Claimed For The Italian's Revenge

Marco would make sure that marriage never happened.

A movement from the hotel’s entrance caught his eye.

It was Claudia.

A sudden surge of unexpected emotion powered through him and his heart started to thud. Even though he’d been waiting for her, actually seeing her in the flesh hit him like a punch to the solar plexus.

He jerked into motion, falling into step behind her as she set off along Picadilly. She walked swiftly, weaving her way with single-minded determination through the crowds of Christmas shoppers filling the London street.

She looked every bit the sophisticated city woman, wearing a sleek chocolate-brown suede coat over tailored trousers and high-heeled boots. But in his mind’s eye he suddenly saw her dressed in the faded T-shirt and old jeans she had worn the last day they’d spent together, trekking along the Pembrokeshire Coast Path.

He pictured her lying on the springy grass on the cliff top, the scent of wild thyme mingling with the sea breeze as he’d leant forward to kiss her. It had been an amazing day, for both of them he had thought, until he’d discovered it was all a smokescreen. She’d been deceiving him in the worst possible way—for the worst possible reasons.

‘Claudia.’ His voice caught in his throat and a strange sensation burned through him—a combination of the betrayal he’d felt when he’d discovered what she had done and the memory of the red hot passion they’d once shared. ‘Claudia, is that you?’ he asked, reaching out to lay his hand on her shoulder.

He felt her jump as his hand made contact, as if an electric shock had run through her.

‘Marco.’ His name formed soundlessly on her lips as she turned to face him, an expression of profound shock on her fine features.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. In the thin colourless light of the winter afternoon her skin glowed with almost ethereal paleness, but there was something achingly fragile about her that he didn’t recall. His eyes roamed over her, trying to detect even the smallest changes in her appearance.

There were dark smudges under her eyes and her cheekbones seemed more pronounced than before. But maybe it was simply knowing what he had planned for her that made her seem vulnerable to him.

Despite her elegant London grooming, she looked slightly dishevelled. Her gorgeous copper toned hair was caught up inside her collar, as if she’d thrown her coat on hurriedly, and his fingers longed to slip under its silken weight and ease it free.

Then, as she lifted her gaze to meet his, he found himself looking down into her golden brown eyes.

‘Marco.’ Claudia repeated his name out loud this time, hardly able to believe it as she stared up at his face. Her heart was racing and it was impossible to think straight.

It truly was him—Marco De Luca.

He had filled her thoughts for four long years and now he was really here, transported out of her dreams on to the London pavement beside her—except everything about the flesh and blood man was more vivid than the memory.

‘I thought it was you,’ he said. His voice tingled down her spine, deliciously deep and sexy, setting her quivering inside. ‘I saw you walking.’

Claudia opened her lips and tried to speak again, but all she could think was how badly she’d missed him. He’d hurt her terribly when he’d dumped her four years ago, but he’d been in her thoughts every day since then. And now he was here, completely out of the blue, on what had seemed like the worst day of her life so far.

‘Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ Curiosity glittered in his dark eyes as he looked down at her startled face. ‘Have I caught you at a bad time? You appeared to be hurrying somewhere.’

All of a sudden, a wave of anger rose up and crashed through Claudia’s initial shock at seeing him again. She drew in a deep breath, finding her voice at last.

‘A bad time?’ she demanded incredulously. He had broken her heart when he’d left her, but she’d never discovered the reason why he’d finished their relationship so abruptly. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell her he was leaving. ‘When would be a good time to run into an ex-lover—a man who dumped you without even bothering to tell you it was over?’

‘Well…when you put it like that…’ Marco paused, his wide expressive lips curling into a smile that took her breath away and swept through the ache that had filled her heart since the day he’d disappeared from her life.

‘How would you put it?’ she challenged him. ‘Considering you walked out on me four years ago, without even telling me you were going.’

‘I’d say how wonderful to see you, despite everything,’ Marco said, holding her transfixed with his dark gaze. ‘And what a fantastic opportunity to put things right between us.’

