Surrendering To The Italian's Command

At least this woman didn’t laugh at him the way Nat had or doubt his qualifications when it came to relationship advice. What Natalia didn’t understand was that actually he was perfectly qualified, because for a long time he’d been the man that brothers warned their sisters not to date.

This woman just looked at him blankly, eyes wide, as though he were speaking a foreign language. He allowed himself the luxury of cursing softly in his native tongue, relieved when he saw comprehension spread across her face.

‘No, he is...never...not...’

Through the rushing sound in her ears Tess could hear her own voice, then there was just the rushing.

Guilt and alarm grabbed at Danilo and he swore again, low and fluently under this breath, as he placed a steadying hand across her shoulders. She sagged like a rag doll and he wrapped his other arm around her middle. It was then he realised several things: she was shaking and, despite her petite appearance underneath the massive coat, she had curves. Only one fact was relevant.

‘You’re not going to faint.’

He said it in a way that at any other time would have made her laugh. Macho men who thought just saying something made it so always made her laugh. They generally didn’t know why she was laughing—alpha males so often had no sense of humour.

She didn’t laugh now though. Instead she leaned against the hand that was now pressed between her shoulder blades and hoped like hell he was right.

‘I’ll be fine.’ The world was swimming back into focus and, yes, he was still as impossibly good-looking.

It didn’t seem a very realistic statement, considering the unhealthy sheen of perspiration on her pale skin, but he approved of positive thinking, especially when the option was having an unconscious female on his hands.

‘Breathe deeply, in and out...no, not too deeply.’ He steadied her violent sway and left his arm around her waist while he pulled out his phone. He wondered if his plan to fly directly back to Rome was still realistic. ‘That’s better...’

She’d thought his eyes were brown, and they were incredibly dark, but now as he captured and held her gaze she realised they were midnight blue, like the night sky, and flecked with tiny points of silver that glittered like stars. From nowhere the phrase soul stripping came into her head, though actually clinical was more accurate.

She moistened her dry, cracked lips with her tongue and nodded. ‘I’m fine now.’

She looked a million miles from fine. ‘My car is coming. Where do you live?’

Tess, her heart still pounding though now with relief and not terror, heard herself recite her address like some obedient lost child. ‘I don’t need a lift. It’s just around the corner.’ What else was around the corner? Bonkers Ben? She shuddered. The mocking nickname no longer worked in making him seem harmless and absurd. He’d been waiting for her...watching? Was he still watching?

The realisation he could extract himself from this little drama sooner rather than later sent a surge of relief through Danilo and for a split second he was sorely tempted to accept the rejection at face value.

Then she looked over her shoulder, the movement fear-filled and furtive—hell!

‘It’s on my way.’

‘It is?’ She suspected it was a lie but wasn’t about to call him on it. The thought of meeting up with her stalker sent a shudder through her.

Concern roughened the edges of his voice as he said softly, ‘You’re safe now.’

His voice pulled her back from the brink of panic; the unexpected gentleness in it made her want to cry.

‘Please don’t be nice,’ she begged. ‘I’ll cry. I know I’m being...’ Pathetic. ‘I’m not normally so—’ Tess brought her teeth down on her wobbling lower lip and blinked back weak tears. ‘He... Ben... He isn’t my boyfriend. He just thinks he is.’

Danilo dismissed her explanation with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Not my business.’ And he had no desire to make it his business, he reminded himself, turning his head as his sister’s features superimposed themselves over the pale, pinched face of this young woman, producing a familiar knife thrust of guilt that he didn’t try to evade.

‘I have a sister not that much younger than you.’ The woman was a little older than he had first assumed. ‘And I hope if she ever needed—’ His sister had needed and he hadn’t been there.

The woman took a deep breath and Danilo’s habitual objectivity slipped as he watched her attempt to regain control. The effort to straighten her slender shoulders sent a jerky convulsive ripple through her entire body; the air left her lungs in a long gusty sigh, but not the tension.

