Bound To The Billionaire: Captive in His Castle / In Petrakis's Power / The Count's Prize

‘It’s so beautiful,’ Jess breathed.

It was also incredibly romantic, sitting beside Drago in the gondola, but it was doubtful he thought so, she acknowledged ruefully. He had given no indication that he believed she had unwittingly been involved in the fraud scam when she had worked for Seb. She wondered why she cared about his opinion of her. She wasn’t dishonest, and when Angelo regained his memory he would explain what he had done with his inheritance fund and Drago would realise he had misjudged her. But what if Angelo never recovered from his amnesia? she thought anxiously. The truth about his missing money might never be uncovered and Drago would always think the worst of her.

He could not force her to stay in Venice for ever, she reminded herself. But in order to return to England she would first have to organise a new passport, and to do that she needed her bank card, which was also in her rucksack at the bottom of the canal. Everything seemed complicated, and sleeping with Drago last night had confused the situation even more. She must have been mad. It was no excuse that her common sense had been obliterated by the firestorm of passion that had ignited between her and Drago. No excuse at all…

She darted him a glance, and her heart missed a beat when her eyes met his brooding gaze. The evening air was cool, and he frowned when he saw her shiver.

‘Here—take this,’ he said as he slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

‘Thank you.’ Was that breathy, seductive whisper really her voice?

The silk lining of the jacket retained the warmth of his body and felt sensuous against her bare arms. She wished it was his arms around her rather than the jacket, and recalled with shocking clarity how wonderful his naked body had felt when he had pulled her beneath him and made love to her. Desperate to banish her traitorous thoughts, she closed her eyes. But images remained of Drago’s bronzed chest, overlaid with the whorls of dark hair that had scraped the sensitive tips of her breasts when he had lowered himself onto her.

‘I still want you, too,’ his deep, gravelly voice whispered in her ear, and his breath feathered her cheek. Her lashes flew open and, startled, she caught her breath when she saw the hunger in his eyes that glittered like polished jet.

‘I don’t…’

‘Yes, cara, you do.’ He captured her denial with his lips and banished it with a kiss that was fiercely passionate yet held an underlying gentleness that was unexpected and utterly beguiling.

Jess lost her battle with herself. The pleasure of having Drago’s mouth move over hers was impossible to resist, and when he traced his tongue over the tight line of her clamped lips she gave a little moan and parted them so that the kiss became intensely erotic.

Lost in the magic he was creating, Jess stared at him helplessly when at last he lifted his head. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t know what the hell is going on either,’ he told her roughly. ‘This was not meant to happen.’

Drago’s taut voice revealed his frustration. He disliked public displays of affection and could not believe that he had kissed Jess on a gondola in the middle of Venice’s main waterway. At least the gondolier had discreetly averted his gaze, and when they drew up by the Palazzo d’Inverno he handed the man a large tip.

Jess walked ahead of Drago into the palazzo, her stiletto heels tapping on the marble floor, echoing the staccato beat of her heart.

He caught up with her as she reached the stairs. ‘What would you like to do for the rest of the evening? I have a selection of English DVDs if you want to watch a film.’

She tore her eyes from the sensual curve of his mouth that only a few moments ago had decimated her ability to think, and knew that she dared not spend another minute alone with him. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go straight to bed.’

His sudden grin stole her breath. Without his usual arrogant expression he looked almost boyish and heart-stoppingly sexy.

‘Excellent idea,’ he murmured.

She flushed with mortification when she realised he had taken her words as an invitation, but her frantic, ‘I meant alone,’ was muffled against his shoulder as he scooped her into his arms and strode up the stairs. ‘Drago—we can’t,’ she whispered when he reached his suite of rooms and carried her through to the bedroom. ‘Last night was a mistake.’

He tumbled her onto the bed and came down on top of her so that she felt the hard proof of his arousal nudge her thigh. Threading his fingers through her hair, he stared into her eyes, the amusement fading from his.

‘Last night was inevitable from the moment we met,’ he said harshly.

