Seducing His Enemy's Daughter

‘You used me!’ She shot the words at him as she stalked forward. ‘You made me a laughing stock.’ And she’d let him. He’d barely had to make a move—she’d been so busy walking into his trap, falling for a man who saw her as a convenient tool. It wasn’t the public humiliation that hurt, but the very private disappointment. She’d hoped—

Ella’s stomach cramped and she slammed to a swaying halt as pain unravelled inside. Her eyes blurred as she realised how much she’d trusted him.

‘Ella—’

‘What was the plan, Donato?’ Anger simmered like hot oil under her skin. ‘To leave me at the altar? Would that have made you smile?’

‘No!’ He looked genuinely stunned. ‘You weren’t going to marry me. You always insisted you wouldn’t.’

Ella drew a shuddery breath. The horror on Donato’s face smashed the last of her stupid hopes.

See, that’s what he really thinks of us as a couple.

The trouble was she’d begun to believe her own far-fetched dreams. She looked down at the bright glitter on the long gown. Not diamonds, of course, but cheap imitations.

‘That doesn’t excuse the fact you used me, Donato. Just as you planned to use Felicity.’ Her voice shook and she snapped her mouth shut while she gathered herself. ‘Whatever grudge you have against my father, did we really deserve that?’

She wanted to rage and howl. She wanted to demand he stop this pretence and become again the man she’d fallen in love with. The man who cared for her.

Except that had been a sham. An ache started in her chest, thrumming stronger with each pulse beat.

‘I didn’t want to hurt you, Ella.’ Donato stood stiffly, his hands by his sides, keeping his distance. ‘You know that. I was going to find a way to make it up to you.’

‘And how, pray tell, were you going to do that?’ Ella stood tall, every sinew and muscle taut with distress. ‘With cash? Is that why you’re paying back Rob’s money? For services rendered?’ The words stuck in her throat and for a frantic moment she thought they’d choke her.

‘Ella.’ Finally, finally, Donato moved towards her. But it was too late. She’d come to her senses. She shoved out her hand, stopping him.

‘Why do you hate him so much? This isn’t business...this is...’

‘Retribution.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Retribution, for what he did to my mother.’

Ella gasped. ‘You attacked the man who killed your mother. You’re not saying—?’

‘That Reg Sanderson had a hand in that?’ Donato shook his head, his expression as grim as she’d ever seen it. ‘No. Though he might just as well have.’

‘I don’t understand. Did my father know your mother?’ Ella frowned. Was this some misunderstanding? Except Donato didn’t make mistakes. Not when it mattered.

‘Why don’t you sit, Ella?’ He moved as if to usher her to a chair.

‘Just tell me, Donato!’

He sighed, his hand spearing through his hair. He didn’t look like a man celebrating the success of his schemes. He looked like a man strung too taut.

‘I doubt he ever met her. To him she was just merchandise.’

Something cold and hard slammed through Ella as Donato’s words struck home. She had a bad, bad feeling.

‘Go on.’

Donato turned towards the window. What did he see? The gorgeous gardens or something else?

‘She didn’t choose to be a prostitute, you know. She came to Australia thinking she’d be working as a chambermaid in a big hotel. The plan was to send money back to her family.’

Ella frowned. ‘Your mother migrated here?’ No wonder Salazar spoke Spanish fluently.

He laughed, the sound short and unamused. ‘Not legally. She believed an immigration agent had sorted it before she left. She actually paid for the privilege. But that turned out to be a lie. She was trafficked into a brothel, brought in as a virtual slave.’

Ella put out a groping hand for support. Finding nothing she took a stumbling step to an armchair and leaned against it.

‘A slave?’ She’d read about such things but still it didn’t seem real.

Donato’s face, as stiff as cast bronze, convinced her. ‘They took her passport, said she had to work for them to pay off her debt in coming to Australia.’

‘Who were they?’

Eyes of polished stone met hers. ‘Ah, that’s the question. There was the man who ran the brothel, and his enforcers, but there were others behind the scheme. Others who made a fortune, exploiting women like my mother.’