Heavy lids shadowing his stare, Danilo was torn between reluctant admiration and irritation, his irritation reserved for the protective instincts he felt shift and tighten in his chest as a solitary tear escaped the swimming eyes lifted to his. Things got tighter as he watched it slide slowly down her cheek. He had never seen eyes quite that shade of golden amber before.

Her eyes, almond-shaped and framed by thick, spiky black lashes, lifted her face from plain. They were extraordinary. Still, she was not his responsibility.

‘Well, thank you. I’d be grateful if it’s not out of your way, but I’ll be fine now—really.’

The delivery started firm and slowly faded, ending on a definite wobble. She looked at him with eyes that made him think of the runt of the litter of golden retrievers his father’s favourite dog had produced.

Danilo, promised first choice of the puppies, had, against all advice, chosen the sickly-looking one who everyone had warned would not survive. But that little animal had gnawed its way into his heart with those eyes.

The dog had survived and was still rewarding his decision with unconditional love, though her coat was less glossy than it had been before she’d got old and stiff.

‘But if perhaps you could walk with me, if you’re heading that way?’ Tess was shaking again, her body seized by inner tremors she had no control over. She didn’t shrug off the hand that came to rest gently against her shoulder blades. She was glad of the contact while recognising she was acting like the sort of woman she despised: weak, malleable and in need of male support. And this particular male had an attitude that normally would have got under her skin.

Cut yourself a break, Tess, you’ve got the flu and you’ve had a run-in with your unhinged stalker.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I’M TESS.’ IT SEEMED only good manners to tell the man who had saved her from a situation that could have ended up with her being a crime statistic her name.

‘Raphael, Danilo Raphael.’

An angel’s name. Appropriate given the circumstances, though her guardian angel had the physical appearance of the fallen variety.

They had reached the end of the alley, where she hesitated. Danilo walked past her and out onto the identical-Victorian-house-lined street. ‘Right or left?’

Tess didn’t immediately respond because she was doing yet another mental regrade of his position on the gorgeous scale! She pressed a hand to her chest to alleviate the breathless sensation.

There were a number of people who could look pretty good in subdued light but a lot less that could look good spotlighted by the artificially white blanching glare of a street lamp. Her fallen angel could take the unkind illumination, probably because there was not a plane or angle on his crushingly handsome face that didn’t deserve to be lit up. It was flawless.

But he was not just a pretty face—the rest of him looked pretty awesome too. This was a man who didn’t need good lighting or perfect tailoring to set him apart from his fellow men!

As she paused, mouth slightly ajar, he raised a darkly defined brow questioningly. A slither of liquid heat washed through her, the effects of the fever obviously, as she gave her head a tiny shake and, feeling embarrassed, she stepped out, glancing nervously over her shoulder before tilting her head back to reply to his question.

It struck her for the first time that if she were looking for danger, then in a line-up she would dismiss the mild-looking, bespectacled creep who had been stalking her for the past months. Raphael, on the other hand, was not a man anyone would dismiss. He was the living, breathing photofit image of dark, brooding and dangerous to know.

Not just because he was a hundred feet tall and hard—he’d lifted Bonkers Ben as though he were a rag doll! Her stomach gave a tiny flip as she recalled the tensile strength in the fingers that had curved around her upper arm. This man had a dangerous vibe.

Mum always had said don’t judge a book by its cover, which had always struck Tess as ironic even when she was a kid considering how much trouble her parent went to to present the right image to the public. Today it was all about image. Was this rampantly male stranger the product of some image consultant’s efforts or did all that come naturally?

‘Right,’ she said, gesturing vaguely in that direction. The fact was she was never likely to know anything about this enigmatic man with his intimidatingly perfect profile beyond the fact that he had appeared at the right moment, and for that she would always be grateful. ‘It’s the fourth house along. The one with the red door.’

‘This is it.’

Danilo glanced at the row of names beside buttons on the door frame; either this building was larger than it looked or the homes within were the size of shoeboxes. ‘I’ll see you to your door.’

Tess had enough fight left in her to challenge his not open for debate attitude. ‘That’s really not necessary.’