Claudia drew in a breath and tried to speak. She wanted to say that she wasn’t naive enough to fall for his charming ways a second time. But she was caught by the power of his gaze. A sizzling, sensual energy was flowing between them, just as it always had. She felt it in every cell of her body. Every inch of her skin longed to be close to him. It was impossible to ignore.

‘Then I’d say you’re four years too late.’

Her voice sounded steady, but her body and mind were a churning mass of conflicting feelings. She took a hasty step away from him—as if putting a little distance between them would help her get a grip.

Making a sudden sideways move on the busy street was foolhardy and she felt someone crash heavily into her back almost immediately.

‘Sorry!’ A stocky man in a dark overcoat grunted as he put out his hands to steady himself.

‘No…sorry…my fault,’ Claudia gasped, trying to catch her breath. Then Marco’s arms closed around her as he pulled her out of the flow of pedestrians into a shop doorway.

She stared up at him, thinking that he was still the most amazingly good-looking man she’d ever seen. From the moment they’d met, her attraction to him outstripped anything she’d ever experienced before.

When he’d turned his fathomless espresso coloured eyes on to her, it was as if she were the only woman in the world. She’d felt beautiful and special.

But she’d been a fool to let herself think that—things between them hadn’t been what they’d seemed. He wasn’t her soul mate. In fact, he’d shown just how little he cared for her when he’d discarded her so heartlessly.

‘You seem out of place here, in all this hustle and bustle,’ he said, tugging her closer to him as a group of people pressed past them into the London store they were sheltering beside. ‘I’d rather be with you somewhere quieter—more private,’ he added, tightening his hold on her.

Claudia looked at him, her heart beating erratically. He was holding her so close that she couldn’t think clearly.

Secure in the powerful circle of his arms, her senses were going into overload. She could feel the warm strength of him, even through her winter coat, and her legs were brushing against his, sending little darts of awareness shooting through her.

The chemistry between them had always been incredible, but now she knew that chemistry was all it had ever been. If she’d known their affair had been meaningless to him—a casual fling that he could easily cast aside—she would never have got so deeply involved. She’d never have told him her secrets.

And she would never have fallen in love with him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Marco said. ‘I’ve unsettled you by turning up like this.’

He moved to the side, breaking the contact between them to let another group of Christmas shoppers past. When he let go of her it felt like a rejection.

‘It’s not turning up unexpectedly that you should be apologising for,’ Claudia said, the sting of losing physical contact with him making her voice sharper than she’d intended. ‘What about the way you left me in the middle of the night, without bothering to tell me why? You didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face that it was over between us!’

‘I do owe you an explanation,’ Marco said. ‘Let’s go somewhere and talk.’ His dark gaze slid down her in a way that made her think he wanted to do more than talk.

For a split second Claudia wondered what had made him call out her name when he’d spotted her in the street. He could easily have watched her walk away and she would have been none the wiser that they had passed by so close to each other. But now, the way his eyes were burning right through her clothes gave her an answer that made the pieces of her broken heart weep.

It was still just about sex.

And, shockingly, the look in his eyes told her that he wanted to pick up where they’d left off.

‘It’s too late for that,’ she replied stonily, folding her arms resolutely across her chest.

Then suddenly the horrible realisation that she’d spoken the truth in more ways than one slammed into her like a lead weight. It was only a matter of days until she would have to marry Primo Vasile.

She slumped back against the shop window, hardly aware of the constant stream of shoppers brushing past her. Even if she was foolish enough to want to hear Marco’s explanation, it made no difference what he had to say for himself. Because, even if her wildest dreams had come true and Marco had genuinely been in love with her, she could never be with him again.

Because she was committed to Vasile now. And if she didn’t go through with her wedding to him, he would report her father’s crime to the police.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Marco said, stepping close so that his broad shoulders shielded her from the crowd of people that had built up in the bottleneck of the shop doorway. Then he slipped his arm around her waist to guide her out into the street.