It was the truth. She had taken one look at him and fallen in lust—not love, Jess quickly assured herself. No way would she risk her heart with him. But no other man had ever made her feel this way. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids—light, delicate kisses that melted the last vestiges of her resistance. His fingers tugged open the buttons running down the front of her dress and he gave a low murmur of approval when he pushed the material aside and discovered that she was not wearing a bra.

‘Bellisima,’ he said thickly as he cupped her small breasts in his hands and anointed one dusky peak and then the other with his lips.

She caught fire, arching her slender body to meet his mouth and eagerly helping him to remove her dress and knickers. This was not the time for words; their need was too urgent. Drago stripped with a clumsy haste that was strangely touching, and after taking a condom from the bedside drawer and sliding it over the proud jut of his arousal he moved over her.

Jess caught her breath as he entered her. He filled her, completed her, and she wrapped her legs around him and held on tightly to his shoulders as he possessed her with deep, measured strokes, driving her higher. As her body trembled with the exquisite ripples of orgasm her heart soared, and when Drago groaned with the power of his own release she felt a fierce tenderness and the strangest sense that their souls had joined.

The crowds of tourists in St Mark’s Square had thinned in the early evening and the restaurants became busier. Sitting beneath the striped awning of a café on the edge of the square, her elbow propped on the table and her hand cupping her chin, Jess had a clear view of the ornate and incredibly beautiful Basilica.

‘I think I’m in love,’ she murmured. Beside her she felt Drago stiffen, and when she glanced at him and saw his startled frown she laughed. ‘Not with you. With Venice.’

‘Ah.’ His relief was evident in his smile.

For some reason Jess felt a little pang of regret that he wanted nothing more from her than sex. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself sternly. She knew their affair was based purely on their physical attraction to one another. Their sex-life was amazing, but inevitably the fiery passion they shared would burn out.

‘At the weekend we can climb to the top of the Campanile again, if you like,’ he offered. ‘I know how much you enjoyed the views over the city. Or I’ll take you to see the Doge’s Palace. The interior is impressive, and filled with stunning artworks. And of course you can’t visit Venice without walking over the Bridge of Sighs.’

‘It’s such a romantic name. I wonder why it’s called that?’

‘The popular explanation is rather less romantic than the name suggests. The bridge used to lead to the state prison, and crossing it would often be a prisoner’s last view of Venice.’

Jess sighed. ‘I feel guilty sightseeing when Angelo is stuck in hospital.’

‘You have visited him every day for the past few weeks, and I know how much he appreciates your company. Angelo would not begrudge you some free time,’ Drago insisted.

‘But I shouldn’t have free time. I should be at home, running my business.’ Jess chewed her bottom lip with her teeth—something she unconsciously did when she was anxious. ‘I know that when I phoned Mike he said everything is fine, and that he had secured a new contract for T&J Decorators to refurbish a commercial property, but I need to go back and take charge. My company means everything to me. It’s the only thing I’ve ever succeeded at,’ she admitted ruefully.

‘Once Angelo’s memory has returned you will be free to leave.’

Drago’s smile was full of easy charm but his tone was uncompromising, and Jess’s spirits plummeted with the realisation that he still suspected she had some involvement with his cousin’s missing inheritance fund. And in truth she was still his prisoner, for she never went anywhere without either him or his bodyguard Fico to accompany her. On a couple of occasions during the first week of her stay she had attempted to slip away from the bodyguard. It had crossed her mind that if she explained her situation to one of the nurses at the hospital they might help her. But none that she had met spoke English, Fico had followed her doggedly, and she still had the problem of no passport or money.

Jess pushed away the uncomfortable thought that she had not tried harder to leave Venice because she was captivated by her affair with Drago. His hunger for her showed no sign of abating. But aside from their mutual desire for one another a sense of companionship, even friendship, had unexpectedly developed between them. He had given her several guided tours of Venice, and Jess loved wandering around the city with him, exploring the narrow streets and the many charming piazzas. She visited Angelo every day while Drago was at work. Usually he met her at the hospital in the evening, and after spending some time with his cousin they would return to the palazzo or go for dinner at a restaurant—the Trattoria Marisa being their favourite place to eat.

‘How was Angelo today?’