As she spoke she realised that the long, low car she had been aware of in the periphery of her vision had stopped. Like the man himself, it looked expensive. She nodded in its direction. ‘It looks like your lift is here.’

He turned and raised a hand.

‘I’ll only be a moment.’

Tess watched as he strode over to the car and spoke for a moment to the driver. She was tempted to slip inside but being caught before she had closed the door on him would have been embarrassing, not to mention ungrateful. And there was the fact it was not exactly hard work to watch him; not only was he supremely elegant, but every move he made suggested a physical power that was riveting.

He returned a moment later and nodded towards the door. ‘After you.’

‘Fine,’ she sighed out as she stepped a little ahead of him into the hallway. ‘I’m on the top floor.’ The curved staircase and the encaustic tiles underfoot were about the only original features left in the building which had been unsympathetically ‘modernised’ back in the seventies.

‘Where is the lift?’

‘We don’t have one.’ The trick, she told her shaking knees, was to take one step at a time—literally. This might take some time!

She had gone up the first three steps, the situation not made easier by the man behind her who was vibrating silent impatience, when she heard a soft growl.

His flight might not be an option now, but at this rate he’d be here half the night and she’d be on her knees by the time she got to the top floor. Sure, the woman was remarkably plucky, but he’d always thought plucky was another word for stubborn.

It was all a bit of a blur as one moment Tess was holding onto the bannister, and the next she was being casually lifted up into his arms. She grabbed the fabric of his jacket as he strode onwards and upwards.

‘Quite unnecessary,’ she gasped, sounding a bit like one of those heroines who fainted a lot and got rescued by dashing heroes—she gave a laugh. She was so not that girl!

‘I was losing the will to live.’

Tess kept her eyes straight ahead, aware of the occasional waft of warm breath on her cheek, trying to retain as much dignity as possible—a bit late for that! The hardness of his chest, the warmth, the false intimacy of the situation—all lent another layer of disorientation to what had been a very disorientating experience!

Outside her door he put her back down on her feet.

‘You’re very kind.’

His jaw clenched. ‘I am not kind.’

‘Well, I think you are.’ She fished in one of the deep pockets for her key. ‘So thank you, and goodnight.’

For the first time Danilo noticed there was something quite stubborn about her rounded chin. He found his eyes sliding lower down the column of her neck, the swanlike curve exposed now as she unfastened the top button of her ridiculous coat. She was too pale and too thin but her skin had a flawless, almost translucent quality. He scrutinised her with casual curiosity, wondering what she’d look like if she didn’t dress like a reject from a charity shop.

‘Not that good a night for you.’

She gave a sigh. It looked as if he wasn’t going until she was inside. Flipping her hair, which hung in wet rats’ tails down her back, off her face, she made a frustrated sound through clenched teeth. Her hand was shaking so hard she couldn’t fit the key in the lock. ‘There’s a knack,’ she panted, her breathing almost as erratic as her heart rate while ironically the man who had just carried her up three flights of stairs was not even breathing hard. He might not be breathing hard but she could feel the impatience rolling off him in waves. It didn’t help.

As her frustration built Tess resisted the impulse to kick the door. Instead she rested her forehead on the door and jiggled the key once more.

Her sigh was one of intense relief when it finally opened. She reached for the light switch and stepped inside before turning around. ‘Thank you again. I’ll be fine now.’

Danilo, his head ducked to avoid the low beams in what had presumably started off as the servants’ quarters in the house, nodded, half turned and then lost the fight with his conscience.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He really wanted to walk away. He wanted to listen to the voice of common sense that was urging him not to get involved, the same voice reminding him that this was none of his business, that no good, as his English nanny years ago had been fond of darkly warning, would come of it!

But inevitably the tug of guilt was too strong to resist.

‘You don’t look fine.’ That was a massive understatement. Under the strong electric light her face was the colour of paper, the shadows circling her eyes so dark they looked like bruises.

Well, I can’t argue with that! Tess’s own gaze collided with the critical stare of her dark-eyed rescuer—no man should be allowed eyelashes that long—and stopped. She had just had a close encounter with her own personal stalker, she was struggling to stay upright on knees that felt like cotton wool and she was worried about how she looked... Tess put it down to the temperature she was inevitably running.

