The Devil to Pay (7 page)

No. No. No!

At least her brain was saying that, but the hot liquid feeling between her thighs was screaming out an entirely different response.

“So I can’t persuade you?” Daniel undid the first couple of buttons of his shirt as he leant lazily against Rianna’s headrest. His gaze scorched like lasers over the swell of her breasts beneath her white blouse and she could feel her treacherous nipples harden obediently in response to him.

“No,” she replied and crossed her arms tightly across her chest as a steward approached with a drinks tray. Her mouth suddenly felt very dry.

“Okay,
cara
, not quite ready,” he replied smoothly and turned toward the back of the plane. “But it will only be a matter of time.”

Rianna closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as she heard him singing something unrecognisable in Italian as he strolled away.

Damn the man.

Daniel spent ages in the shower which Rianna convinced herself, was a good thing, because it gave her a chance to enjoy breakfast alone. She made fast work of some delicately slivered exotic fruit followed by crisp grilled pancetta and flat mushrooms, relishing every mouthful after the previous night’s barely touched meal.

“That smells good.” Daniel stole a piece of buttered toast from her plate and shamelessly slung his large frame into the adjacent seat, oblivious to the fact he had startled her. “I wish I’d had pudding last night actually
and
bread. I’m starving.”

It took Rianna a moment to regain her mental equilibrium as her gaze roved over the newly refreshed executive. He wore an expensive-looking sky-blue shirt which looked as soft to touch as his impeccably shaven face. The cool fabric augmented the butterscotch lacquer of his skin and fitted perfectly, showcasing the sharp, muscular ridges of his torso. The black waves of his hair quivered as the aircraft hit a pocket of turbulence. The top layers were long and swept back, stark and threatening. They reminded Rianna of the dark forbidden angel who hid in the shadows of her heart, tormenting her with his hands and mouth...

But those few razor-cut layers of hair were as wild as this corporate beast allowed himself to be. The rest was clipped closely and precisely into the contours of his nape and around his ears. How many desperate sweet nothings had been whispered into those over the years? As she wondered, a jealous little pang shot her straight through the heart. “It’s delicious,” she replied, self-consciously wiping a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth. “I wasn’t quite sure what to have. Everything on the menu looked so good.”

“Breakfast is the best part of having a company jet,” he replied and brushed his large hands over his chest in anticipation. “With expensive restaurant food, I never actually feel I’ve had a proper meal. My mother’s fault. You’ll probably be surprised to learn she’s one hundred percent Welsh and proud of it. She still stuffs me silly whenever I go home as if I need the extra calories to keep out the cold or something. Meatballs, homemade chips, hot little pies, ridiculous.”

He gestured for the steward to come. “But like your green valleys and gallons of rainwater, it’s honest and good in its way. I find a lot of restaurants can be downright pretentious when it comes to normal food, really get above themselves. I don’t like it.”

“Really?” Rianna replied. “Even when they know it’s you?”

“Oh, no,” he replied with a wry smile which sizzled right through her. “Not when it’s
Daniel Bracchi
, but on the odd occasion I’m not recognised or expected, yes.”

His revelation about being half Welsh left Rianna feeling curiously more at ease. It levelled him, made him seem much less intimidating, and he also seemed to be in a much better mood than the day before. “So you hate the weather, but don’t mind the food? There’s hope for the old country yet then?”

“I never leave it without having at least one curry, no.”

Rianna giggled in spite of herself. “I don’t believe that for one minute.”

“I have to. And a gyro.”

“I really
don’t
believe you,” Rianna blurted. “You’re trying to get me to admit how common I am by saying I love all those sorts of things, too. Well, I’m not going to. You don’t fool me for one minute!”

“Why would I do that? Neither of us have anything to prove.” He nodded with appreciation as the steward placed his breakfast tray in front of him. “So I’m very well off these days. I’ve got the money, the status and all the trappings, but it wasn’t always like that, whatever stories my dad might have told you. And then there’s you: professional qualifications, work experience and a position of responsibility at such a young age all earned the hard way. You have no need to feel intimidated by me, Rianna. Or feel in the least bit
common
.”

