A Sicilian Seduction

‘Nothing,’ she said, turning away from him, suddenly feeling so weary she just wanted to sit down in a dark corner somewhere and sulk. ‘How soon do you intend to move in here?’ she asked, looking for a diversion, and finding it where she did not want it to be.

‘Now,’ he announced. ‘We will do it now. I will make a few phone calls to get things started, then leave you here to oversee the installation of everything we require while I shoot off to Knight’s to meet with my staff.’

‘But I need to go back there myself!’ she protested. ‘I’ve left my things there—my coat, my purse, my—’

‘No problem. I will collect anything of yours and bring it with me when I return,’ he insisted, not even seeming to see her look of angry dismay at the way he was completely taking her over like this! ‘By the time I get back, I expect this place to be up and running,’ he warned, already lifting a mobile phone from his pocket and punching in numbers while Natalia sank into the nearest chair in an air of defeat.

It was like being in the presence of a human dynamo and she just didn’t have any energy left with which to keep up with him. So she didn’t bother—the chair was as good as any dark corner to sulk in at this precise moment. So she sat there and simply let his voice waft over her head as he made call after call and she pondered the miseries of crossing London on a daily basis just to endure more of—this.

‘Okay. Everything is organised,’ he said eventually. ‘The technicians will be here in half an hour. They know what I want. Make sure that everything is up and running before you let them leave.’ He glanced at his watch, frowned and began heading for the door that wasn’t a door. ‘Give the concierge a call,’ he instructed over his shoulder. ‘Find out the name of the nearest supermarket and get some provisions delivered here. I will be back—whenever.’ He was already at the lift. ‘Until then—make yourself at home…’

CHAPTER FIVE

MAKE yourself at home…

Well, Natalia decided to do just that. Giancarlo wanted provisions? He got provisions. He wanted his office up and running by the time he got back? He got his office up and running by the time he got back. He even got the office drawers and cupboards stocked with every miscellaneous item known to the nearest office stores suppliers she could locate as soon as the telephone line was connected.

Efficiency was her middle name, she decided. No one could fault her organisation skills! Everything was neatly filed, everything had its own neatly printe

d tab. In fact, in the few hours she’d had, she’d brought Signor Cardinale’s nice new workplace to life with an absolute vengeance.

And vengeance felt like a very good word to her at this precise moment while she sat in her chosen chair at her chosen monitor screen, in her chosen corner of the room, doing exactly what she was paid to do, which was dealing with all the neglected business of the day that had arrived in her network-linked work-folder while she had been otherwise engaged.

In fact she was just finishing up when the sound of the lift drawing to a halt alerted her to his return, so even her timing was super-efficient, she made a very satisfied note, glancing at her watch as she did so.

Seven o’clock, it told her. Which made her a very dedicated personal assistant with super-efficient secretarial skills! she mocked herself grimly as she shut down her network-link to Knight’s.

Outside it had been dark for hours, so it was a long time since she’d gone round the apartment switching on lights and drawing curtains. But although the place had taken on a more appealing image with the subtle use of artificial lighting, she was heartily glad to be getting out of it.

She stood up as she heard his footsteps sound in the white-tiled foyer. By the time he appeared in the opening she had stepped around her chair and was just unhooking her suit jacket from its backrest. Glancing up, she found herself looking into a lean dark face that was beginning to look a little jaded round the edges. He needed a shave, his shirt was open at the neck again, the tie knotted but hanging loose as if tugged like that by impatient fingers. Over his arm lay her coat, her soft lilac scarf, and he was holding a plastic carrier bag in which, she presumed, was her handbag.

The desire to voice a polite greeting to him was not even an option. She was angry, and if it weren’t for her loyalty to Edward she would have walked out of this apartment hours ago, gone to collect her own things from Knight’s, then walked out of there too, with the intention of never returning!

But as things stood regarding her commitment to Edward, she merely demonstrated her anger with Ginacarlo Cardinale by flicking her eyes away from him, then completely ignoring him as she finished pulling on her jacket.

But that did not mean she wasn’t hotly aware that his eyes were sliding over the dark red top she was in the process of covering up…

Red on red, he was thinking, wanting to voice some deep, dark, sensual question as to why the red of her wonderful hair was not clashing with the red of her very sexy top. But he was too alive to the silent warning that any comment at all from him was not going to be appreciated.

She was back behind her frosty wall, he made note, then grimaced because—hell, who could blame her? Separated, isolated, and infiltrated were the buzzwords which came to mind to describe what he had done to Natalia Deyton.

Then he’d left her alone here to stew on it all for hours upon end with the deliberate intention of keeping her balanced on an emotional edge, ready to tip over whenever he felt like making it happen.

So, no wonder she looked frosty. No wonder her chin was up and her mouth pulled into that flat little line of stiff disapproval meant to convey a warning to him that if he said just one word out of place she would most probably kill him.

But, Dio, she looked sensational in her anger with her hair streaming down her back like a proud defiance in her absolute refusal to redress what he had arrogantly undressed earlier.

‘Your luggage has arrived.’ She spoke suddenly.

His loins gave him a vicious kick because that icy voice was just begging to be melted.

‘I had it placed in your room for you to deal with.’

Her fingers were busy fastening buttons on the severe black jacket that did nothing to hide the body beneath and, even if it had, he would still have been able to feel the firmness of her breast against his palm so it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

‘Also, a car was delivered.’ She pointed to a set of keys lying on the workstation set up near the window. ‘You will find it parked down in the basement. Black, I believe,’ she added with just the merest hint of acid. ‘Of the Italian variety. Not easy to miss, I should think…’

And that, he read, had been a deliberate strike at his masculine ego for his choice of car in a traffic-blocked city like London. She would have been more impressed by a small nondescript run-about than his brand new phallic-symbol Ferrari, he judged, and almost sent her a provocative challenging smile—but the conditions didn’t advise it.