‘Can I call someone for you?’ It was called passing the buck and seemed like a very good idea. ‘You shouldn’t be alone.’

Alone. The word echoed around in her head in an unpleasant way that made her glance for reassurance at the row of locks on the door. Of course she shouldn’t be alone. She should and would have been enjoying her third day of a fortnight in the sun with Lily, the classroom assistant, and Rose, who taught the other reception class, if it hadn’t been for this wretched flu bug.

Her wistful thoughts went to her friends enjoying sun, sea and maybe even a bit of romance and she felt a twist of envy. The only other person she could call on was Fiona, and though she knew her friend would drop everything if she knew what had happened Tess had no intention of spoiling Fiona’s last night with her sister and nieces, who lived in Hong Kong. This much-anticipated visit was rare.

There was her mum, of course, and she’d come running. As ambitious as her parent was, she had always put her daughter’s welfare ahead of her career, a fact Tess hadn’t always appreciated, but if her mum knew what had happened and got the full Bonkers Ben story then by the morning Tess’s story, and her name, would have gone viral and appear in every newspaper, while her mum, looking glamorous, caring and just the sort of person you’d want to vote into office, would be doing the rounds of the breakfast TV programmes. When she had a cause her mother was relentless and self-promotion came as naturally to her as breathing, neither of which in themselves was a bad thing, but Tess knew from experience what it felt like to be at the centre of one of her mum’s campaigns, and maybe she was selfish but she hated the idea of being stigmatised as a victim almost as much as she hated the idea of the attention.

Tess squeezed her eyes shut, but remained aware of the dark, brooding presence. His height was emphasised by the sloping beams. She didn’t need her macho guardian angel to tell her she’d have to deal with the Ben situation; she already knew that. But not tonight. If she thought any more her head might explode.

Tess opened her eyes. ‘I think—’ She blinked. She hadn’t invited him and she hadn’t been conscious of him moving, but he was standing in her hallway. The presence that earlier had felt comforting now, in the enclosed space, tipped over into disturbing.

‘There isn’t anyone,’ she blurted, then, conscious that might have made her sound as if she had no friends, she added tiredly, ‘All I need right now is to sleep off this flu.’

‘So what happened back there, you’re going to act like it didn’t happen?’

His disapproval hit an exposed nerve. ‘I’m trying,’ she gritted, feeling a flash of irritation with him for hanging around asking questions and making it impossible for her to do just that. Close on the heels of irritation came guilt; he had rescued her.

Danilo’s gaze travelled from her face to the row of locks on the door and his face hardened as he translated what he saw. He felt the hot fury rise in him and fought to damp it down to a low simmer. There were relationships that went sour and then there were people who... His fists clenched as he thought about what in a perfect world would happen to bullies and cowards.

‘Your boyfriend from the alley?’

She nodded tiredly. ‘Not boyfriend,’ she said without any real hope he’d believe her. His sardonic expression suggested she was correct in this assumption. She opened her mouth then closed it, shaking her head, trying to tell herself that it didn’t matter what a total stranger thought.

Teeth gritted, she focused on unfastening the toggles of her man-sized duffel coat, though size was all a matter of perspective, and for that matter so were men, she mused tiredly. While Fiona’s boyfriend, Matt, was an average-sized guy, she was lost inside his coat. She couldn’t think of any circumstances where she’d be wearing any garment belonging to the man whose eyes she could feel on the back of her neck, but they’d have to send in a rescue team with tracker dogs to recover her if she ever did.

The visual dragged out a laugh between huffs of exhaustion as she struggled with the coat.

The gurgle brought a flash of angry incredulity to his eyes. Was Tess so used to having boyfriends rough her up that she could laugh about it? His jaw tightened. Tales of abusive relationships never failed to outrage Danilo. The men were easy to understand—they were inadequate bullies, and his contempt for them was absolute. But he could never understand why some women always seemed to go back to them, believing that things would change.

