bathroom. ‘Come on, Sienna, I think we’ve had enough opera for one night.’

Soul-stealer or not, relief washed through her, being back in Antonio’s care.

‘Oh, and by the way,’ Antonio shot over his shoulder to Marcella, ‘my patronage of this opera house ceases today.’

Sienna couldn’t help glancing back. Marcella slumped against the wall, her face a picture of horror. Each cruel word had probably cost the woman a million euro.

Antonio escorted Sienna down the opera house steps and into the street. He’d known Marcella since he’d been four years old and had never seen that side of her personality. It unnerved him. He made it his business to know people and what made them tick. His success depended on it.

‘Thanks for saving me,’ Sienna said.

He looked down at her. ‘No problem.’ Oh, yes. That was him – the great protector. It didn’t matter how many children his millions saved, how many lost children he helped in the street, nothing would fill the gaping hole in his heart. ‘You may only be my pretend wife, but no one hurts my family without consequences,’ Antonio growled.

Sienna’s gaze flashed to his face. He could tell she wanted to ask more, but she stayed silent. If she asked, he’d tell her nothing. His terrible secret would die with him. If he spoke of his shame, it would destroy him. He did everything to distract himself from the truth – work, women, travel – anything to keep the demons at bay. He only attempted sleep when he was exhausted, or the nightmares would come. Slipping under the water. Drowning. Screaming.

‘Antonio.’

‘Yes,’ he said sharply.

‘You’re hurting me.’

He dropped his grip on Sienna’s hand. ‘Sorry.’

‘Are you all right?’ she asked, rubbing her arm.

‘Yes,’ he said, not looking at her, fighting with his memories – slamming them back into the black hole of guilt, shame and pain.

They walked through the moonlit streets in silence. By the time they reached the hotel, Sienna sagged against Antonio’s body. He held her firmly. She felt warm and luscious against him.

‘Not far now,’ he said, stroking her arm.

He’d expected a lot from her today. Too much. After the debacle at the airport he’d thought he’d made a huge mistake. But he’d misjudged how much the press would love Sienna. His Cinderella.

She faltered slightly and he tightened his grip.

‘I hate these shoes,’ she muttered.

He laughed. ‘You’re the only woman I know who hates heels.’ He liked that about her. Most women he dated expected expensive trappings – jewellery, couture, penthouse suites with a dedicated handmaid. Carmela had told him how Sienna helped her unpack all the Sabatini clothes. Although Carmela said nothing – she was too much of a professional – he knew she loathed most of the women he brought to the hotel. But she’d given a huge stamp of approval to Sienna.

During the opera, he’d scanned the internet. The media coverage proved better than expected. The press loved her.

They arrived at the hotel. Antonio led Sienna to the lifts and up to the penthouse.

‘Take a seat and I’ll fix us a drink,’ he said.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said as she disappeared into the bedroom.

He walked to the bar and fixed himself a scotch. What would Sienna like? He leant against the counter and waited, replaying the events of the day. His aunt and uncle should read the stories in the newspapers tomorrow. Events continued to unfold just as he’d planned.

He finished his scotch and checked his watch. Why did women always take so long in the bathroom?

‘Sienna, what would you like to drink?’ he called and waited. ‘Sienna?’

He tapped on the bedroom door and opened it. Sienna was asleep on the bed, fully clothed, complete with her strappy sandals. She must have sat down for a moment and fallen asleep sitting up against the pillows, legs dangling off the side of the bed.

Jetlag. Of course, she must be exhausted. Brad said she’d worked sixteen-hour days before she left. He frowned. He hadn’t really considered how tired she must be.

He knelt by the bed and unhooked a sandal. Her skin felt smooth and soft as he slid the shoe from her foot. Sienna murmured at his touch. This was dangerous territory. Each time he came close to this girl he felt something he didn’t want to feel. As though she had the key to some part of him he kept locked away. Locked away tightly so no one would ever find that black part of his soul.