‘He still has a bad headache.’ She frowned as her thoughts returned to Angelo. ‘It has lasted for three days now, and your aunt is very concerned.’

Dorotea had admitted as much. After spending endless days cooped up with her in the small hospital room Angelo’s mother had thawed slightly towards Jess, and had even thanked her for her efforts to help her son. Drago’s mother was also friendlier, but once or twice Jess had been aware of Luisa’s speculative glance, and she had a feeling that Luisa knew she was sleeping with her son.

‘I’ll speak to the consultant about him—’ Drago broke off and smiled at a small child who had toddled over from where his parents were sitting at a nearby table.

The little boy was about two years old, Jess estimated, and utterly adorable, with a halo of blond curls and big blue eyes. He seemed to be intrigued by Drago, and grinned as he waved the sticky ice-cream cone he was holding.

‘No, Josh!’ The child’s mother hurried over just as the toddler smeared ice-cream over Drago’s superbly tailored trousers. ‘I’m so sorry…’ she said in English.

Drago interrupted her frantic apology with a laugh. ‘Don’t worry. He’s an angelic-looking child,’ he said, in a soft tone that captured Jess’s attention.

‘He can be a little terror,’ the woman said ruefully. She glanced at Jess. ‘You know what they’re like at two—into everything.’

She nodded at the woman and smiled back, trying to ignore the knife-blade that sliced through her heart. What had Katie been like at two years old? she wondered. Had she been ‘into everything’? She would never know, and the reminder of all she had lost was an ache inside her that never went away.

The woman picked up the little boy and carried him back to her table. ‘Cute kid,’ Drago commented as he attempted to clean his trousers with a napkin.

‘I’ve noticed that Italians really seem to love children,’ Jess said musingly. ‘Have you never wanted to marry and have children?’

‘I’m happy with my life the way it is.’

Puzzled by the sudden curtness in his voice, Jess studied him curiously. ‘You were so gentle with that little boy. I think you would make a great father.’

‘Madonna! Can we drop the subject?’ he snapped. ‘My personal life is not up for discussion.’

Jess felt a flare of irritation at his arrogant tone. ‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve told you things about me and what happened with Seb. Why don’t you want to talk about yourself?’

He made no response, and the hard gleam in his eyes warned her to back off, but Jess refused to be dismissed. She knew she meant nothing to Drago, but the reminder that he only wanted a sexual relationship with her hurt more than it should.

‘Maybe you’re hiding some terrible secret?’ she taunted.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

His mouth tightened, and to Jess’s surprise he seemed uncomfortable. She sensed there was something in his past that he wanted to keep hidden. Was it a woman? He had a reputation as a playboy, but perhaps he’d once had a relationship that had been important to him. The idea evoked a sharp stab of jealousy inside her.

‘Have you ever been in love?’ she blurted out.

His eyes narrowed and his impatience was tangible, but after a few moments he shrugged and admitted tautly, ‘Once. A long time ago.’

Jess caught her breath. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing happened. The relationship ended and I grew up. It was an educational experience,’ he said, with heavy irony that made Jess even more intrigued. It sounded as though he had been hurt, and she guessed he had not wanted his relationship with the woman he had loved to end. She longed to ask him more questions, but he did not give her the opportunity as he glanced at his watch and stood up.

‘I’m going to the hospital to talk to the doctor about Angelo’s headaches,’ he said abruptly. ‘Fico will take you back to the palazzo. The party is due to start at eight o’clock tonight.’ He made an effort to lighten his tone. ‘I’m sure you will want to spend some time getting ready. I appreciate that you have agreed to act as my hostess. This dinner party is an annual event attended by senior management staff from Cassa di Cassari’s worldwide operation. My mother and aunt usually attend, but this year they naturally wish to devote their time to Angelo.’

‘No problem,’ Jess said in a fiercely bright voice.

She was determined not to let him see how hurt she felt by his refusal to talk about himself, and equally determined to hide the fact that she was feeling nervous about her role as hostess at the party. Drago had assured her that most of the guests would be able to speak English, but what on earth did a decorator have in common with high-flying businessmen and company executives from the world famous Cassa di Cassari? she thought anxiously.

