Bought: Destitute Yet Defiant

‘Silvio—please…’ she begged against his mouth, driven wild by the electric sensations shooting through her body.

Didn’t he feel the same way? Or was he determined to prove that he was capable of control around her?

If that was the case then he obviously lost the battle because he gave a low growl and surged deeper, the movement driving her higher and higher until she was poised on the edge of paradise. Jessie couldn’t breathe or think. She was aware of nothing except what his body was doing to hers. And then he drove into her one more time and she was caught in an explosion of ecstasy, the pleasure so sublime that her mind shut down. As her orgasm fluttered along the length of him she heard him groan and lose control, both of them flying upwards to the same place.

As she gradually returned to earth, Jessie dropped her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his damp flesh. ‘If you let go of me now,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll definitely drown.’

He didn’t answer and a moment later he shifted his grip on her, swung her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her back to the beach.

‘I’m not wearing anything,’ Jessie muttered against his neck, and his hold on her tightened.

‘Get used to it. Apart from public appearances, that’s the way you’re going to be from now on.’

‘Public appearances?’ She thought about the night before. ‘I just don’t feel comfortable with those people, Silvio.’

‘That’s because last night I left you on your own, but that won’t happen again.’ He lowered her onto the blanket and shifted himself over her, his eyes holding hers. ‘Everything is different now. This isn’t for show. This isn’t for anyone else. It’s for us.’

Chapter Eight

WAS this really her life?

The days that followed were so blissful they felt unreal.

Silvio was extraordinarily attentive, and when he wasn’t making love to her he was showing her Sicily, swapping the luxury of his yacht for the luxury of his Maserati as he drove her around the island.

‘You have a car in every port,’ Jessie said dryly, but she was enchanted by what she saw. Almond groves and vineyards, narrow streets with crumbling houses, honeyed by age. Ancient churches, small children playing in the sunshine and a pace of life so slow it was almost standing still.

Absorbing everything around her, Jessie realised that she’d rarely thought beyond her own little world. Places like this hadn’t existed for her, except in the windows of travel agents.

But this was Silvio’s life. He’d travelled all over the world.

The wind whipped her hair across her face and Jessie anchored it with her hand, telling herself that it didn’t matter that she hadn’t even been outside London. ‘It’s beautiful here.’

Silvio drove along the coast road and Jessie leaned her head back against the seat, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face. Each sharp switch in the road took them higher, until the sparkling sea was far beneath them, the dramatic cliffs falling away in an almost vertical drop. And he drove like a native, urging the growling sports car around hairpin bends in what appeared to be a breathless duel with death. Torn between fear and exhilaration, Jessie found herself praying that there were no cars coming in the other direction.

‘Where are we going?’ Over the cliff?

‘I want to show you something.’ A pair of sunglasses obscured the expression in his eyes as he turned onto a narrow dusty road and parked by an old abandoned monastery. Wildflowers clustered in the long grass and a bright gre

en lizard clung to a rock, basking in the hot sun. ‘We have to walk from here. The streets are too narrow for modern transport.’

Jessie released her seat belt, her eyes on the lizard. ‘What did they use as transport when they built the place?’

‘Donkeys.’

Jessie smiled, finding it surprisingly easy to imagine a docile donkey plodding through this sleepy village. ‘It’s very pretty. And quiet.’

‘A large proportion of the population have moved away.’ Silvio took her hand and led her through a maze of streets, stopping in front of an old house. The shutters were closed, the paintwork was tired and it was obvious that no one lived there.

Sensing that it had some significance, Jessie looked at him. ‘Is this what you wanted to show me?’

‘I was born in this house.’

‘You lived here? In this little village?’ Jessie realised she’d never given any thought to where he’d lived the first years of his life, but perhaps that was because her own horizons had been so limited. She sensed that bringing her here was a huge thing for him and she was desperate not to say the wrong thing. ‘When did you move away? You never told me anything about your early childhood. Johnny told me your father was violent—’ She broke off, wishing she hadn’t mentioned that, but he scooped her face into his hands and kissed her gently.

‘There is nothing you cannot say to me, tesoro,’ he said huskily, his mouth lingering on hers. ‘Nothing.’

For a man who was so incredibly private, it was a huge concession and Jessie felt a slow, delicious warmth spread through her body. He trusted her. ‘Is your father still alive?’