Seducing His Enemy's Daughter

‘Which is why you didn’t tell me about this sooner.’ Now the pieces fell into place. This explained Ella’s willingness to play along with the wedding scheme, albeit under sufferance. ‘He was holding it over your head.’

Ella shifted, trying to roll off him, but Donato held her close. Skin to skin, eye to eye, this was his chance to discover all he needed to know.

‘At first I thought it didn’t matter. I thought you were like him.’

Donato grimaced at the idea and Ella brushed her fingers across his mouth in a caress that made his heart leap.

‘But you’re not, are you?’

Before he could think of a response she went on. ‘It’s been eating at me. I’ve seen another side to you. The way you are with me, the things you do for other people.’

Donato frowned, wondering what she’d found out. Mostly he kept his charitable activities out of the limelight.

‘I felt guilty, not telling you what he’s really like. Today, when you told me about your mother...’ Her mouth turned down. ‘How could I ask you to share that and not warn you?’

‘So this is quid pro quo?’ His grating tone hid confusion. He’d been unsettled all day. Unsettled by Ella’s sympathy and how, despite what he said, it warmed the dark places in his soul.

Ella stiffened, her chin jutting at a familiar angle. ‘If you like.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ He ran the backs of his fingers down her peach-soft cheek. ‘I appreciate you telling me. But it makes no difference. I knew already.’

He knew more about her father than he suspected Ella did. For the first time it hit him that revealing the enormity of Sanderson’s crimes would have repercussions for Ella. How would she react?

‘You’re still going to do business with him?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Familiar satisfaction stirred. ‘But with one change.’ He palmed her hair from her face, feeling an unaccustomed protectiveness at the idea of Ella growing up under Sanderson’s roof. He thought of her prickly defensiveness, her difficulty in believing she was attractive and knew he could lay that and more at Sanderson’s door.

‘What change?’ Her eyes were wary, and why not? She’d been an unwilling pawn in his tactics.

Donato rolled over till she was beneath him, all that delicious femininity and warm silky skin.

‘I’ll make sure your brother gets his money.’

Watching the light in Ella’s eyes was like watching dawn break over the ocean, except the warmth he felt was far more than skin-deep. She made him feel like a different man. A man who might believe in things he’d learned never to expect.

He felt her jolt of surprise. ‘You will? But it’s not your responsibility.’ A smile hovered on her mouth but didn’t quite settle, as if she feared to believe. It struck him how much stress she’d been under. From her father, and from him.

Something heavy dragged at his gut. Regret? Guilt?

‘I’m making it my responsibility.’

Her smile broke wide then and its brilliance set off little tremors inside. Of pleasure, and relief.

See? He could make things okay for her. He could make her happy and still get the revenge he needed from her father.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Don’t say anything.’

‘Thank you, Donato.’ Her hands cupped his jaw, her gaze met his. ‘That means so much.’

‘Good. Perhaps you can show me how much.’ He basked in her approval, thrusting aside the knowledge he’d used Ella for his own ends. That she deserved to know the whole truth. He’d make it up to her. As for the truth, that would come soon enough. Probably too soon for Ella and her siblings.

He swept his hand down the sleek curve of her spine, desperation rising as he deliberately pushed aside the hovering shadow cast by his conscience.

It was far easier to lose himself in passion than to analyse these new troubling feelings.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ELLA REREAD THE NOTE, not recognising her father’s writing. He’d never written her birthday or Christmas cards, yet the slashing scribble could only be his.

Urgent...designer insists you meet for a fitting but has sent this...only agreeing to work because of Salazar’s high profile...demand you be there Friday three p.m...everything rides on this...no time for selfish games...

The missive turned into a tirade and her empty stomach churned. She screwed up the paper and let it fall. Thanks to Donato’s intervention she’d had no contact with her father for weeks and had almost forgotten how he made her feel. Now her flesh crawled as if someone had dropped a bucket of spiders onto her back.