A shiver ran through her as he pulled her tight to his body and she drew in a shaky breath. For a moment the sheer pleasure of being held close to him took over, mercifully blotting everything else out.

But she wasn’t in love with him any more. She couldn’t be. No sensible, self-respecting woman would love a man after he’d dumped her so decisively. But the intervening time—and common sense—had done nothing to dull her physical awareness of him.

‘Let me go.’ She stopped suddenly, slipping out of his grip before he could react. Then she turned to look him straight in the eye. ‘I don’t want to hear what you have to say—it won’t change anything.’

That was the simple truth—and the sooner she faced up to it the better. Whatever he said wouldn’t change the fact that he had callously discarded her four years ago. And it wouldn’t change the fact that she had to marry Primo Vasile.

‘Then let’s not talk about the past,’ Marco said.

He stared down at Claudia’s deceptively innocent face.

He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t want to discuss the night he’d left her in Wales—her reluctance to talk about it was further proof of her guilt. Another nail in her coffin.

It was obvious that he’d discovered she was in league with Primo Vasile. That she’d callously set Bianca up, then purposefully taken Marco out of the country to ensure his sister was alone and vulnerable.

His blood ran cold as he remembered the phone call he’d received from Ricardo that night in Wales. It had been a monumental stroke of luck that Marco’s friend had come across Vasile and Bianca before something truly awful had happened.

‘Let’s not talk at all,’ Claudia said, turning to walk away from him.

‘Wait.’

A bolt of fury shot through him. He wasn’t finished with her yet—how dared she walk away from him? He reached out and caught her arm, spinning her round so that they were face to face once more. He stared down at her and a strange feeling hit him in the chest.

Suddenly, it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

He remembered only too well the afternoon that Bianca had introduced them. The minute he’d laid eyes on her at that high-society Turin wedding, he’d felt his blood quicken with desire. Dressed simply, with her long hair falling in natural waves around her shoulders and her pale English skin glowing in the Piedmont sunshine, she was a rare beauty. So refreshingly different from the chic Italian women he knew.

He had taken her slim hand in his and gazed down into her incredible eyes, experiencing an exquisite rush of pleasure as he’d anticipated getting to know her.

Then Bianca had told him her name.

Claudia Hazelton.

Like an unexpected icy wind scouring his skin, he had known at once who she was. Had known that eight years earlier her family had destroyed his.

But, as he’d started to talk to her, he’d been impressed by her openness and simple charm. He’d resolved not to judge her, based on a family background she’d had no control over, and he’d suppressed his natural suspicions of her, taking the time to get to know her.

It hadn’t been long until they had fallen into bed, where he’d discovered to his great pleasure that she was a virgin. As the days had gone by, Marco had increasingly let down his guard, distracted by the extraordinary delights of spending time with her—making love and simply being together.

It was his sister who had paid the price.

Looking at Claudia now, standing on the busy London street, he knew that he’d never be fooled by her beauty or her charm again.

Her delicate face shone like an angel’s in the dark and her gorgeous copper hair, still caught inside the collar of her brown suede coat, was picking up rich multicoloured reflections from the Christmas lights.

She looked like an angel—but she was poison.

And she would pay for what she had done.

He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, sensing a ripple of sensual awareness pass through her. That was the only thing between them that had been true—there was no way she could have faked her physical response to him.

Marco was going to taste the delights of her body one last time. But this time it would be on his terms. He knew now exactly what kind of woman she was and what she was capable of. And he would enjoy taking his revenge on her.

He let his fingers trail down the side of her neck, then slipped his hand underneath her hair. It was cool and heavy against the back of his hand, but her skin was hot under his palm. He felt her start trembling and a surge of potent desire powered through his body.

‘I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you,’ he murmured, tipping his head to one side and leaning slightly closer.

Claudia stared up at him, almost mesmerised by the intensity of the expression on his face. He’d been gazing down at her for the longest moment and now she knew he was going to kiss her. She was sure of it.