He lifted her legs and slid them onto the bed. What should he do? Wake her? But she looked so peaceful.

A cool breeze swept in from the bay. She shivered and he pulled the throw rug over her golden skin. She drew her legs up to her chest like a small child. She seemed so small and vulnerable snuggled on the huge bed. But she was tougher than she appeared. She had stood her ground against Marcella’s onslaught. What had Sienna said? Perhaps he wanted a woman who could see beyond the money.

No!

He stepped back. That was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He didn’t want anyone close. He didn’t want anyone to understand him. He forced his eyes away from the beauty that lay so alluringly near. He’d spent his life keeping people at arm’s length.

He walked from the room.

That was the way to survive.

That noise. Sienna winced.
Make it stop
. She shook herself awake. The phone. She snatched it from its cradle.

‘Hello,’ she said sleepily.

‘Oh . . . sorry.’ The woman sounded as if she’d been crying.

‘Can I help you?’ Sienna said, sitting up in bed.

‘Is Antonio there?’ the voice said tentatively.

Sienna looked about the room. She noticed the other side of the bed had been slept in. Her eyes widened. She’d slept next to Antonio and hadn’t known it.

‘Hold on a moment please.’ Sienna covered the phone. ‘Antonio,’ she called. Silence. ‘I’m sorry, he’s not here. Can I take a message?’

‘No. I shouldn’t have rung.’ The woman’s voice broke. ‘I’m sorry.’ She hung up.

Sienna replaced the phone and rubbed her eyes. What was that all about? She noticed her black evening gown. She groaned. She’d fallen asleep fully dressed like some small child.

She slid out of bed and took a quick shower. A few minutes later she walked into the living room wearing a lush white hotel robe sporting the Moretti emblem stitched in gold. A plate of fresh fruit and a carafe of juice stood on the sideboard with a room-service breakfast menu next to them.

That was thoughtful – Antonio organising breakfast for her. She reprised the events of the previous evening. She and Antonio seemed to have reached a place of cooperation. She stroked the golden insignia. Maybe this plan could work after all.

A stack of newspapers lay next to the breakfast offering. Sienna gaped. Her face stared back at her from the front page. The photo featured Antonio and her outside the restaurant. It captured the moment she’d reached up and kissed him. Her cheeks warmed as she touched her lips, remembering.

She scanned the caption.
Australian Cinderella captures Italy’s most eligible bachelor
.

She flipped to the next paper.
Antonio Moretti Engaged
.

And the next.
Moretti’s Shotgun Wedding
. She laughed at that one.

She pulled the final paper from the stack.
Antonio’s Secret Love Child
.

She sat heavily. Blinking, she read the headline again. It screamed over a photo of Antonio arm in arm with Amy West. An inset photo featured Amy leaving an obstetrician’s office. The paper slid to the floor.

The door of the suite flew open and Antonio walked across the floor. His gaze flashed from her face to the paper on the floor. ‘It’s not true,’ he said as he scooped up the paper and hurled it into the bin.

‘How can you be sure?’

He walked towards her. ‘If there’s one thing I know, I did not father this child or any other child.’

She stood slowly. ‘Accidents happen.’

‘Not with me.’

‘Come on, Antonio, even —’

‘No!’ He shook his head fervently. ‘I made a decision a long time ago not to have children and I’ve taken the necessary steps to ensure that never happens.’

Sienna slumped on the sofa. ‘You really don’t want kids? What about your business? Who will inherit all this?’ She spread her hands wide to encompass the luxury around her.

‘When the time comes, I’ll simply list it on the stock exchange and divest my shares.’

Sienna sank back into the cushions. Heirs and succession planning was so important in her family. Her father had always talked about the De Luca curse: if the eldest child didn’t take over the family business, bad things happened. He’d then list a series of incidences that proved the curse to be true. She didn’t believe any of that curse nonsense, but if Amy’s baby was Antonio’s, it should be Antonio’s heir.