Rival's Challenge

Orla felt her way. ‘A fight?’

Antonio nodded curtly. ‘About my brother Nicolo. He’d been badly scarred in a fire when he was thirteen. I was worried about him because he’d gone from being a hellraiser to living as a recluse. I knew that he’d never really come to terms with what had happened but he didn’t want to hear it from me.’

Orla’s chest grew tight at the thought of Antonio as a young man trying his best to be a parent to his brothers and sisters. She wanted to ask him more but just then their waiter came and took plates away and Orla was shocked to see that she’d practically shared the bottle of wine with Antonio in the end.

She was also more than a little stunned by that last conversation. They’d deviated way off the tracks. So much for her keeping things cool and businesslike. She’d been all but hanging off his every word like some lovesick teenager. Quickly she asked for coffee, wanting to clear her head a little. Antonio Chatsfield was proving to be far more interesting and deep than she would have ever given him credit for.

When their coffees had been delivered, Orla was determined to bring things back onto more familiar ground. ‘So why come back now to do this? Be part of a takeover bid?’

Antonio’s eyes flashed. ‘I thought we were going to avoid contentious subjects?’

Orla lifted her chin.

Mock-sadly, Antonio replied to her silence. ‘The truce was nice while it lasted.’

He took a sip of coffee and then put his cup down. ‘I came home to do this now for my sister Lucilla. When I left home, she shouldered the burden of caring for our siblings and also running the business. She’s asked me to look after this one thing for her … so I am.’

He speared Orla with a dark look. ‘If you’re trying to figure out how soon I’ll be gone again, Orla, don’t waste your time. You have my undivided attention until we become the new owners of the Kennedy Group. And it will happen … sooner or later.’

Orla’s hand tightened on her coffee cup so much that she had to relax for fear of breaking it. She couldn’t escape that compelling gaze. There was steel in Antonio’s tone.

The depth of his loyalty to his sister was tangible and after what he’d just told her she could well imagine how strong a bond had been forged after their mother had left. She was up against blood ties, blood loyalty. And yet, so was he. She had just as much riding on this deal as he had for the sake of her family.

Suddenly feeling as sober as a judge despite the wine, and also disturbingly exposed to hear Antonio lay out his loyalty to his sister so starkly, Orla forced herself to finish her coffee and wiped her mouth.

She injected as much lightness into her voice as she could muster. ‘I think I’ll retire. It’s been a long day and we have a convention arriving tomorrow, early.’

Antonio smiled and it looked like a shark’s smile in the soft light. No less threatening. Orla felt cold. She couldn’t believe she’d been intimate with this man only a few nights ago.

‘I’ll see you up to your room.’

Orla opened her mouth and saw the stern set of Antonio’s mouth and jaw. It was futile to argue.

‘Fine,’ she replied tightly, ‘knock yourself out.’

They stood up and Antonio let Orla precede him out of the booth. He noted that her cheeks were flushed. From the wine? Or from the desire-saturated air that swirled around them? Or from the realisation that she was fighting a losing battle to keep control of her family business?

To his surprise, Antonio felt a pang at that. He couldn’t help but acknowledge how hard Orla worked. He’d observed her over the past couple of days when she’d been unaware. She’d been tireless. Up at dawn, to bed late at night. Unfailingly polite and warm to guests and staff alike. In fact, it was a kind of dedication and service that he knew was lacking in their hotel business, mainly because of its size and success.

The Kennedy Group clearly still had that very personal touch. And Antonio had to admit that it had to do with the fabled Irish charm too. He’d watched Orla switch it on, exactly as she had with that waiter earlier. And it was completely sincere. The guests loved it. And the staff were steadfastly loyal. He’d been given the gimlet eye by more than a few as he’d made his rounds, checking things out.

Orla walked in front of him through the restaurant now, hips swaying in her silk dress. The back of her neck looked intensely vulnerable with her hair up and he had to fight the urge to tug it down so that it feathered across her shoulders as it had done the other night. Which felt like an aeon ago. When they’d been different people. Strangers. Lovers.

The lobby area was quiet. Orla went to the reception desk to check in with the staff before calling out goodnight as she made her way to where Antonio waited at the lifts. He was propped against the wall, hands in his pockets.

He could see as she approached that she got tenser. Her shoulders a stiff line. He pressed the button for the lift and the doors opened smoothly. Stepping in, he looked at her questioningly, and after a taut moment, a silent battle of wills, she said, ‘Floor five. Please.’

The doors slid shut again and she obviously noted that he didn’t push the button for his own floor. She looked very petite in the small space and Antonio was automatically thinking of how she’d exposed herself to him that night. And then afterwards … how tight she’d been. How responsive. Desire surged and he hoped she wouldn’t glance down right now.

As if she was battling with the same carnal memories, she blurted out, ‘You don’t have to walk me all the way to my door. We’re not in a dodgy street, for heaven’s sake.’

Antonio just stared at her and couldn’t control the intense flare of heat in his groin. Her hair was so bright against this backdrop, vivid red. Her skin so pale. Eyes so blue. He wanted her with a hunger he’d never experienced before. Not even after months of celibacy in the army; he hadn’t indulged while he’d been on active service, preferring to wait until he was on leave. As a result of that Antonio prided hims

elf on his ability to maintain control … not any more.

Forcing himself to not sound as desperate for her as he felt, he drawled, ‘I insist. I want to prove to you that I can be a gentleman, Orla.’

He almost felt sorry for her when she said far too fervently, ‘I believe you. Really.’