The sultry tone of his voice had set her senses buzzing and her nerve-endings were already zinging where his hand touched her neck. But she knew she could not—must not—let him kiss her.

Then suddenly she felt him gently tugging her long hair, pushing the back of his hand against it and slowly pulling it free from where it was caught inside her coat.

It wasn’t what she’d been expecting, yet somehow it felt intensely erotic. It was almost as if he were undressing her, teasing her body slowly out of a close-fitting, sexy garment. As the last strands of hair slipped free of her collar an uncontrollable shudder rippled through her. She couldn’t mask her response. He’d seen it and felt it. All she could do was continue to gaze at him.

The moment stretched on but she couldn’t break eye contact.

‘The chemistry between us is still as hot as ever.’ Marco spoke quietly, but his voice tingled across her body like a sensual caress.

Claudia could see the desire burning in his eyes and she felt her stomach tighten with the thrill of sexual anticipation.

Then, out of nowhere, a bubble of panic started to rise within her.

Suddenly nothing felt real. She couldn’t believe that she was really standing there with Marco. She’d thought about him so many times over the last four years, desperately wishing things could have been different—wishing she could be with him.

But he had dumped her. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces and it had felt as if her life was over when he’d left. She’d be crazy to get involved with him again.

Besides, she didn’t have only herself to think about now. Now there was her marriage to Primo Vasile. That didn’t seem real either—it was more like a terrible nightmare—but she knew she had to go through with it. She couldn’t do anything that might make Vasile take the incriminating information he had about her father to the police.

She would never forgive herself if her father was forced to face the humiliation of a criminal investigation and imprisonment. Not if there was anything—anything at all—that she could have done to prevent it.

‘You’re wrong. There’s nothing between us,’ Claudia said, pulling back, out of Marco’s hold. ‘I never want to see you again.’

Without giving him a chance to reply, she turned and fled.

Marco watched impassively as she ran away from him, quickly disappearing into the crowds of Christmas shoppers.

A slow smile spread across his cold face. That was quite a dramatic departure—he hadn’t expected to have her running scared quite so soon. But it was of no matter.

She could run, but she couldn’t hide from him.

CHAPTER TWO

CLAUDIA ran until she could run no more. Then she kept on walking, trying not to dwell on the complicated mess her life had suddenly become. Soon she’d have to face up to it—she had to travel to the Caribbean to marry Primo Vasile. But now, for just a couple of minutes, she needed to blot it out of her mind.

She wouldn’t think about the appalling scene at the Ritz, when Vasile and her stepmother had blackmailed her. And she definitely wouldn’t think about her encounter with Marco De Luca. It was far too distressing.

Instead, she found herself heading automatically towards the offices of the magazine she worked for, writing reviews of new digital cameras. She’d always intended to pop into work that evening to pick up a new model she was testing—and there was no reason to change her plan. She needed to cling on to normality—that way everything else didn’t seem so bad.

That was how she had got through the last few months when her father, Hector, had become terribly ill. She’d visited him in Italy as much as she could, taking long weekends and using flexitime, then eventually she’d persuaded her boss to let her work from home for a while. But all the time she had been working hard, taking pride in her professionalism, she’d secretly known at the back of her mind that she was simply making a futile effort to keep life the way it was.

She’d been devastated by Hector’s illness. He was her only living relative and she loved him dearly. She’d already lost her mother when she was just five years old, her beloved grandmother who had been so important to her throughout her childhood. Now her father was leaving her.

It seemed that everyone she loved eventually left her.

Even the only man she had ever loved, Marco De Luca, had left her.

Suddenly, the sound of someone calling her name caught her attention. It was her friend, Rosie, from work.

‘What are you doing here so late?’ her friend asked curiously. She was just leaving the building where the magazine had its offices.

‘I came to collect a camera.’ Claudia smiled warmly at her friend, despite the way she was feeling inside. ‘What about you?’

