A Sicilian Seduction

‘Because Edward didn’t know anything about it.’ Giancarlo smiled. ‘The cruise was arranged as a surprise present from me for their silver wedding anniversary,’ he explained. ‘You did know that Edward and my sister have been married for twenty-five years?’ he then slid in silkily.

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Yes,’ she confirmed.

Yes, he repeated silently. Of course you know. This was supposed to be the point where he duly informed her of what he knew about her affair with Edward—before he told her to get the hell out of his brother-in-law’s life while she still had a chance to do it in one piece. He even had the fat cheque already made out and waiting in his pocket, to give a little impetus to her departure.

But the cheque remained where it was, and he no longer wanted Natalia Deyton to escape in one piece. He wanted to retain certain parts of her, the secrets of her beautiful body for one, the key to her heart for another.

Vengeance, sweet vengeance, he named it poetically. The Sicilian in him had no difficulty at all squaring his intentions with his conscience.

‘The trip was planned in complete secrecy, and dropped on them both without warning a mere hour before they had to leave for Heathrow airport,’ he expounded with a wry look that acknowledged the necessity to give neither of them the time to think about it. ‘The surprise also came with my personal assurance to Edward that I would come and take care of things here for him while he is away, so he could have no excuse to protest the speed with which he and Alegra were rushed off to catch a flight to Barbados, from where they will begin their cruise.’

‘On one of your cruise-liners?’ she asked as a glimmer of understanding began to hit her blue eyes.

They weren’t sultry but at least they were no longer frightened. ‘What else?’ He smiled. ‘Honeymoon suite, royal deck, no luxury spared. Your concern for their well-being does you proud, Miss Deyton,’ he then said with blatant flattery. ‘But my own concern for their well-being would not offer them anything less than the very best to help them get over the tragic year they’ve had.’

Another magic word, he made grim note as she came jerking to her feet at the mention of the tragedy. Her eyes began changing again, clouding over—though not into the sultry expression he had been aiming for. What he saw was guilt. It showed she possessed a conscience, he supposed, though what that guilt was confirming to him did his resolve no favours.

Maybe he should just revert back to his original plan and throw her out of here! he considered on a sudden rise of black anger that hardened his expression, when he recalled the terrible year his sister had just endured since the violent death of her son—her only child—in a car accident. Marco had been the shining light in Alegra’s life. When that light had been snuffed out, the family had feared she would never survive the darkness that had followed.

So to discover her husband had found solace from his grief in a woman half the age of his wife was a sin no self-respecting Sicilian could forgive. As he stood there, staring into Natalia Deyton’s pained blue eyes, he had a dreadful urge to reach out and choke the very life out of her!

It therefore came as a complete shock to have her reach out and gently touch his shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she softly murmured. ‘Edward told me how close you were to Marco. It must have been a terrible time for all of you.’

She had seen his anger and was mistaking it for pain, Giancarlo realised. And her touch on his shoulder was making the taut flesh beneath it crawl with revulsion.

Liar, he then immediately scoffed at his own interpretation. His flesh was tingling with pleasure, not revulsion. Just as his heart was beginning to beat that bit harder because her eyes were sultry at last! And the idea of reverting back to his original plan suddenly lost its appeal because there was much more satisfaction to be gained from slaking and slaking and slaking himself in this woman—before he tossed her onto the heap she belonged upon.

Though that heap at this precise moment had taken on the shape and form of a bed of tumbled linen. He could see her stretched out on it, naked and aware, inviting him with those amazing eyes to take anything he wanted from her.

A much more satisfying form of vengeance, he decided, knowing, even as h

e told himself that, that he was responding to the weakness of his own burning flesh rather than to the incisive intellect he was much better known for.

It didn’t stop him, though, from reaching up to touch a gentle finger to the corner of her beautiful mouth. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured. ‘For your understanding.’

The mouth quivered beneath his touch. Her eyes were growing darker, her cheeks slightly flushed, and he felt himself being drawn slowly downwards until his mouth was within a mere hair’s breadth of tasting pure heaven.

Abruptly she jerked away, and with a rather dazed shake of her head took a couple of unsteady steps backwards, almost falling over the chair she had been sitting in, in her haste to put some distance between them.

Giancarlo watched and said nothing, in this case deciding that silence was golden when only a fool would misread the signals passing between them.

Having placed what she seemed to believe was a safe distance between them, Natalia composed herself then—quite bravely, he thought—looked him directly in the eye. ‘How long will Edward be away?’ she asked.

He almost smiled at that cool little voice, but managed to control the urge. ‘Six weeks,’ he replied, watching her lovely skin take on that milk-white pallor again as she took in this last piece of shocking information.

She was seeing six weeks of hell ahead of her while she tried to fight her own feelings, he suspected. He gave her a week—at the most. And made no effort whatsoever to hide his own sexual awareness. His eyes remained dark and his expression intense, the message he was conveying so clear that she blushed and had to look away again.

‘Edward assured me of your full co-operation in his absence,’ he informed her dulcetly, ruthlessly piling innuendo on innuendo with all the masculine charm at his Sicilian fingertips. ‘And I do not see us having a problem getting on with each other—do you?’

‘N-no, of course not,’ she agreed with as much professional cool as she could muster. But she was looking quite satisfyingly flustered as she turned her back on him to stare at the door in a rather desperate need for escape now. ‘Is—is there anything I can get for you?’ she asked as desperation became an uncontrollable desire and she began walking on unsteady legs towards the door.

‘Coffee would be nice,’ he said. ‘Black, preferably Italian if you can lay your hands on any.’

She nodded and kept walking.

‘Plus all the files on Edward’s major clients,’ he added more briskly. ‘Specifically the clients you were busily…charming during lunch today.’

‘Taylor-Gant.’ She supplied the name with her back still towards him so her frown was for her eyes only at the odd way he had used the word charm. ‘We market their designer lingerie.’