It is not your role, Danilo, to lecture this woman on self-respect and personal safety, but the reminder didn’t lessen the knot of anger in his chest.

Tess continued to struggle with the coat that felt like a ton weight on her sore shoulders. In fact every inch of her hurt and his scrutiny wasn’t helping. The man could communicate more with silences than most people could with a three-page speech, and this time it was disapproval she was getting. No doubt he was just willing her to get a move on so that he could get back to his own important life. Did he think she didn’t want that too? She gave a sigh of relief when the last toggle gave and the coat landed on the floor with a thud. She made no attempt to pick it up as she turned back to her rescuer.

‘Thought I might have to sleep in it. Look, thank you for what you did.’ She stopped when she saw he was still staring at the door.

Danilo could feel the pressure in his head as the anger beating inside his skull reached critical level.

‘You should not have to live like this!’ He flicked one of the locks with a long finger and spun around to face her, conscious as he did so that he’d just missed his chance to walk away. ‘It is outrageous! Madre di Dio! How long has this been going on?’

‘Please, I’ve already had this conversation once tonight. Nothing as bad as this has happened before,’ she added, feeling the irrational need to defend herself.

‘But something has happened before?’ He seized on the comment. ‘Do you still have feelings for this man?’

The question astonished her. ‘I’ve never had feelings for him. I barely know him.’ Or you, she wanted to add, but she didn’t because she wanted more for this to be over and for him to go away. Didn’t he know that guardian angels appeared at the right moment and then slipped away, silently, without comment, without giving a person a headache—a worse headache?

‘What are you wearing?’

In the middle of sliding off the scuffed running shoes she had slipped on as she’d left the flat, Tess stopped, a deep flush travelling over her pale skin as her eyes moved from the onesie, chosen for its comfort value and not glamour, to his face.

‘Pyjamas!’

‘Yes, pyjamas,’ she said, beginning to get irritated now. ‘Maybe you don’t wear them but I do.’ She stopped, the colour in her cheeks deepening—you just suggested he slept naked.

If only her embarrassment had stopped there but, no, now she’d said it she was thinking it too. Tess was seeing a total stranger naked!

‘You deserve better!’

Danilo had no idea where the words came from as he stood there, his embarrassment concealed behind a stony mask—he could assume that his seeming inability to walk away, duty done, conscience salved, was down to that initial nebulous connection he had made between her and Nat. He couldn’t save his sister, he had failed Nat, but he could save this woman, who seemed to have serious self-destructive issues.

It was a statement that Tess couldn’t take issue with, though she was uncomfortably aware that people rarely got what they deserved.

‘He really isn’t my boyfriend, though, like you, he thinks he is, he even tells people that he is, but in reality he is just a guy who uses the same bus stop as me. There is nothing more between us than small talk.

‘At first,’ she admitted, ‘I just thought he was sweet...then, it was all a bit insidious, really. He’d turn up places I was, outside school, and then there were the emails and the texts. I thought if I ignored him he would get fed up and go away, then last month I had a break-in. There’s no proof it was him. He didn’t take anything but he left roses and champagne and...well, I took advice and precautions.’

Danilo heard her out in silence, his anger towards the other man growing as she told her story. ‘I should have throttled the guy!’

‘Well, with any luck I gave him my flu!’ The grimly vindictive wish was so out of sync with the wan, pathetic figure standing there that he laughed. The sound drew her attention back to him. ‘I hope you don’t catch it.’

‘You should inform the police.’

‘He didn’t actually hurt me, or even threaten to, it’s just that I panicked. If I hadn’t—if I’d just talked—’

‘You were not to blame for what happened.’

‘I know that, I’m just saying that I could have handled it better.’ Actually what was she saying? She pressed a hand to her aching head. ‘I suppose I will contact the police, but not tonight.’

‘Suppose?’

Tess squeezed her eyes closed. ‘If you yell I warn you I will cry and it is not a pretty sight.’ Bending forwards as she was convulsed by a loud sneeze, she raised her head and found a box of tissues extended to her. She took a bunch and blew her nose loudly then, looking at him through watery eyes, rasped, ‘Thank you.’