‘I’ve got a date later on and there wasn’t any point going home first,’ Rosie said. ‘We’re going ice-skating. Have you met my boyfriend, Rob?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Claudia said, noticing that Rosie was following her back into the building. Although a large part of her wanted to be left alone right then, she knew instinctively that a little distracting company wouldn’t hurt. ‘Is he the tall, gorgeous one?’ she asked, thinking of another man that description could equally well apply to.

‘Yes.’ Rosie grinned. ‘Walk with me to Somerset House and I’ll introduce you.’

‘I’d love to,’ Claudia said, ‘but I don’t think I’d be very good company this evening. I’m feeling really tired.’

‘Come on,’ Rosie said. ‘You don’t have to stay—actually, I’d prefer to keep him all to myself—but I just want to show him off!’

‘All right—’ Claudia laughed ‘—I promise I’ll just admire him, then I’ll take myself home and leave you two together.’

They walked down to The Strand, where an ice rink had been set up in the courtyard of the magnificent eighteenth century building of Somerset House. A giant Christmas tree was illuminated at one end of the rink and the ice was glittering under the sparkling coloured lights.

It wasn’t long before Rosie’s boyfriend arrived, then a few minutes later Claudia waved goodbye as they joined the queue for the next skating session.

She stood beside the railings for a moment, watching the skaters circling the rink. It was a beautiful scene, full of happy couples and families skating together.

Suddenly a wave of sadness washed over her. She felt more alone than ever before.

‘You know where everything is,’ Gwen said, handing Claudia the key to the old fisherman’s cottage. ‘Stay as long as you want—there’s no one booked in till the New Year.’

‘Thanks, Gwen,’ Claudia said, leaning forward to kiss the eighty-year-old Welsh lady affectionately on the cheek. She was an old friend of her grandmother’s, but she was still as sprightly as someone ten, or even twenty, years younger. ‘I can only stay a night or two, but I just had to get out of the city for a little while.’

‘Should I call Rhys to give you a lift down the hill?’ Gwen asked in her wonderful accent.

‘No thanks. My bag isn’t heavy,’ Claudia said, turning to leave. She didn’t want to bother Gwen’s son, Rhys. He must be close to retirement age, but she’d seen him busy working in his vegetable garden as she’d walked from the bus stop. ‘After the train and bus, I could do with some fresh air.’

‘Plenty of that here,’ Gwen laughed as she wrapped her woolly cardigan tightly around herself and closed her front door.

Claudia hefted her bag on her shoulder and set off along the winding road that led down to the cottage. She’d been coming to this part of Wales all her life and it was like a second home to her. In fact, until her grandmother died when she was thirteen, it had felt more like her home than the pristine town house she’d lived in with her father and Francesca.

Gwen had been her grandmother’s friend and neighbour for sixty years. After her grandmother died, Gwen had extended a permanent invitation for Claudia to visit whenever she wanted. Gwen and her son Rhys owned a little cottage that they rented out to holidaymakers for a bit of extra income, but whenever it wasn’t booked Claudia was welcome to stay in it.

It was mid-afternoon by the time she got to the cottage and, as she wanted to fit in an hour’s work before it got dark, she grabbed her camera and headed straight down to the sea.

It was good to be back in Wales. It was the one place in the world where she felt a strong connection with her mother. Maybe here, far away from all her troubles, she might find some much needed peace of mind—if only for a day or two before she gave herself over to Francesca and Vasile’s unthinkable scheme.

It was at this cottage that Marco had left her four years ago, and she’d briefly wondered whether it was wise to come here and risk stirring up memories. But it was already too late—meeting Marco yesterday had seen to that. Besides, she’d been to the cottage lots of times since he’d left, and right now the blustery conditions couldn’t have been more different from the glorious summer weather they had enjoyed when she’d brought Marco to her mother’s home village.

The water foamed around the slick black boulders as she carefully picked her way out across the rocky beach towards the incoming tide. The water was already filling the deeper recesses between the rocks and she had to tread carefully so as not to slip. She knew there was still plenty of time to make it out to her favourite vantage point—a particularly giant rocky mound that stood higher than the surrounding beach.