Seducing His Enemy's Daughter

Fear. Not fear for his physical safety as he’d felt in prison, but fear like he’d known as a child. Fear that he’d lost the one person in the world who truly mattered.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Four months later

THE DELIVERY CAME out of the blue. No note. No return address. The label was typed, impersonal.

But Donato knew.

It was from Ella. He sensed it.

Or was he kidding himself again? He’d put off leaving the Sydney house, even though he didn’t have the stomach for a new project here. But he hadn’t relocated back to Melbourne. Nor had he discovered anything to capture his interest.

Business didn’t satisfy. Nor did any of the outdoor sports he usually revelled in.

His staff thought he was ill. But there was no medicine that could fix what ailed him.

More than once he’d picked up the phone to hire an investigator and locate Ella. It would be simple. He knew what part of Sydney she lived and worked in.

But then he’d remember her disapproval of such invasive tactics. He’d given his word he wouldn’t do that to her. That promise chafed him now, when he needed so desperately to see her.

If she wanted to contact him she’d call. She had his numbers, and his address. After what he’d done it had to be her choice.

Her silence showed what choice she’d made.

Donato wrestled with the protective padding inside the delivery box and swore as he cut himself. He stopped and drew a breath. His hands were shaking. All because he imagined this was from her!

Maldición! What had he come to?

He grimaced and ripped the padding away. He stared. Pain banded his chest as he dragged in oxygen, then held it, shock making him forget to breathe.

Before him stood an ebony and walnut side table, subtly modern in its simplicity. Yet it gleamed with the patina only age and loving care could create.

Donato reached out to stroke the top, then the curve of one leg. The old wood was like satin. He shut his eyes and remembered the lush feel of that white bridal gown beneath his fingers and, even more exquisite, the softness of Ella’s bare skin.

Had she worked on this table herself, polishing where he touched? Or had she sent it to a professional to restore? Opening his eyes, he peered at the inlaid top. There was no sign of the damage that had marred the table when Ella found it. He remembered it vividly, the day in the Blue Mountains she’d taken him antiques shopping. She’d been so happy, her eyes dancing with excitement. Her pleasure had been catching.

Donato’s hand fell. He wanted that again. Ella happy. Ella with him. He needed it.

Revenge on Sanderson had turned to ashes in his mouth when he’d lost her. Sanderson was bankrupt, his reputation in tatters, and the police were investigating him, not for his role in people trafficking, but for fraud. But instead of completing Donato, his quest for justice and retribution made him realise how empty he was without her.

Yet he hesitated.

He didn’t know if this gift was a sign she’d forgiven him or a farewell. Maybe she couldn’t bear to see it and remember she’d been with him when she found it.

Nerves swarmed in his belly and his shoulders hunched tight.

Eyes on Ella’s gift, he reached for the phone.

* * *

‘Don’t fidget or you’ll spoil this make-up.’ Fuzz tsked but didn’t really sound annoyed. Ella had never seen her so happy.

Even tonight, before the lavish party to celebrate the opening of the tropical resort, Fuzz was relaxed, sure everything would work out. She wore a permanent smile and, for the first time, seemed utterly content. There were lots of reasons for that—having a purpose and an outlet for her creative talent, getting away from their father’s influence. But, most of all, Ella put the change down to love.

She swallowed as her throat tightened. She was not jealous of her sister’s happiness.

‘I don’t see why I need make-up. Or a new dress.’ She fingered the dusky pink chiffon, delicate as fairy wings, fluttering around her legs as her sister fussed over Ella’s hair and make-up.

‘Because it’s time to party.’ Fuzz stood back, surveying her handiwork. ‘I want you to look gorgeous.’

Ella snorted. ‘Fat chance.’ The closest she’d come to that had been in the ill-fated wedding dress. Instantly she clamped her mind shut against the memory.

That was over. It was time to move on. She couldn’t hate Donato for bringing down her father. She’d tried for years to love Reg Sanderson but had never been able to. The news of his criminal past had been the final straw and she’d severed all ties. Bankrupt and bereft of friends, he’d slunk away from Sydney, she didn’t know or care where.