“Common was probably an unfortunate choice of word,” she replied and then realised that Tomos Bracchi had never really said very much about his son.

“If you want something, you have to grab it with both hands. You only get one shot at life and I intend to make the most of it. So should you.” His eyebrows rose in pleasure as he savoured his first mouthful. “And that’s exactly what I intend to do with this very good breakfast.”

Rianna surreptitiously watched him during the flight as he juggled paperwork, drank gallons of coffee and dealt with endless calls to his phone. He was fascinating, she thought, secretly willing along another noisy Italian outburst when something wasn’t going quite his way, pretending she wasn’t hanging out for just one more frustrated grimace as he humoured some idiot who wouldn’t hang up.

But a nasty voice kept reminding her this was just work. Nothing more, nothing less, just work. For both of them. However it was impossible to deny the attraction she felt toward the man pacing around just a couple of feet away from her. Her body pulsed with so many hormones, she felt sure he must be able to sense just how sexually vulnerable she was around him, how irresistible he was becoming to her.

“Oh by the way,” Daniel announced in an offhand way as he opened his laptop, “there’s been a change of schedule. You probably noticed how many phone calls I’ve had to deal with, and not including the ones I had while I was trying to shower.”

Rianna shrugged. “Not really.” She hoped her cheeks wouldn’t betray such a blatant lie.

“Well, basically a couple of the major board members can’t make it tomorrow. One’s got flu and the other is stuck in quarantine after a viral outbreak on his cruise ship.” He paused, but didn’t make eye contact as he tapped rapidly away on his keyboard. “So we need to extend this trip by another week at least.”

“Oh, no.”

Ignoring Rianna’s intake of breath, he continued. “Domestic help, drivers and nannies have been arranged to assist your grandmother and I’ve suggested they all go on holiday somewhere if it suits them.” His eyes finally met hers. “I hope you don’t mind. I needed to make a decision quickly, and it seemed the most sensible course of action.”

Rianna was completely thrown. “I’m not sure if—”

“Someone from HR is going now to speak to your grandmother, in fact—” The sound of an incoming text message had him quickly scanning his phone and reading out loud. “‘Mrs. Peters says not to worry and a week in the Canary Islands would do the children a world of good.’”

Rianna stared at him in amazement for a few moments. “You
have
been
busy, haven’t you?”

“Always busy,” he murmured at the laptop screen. “Always something to do. No excuse for stopping these days. I’m not like my dad. He never got to grips with technology, had no interest in it, couldn’t see the point. And it’s far too late for him to change.”

“I can just see him now,” Rianna replied, her heart rate returning to normal after the shock of the last few moments. “Ranting on about computers and messy cables. He hates it, you’re right.”

“I tell myself it’s a generation thing, not him just being damn awkward. I’ll bet your dad’s the same.”

Rianna felt a prickle of discomfort dart from head to toe again. This wasn’t the time or the place to be getting into uncomfortable subjects. “More of a mechanical engineering sort of man. Nuts, bolts, black grease, vintage cars—”

Daniel’s head snapped round, his blue eyes flashing with interest. “Really? What sort?”

“Just a Morgan left now. Three-wheeler. Red. Old.”

“You’ve got me interested. I’m thinking about entering the
Mille Miglia
rally next year, and that’s exactly the sort of small car I’m looking for. How does she run?”

“Um, she doesn’t,” Rianna said quickly. She was getting into hot water with this conversation. “She’s been in a garage for twenty years. Her last trip was on a flat bed truck after Dad drove her into a brick wall.”

“Oh...” Daniel thoughtfully ran his hand around the square contours of his chin. “Could it be fixed, do you think?”

“Dad said the engine was totally wrecked by the impact. It would cost a fortune, so no.”

“I’d like a look at it all the same, maybe bring one of my engineers along—”

“I don’t think so.”

“Nonsense! It’s just the sort of project I need to force me out of the office. I’d make him a good offer, way above market price if necessary—”

“My dad’s dead, Daniel, and although it’s a rusty old heap, it’s all the kids have got left to remember him by.” Rianna’s skin throbbed with awkwardness as he stared at her in silence, his previous exuberance gone. “So the car’s not for sale.”

“No, of course,” he replied, reaching for his laptop once more, swallowing hard as he squinted at the blank screen.

Chapter Five

Well how the hell was
he
supposed to know about her dad?

Daniel felt it inappropriate to continue with flirtatious conversation since Rianna’s revelation, and discussing work seemed callous and insensitive. Consequently, the journey from the Genoa airport had been tense and silent.

He’d been immediately curious about the rest of her family the minute she’d told him her father was dead. Presumably her mother was absent for one reason or another since it was Rianna and her grandmother caring for those two children back in Wales. Her
brother’s
children, now what was going on there? Perhaps he was better off not knowing. The truth might sicken him.

And her personal life was none of his business at all. There was no need for him to slot all the pieces together to get a full three-dimensional picture of Rianna Peters. It wasn’t relevant to the dreadful quarry, and it wasn’t relevant to how badly he wanted to get her naked. It was a bad habit, the need to know
everything.
He’d been taught how to slow his thought processes and just empty his mind occasionally, to simply enjoy things without analysing them to death, to bask in the peace of no information.

But she had shattered his calm.

He needed to take back control and banish this new strange feeling of helpless freefall. His urgent need to feel her warm naked skin pressed close to his clouded every decision he had made in the last couple of days, and he needed to break the spell as quickly as possible. He would seduce her completely this time, bed her relentlessly and get her well and truly out of his system. Perhaps then he could think straight.

The overwhelming burn of his sexual hunger for her was the reason he had postponed the board meeting for as long as possible. It was a
white
lie, a means to have her all to himself for a little longer. The chairman
did
say he had a bit of a cold coming on, Daniel reasoned and quashed any remorse he should feel about his deception. Rianna would never find out and besides, he
was
trying to help her and the godforsaken quarry after all. He genuinely wanted to do the decent thing as far as the workers were concerned, but other than that, he didn’t give a damn about the place.

If it wasn’t for his stubborn, elderly relative living in Wales and his father’s insistence the quarry remain part of the business, he’d sell it to the Russian like a shot. He hated it. He really did and he was still shell-shocked that in such a dreadful place he had stumbled upon the most perfect woman he had ever seen. She was the culmination of every single one of his adolescent and fully-grown dreams.

Physically she was perfect for him, every curve, every feminine movement she made, every drop of her feminine perfume... She ticked
all
of his pernickety, neatly lined-up boxes. He’d treat her well, buy her expensive gifts, and make sure she was well looked after when it was time for her to go home, when he’d finished with her in his bed. There was nothing immoral about two grown adults who were obviously attracted to one another having a week or so of unbridled sex and fun, was there?

A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him he was being a vile brat, a sharp, virtuous little voice he chose to ignore as he determinedly thrust the Bugatti into top gear.

****

Rianna’s knuckles whitened around the leather trim of the front seat. The coastal road drive from Genoa exhilarated her. It was the stuff of a petrol-head’s dreams. Daniel had barely spoken a word since they left the airport which, she reassured herself, was a blessing under the circumstances. The road was treacherous. Twenty minutes of tunnels, sheer roadside drops and underground s-bends took a serious toll on her nerves. She’d never travelled over tarmac with such speed in her entire life. Her brain registered the fleeting visual sensations as they tore through the countryside. The green of olive, citrus and chestnut trees, the black and grey of asphalt and rock faces all made an indelible impression in her brain.

There were also the dazzling flashes of blue. The Levante Riviera sparkling like a basket of sapphires, the cobalt sky and the savage cerulean brilliance of Daniel’s eyes as they continued their autostrada odyssey. Rianna was awestruck as she watched his hands control the twists and turns of the steering wheel, the gear changes and the furious hand gestures telling one particularly flash Maserati driver what he thought of him.