As she stood up she was overcome by an unpleasant sensation that the pavement beneath her feet was tilting, and she gripped the edge of the table.

‘What’s the matter?’ Drago asked, frowning as he watched the rosy pink flush on her cheeks fade so that she looked ashen.

‘I just feel a bit dizzy. It’ll pass in a minute.’

He looked unconvinced. ‘I hope you’re not coming down with something. You felt dizzy when you got up this morning.’

‘It’s nothing.’ Jess dismissed his concern, not revealing that she had waited until he had left for work before she had rushed to the bathroom to be sick the last two mornings. ‘Maybe I’ve had too much sun. It’s much hotter here in Venice than in London, and I’m not used to the heat.’ That had to be the explanation, she assured herself.

‘With your delicate colouring you need to wear a hat.’ Drago smoothed a tendril of her fiery gold hair back from her face and could not resist dropping a light kiss on her soft mouth. ‘I adore your freckles, cara. Especially the ones that look like gold-dust scattered over your breasts,’ he murmured, his voice dropping to a sexy whisper that sent a little shiver of response down Jess’s spine.

One look from his glittering black gaze was all it took to make her melt, she acknowledged wryly. As she picked up her bag the magazine she had bought at the hospital slid out and fell on the floor. Drago bent to pick it up, but instead of handing it to her he stared at the front cover and his expression darkened.

‘Why do you read such trash? Gossip magazines print utter rubbish,’ he said tersely, flicking through the pages with a look of arrogant disdain on his face that irked Jess.

‘I suppose you think I should only read highbrow novels by classical authors such as…’ She frantically searched her mind for an author she had heard of whom he would deem suitable. ‘Dickens.’ It was the only name she could come up with. ‘Actually, I bought that magazine because it mainly has photos of celebrities’ houses, and I’m interested in interior design. I can’t read it because I don’t understand Italian. But don’t think that I read literary stuff at home, because I don’t. Unlike you, I wasn’t born into a wealthy family and I don’t have the advantage of a good education.’

Jess could not hide the tremor in her voice. Drago was highly intelligent and had an extensive knowledge of many subjects. She felt embarrassed by her lack of education, and he clearly thought she was a brainless bimbo. ‘At least I’m not a snob, who criticises other people for their tastes,’ she finished hotly.

Drago raked a hand through his hair. ‘I wasn’t trying to insult you. Dio, you are such a firebrand.’

His exasperation faded and he felt an unexpected tug of tenderness when he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He was unwilling to explain that the photograph of a beautiful socialite on the front cover of the magazine was an unwelcome reminder of his past. Nor could he explain to Jess that watching the little boy in the café had evoked an ache in his gut. Some things were best left buried. He had never before felt inclined to talk about his past to any of his lovers, and there was no reason why he should do so with Jess, he told himself.

He gave a frustrated sigh when he saw Fico’s burly figure heading towards them across the square. What he wanted to do was take Jess back to the palazzo and make love to her but, as always, duty to his family prevailed. He was concerned about his cousin, and had promised his aunt that he would speak to the consultant and find out whether Angelo’s headaches were an indication of something more serious.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHERE WAS DRAGO? Jess glanced at the clock for the hundredth time, and her tension escalated when she saw that it was ten to eight. Any minute now the party guests would begin to arrive, expecting to be greeted by their host. Instead they would be met by a hostess whose social skills were sadly inadequate, she thought, feeling another stab of nervousness at the prospect of the evening ahead. Fortunately Drago’s butler Francesco was his usual unflappable self, and had informed her that the household staff had completed all the preparations for the party.

Leaving her bedroom, which she had never actually slept in during her stay at the palazzo but used as a dressing room, she walked back to the master suite and felt weak with relief when Drago strolled into the sitting room from his bedroom.

‘There you are!’ Her relief gave way to anger as she watched him calmly adjust his cufflinks as if he had all the time in the world. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.’

His brows lifted. ‘Why, cara, I didn’t know you cared,’ he drawled.

‘I meant I was worried you wouldn’t get back in time.’ She fell silent, puzzled by his attitude, and by the strange feeling that he was avoiding her gaze. ‘Were you delayed at the hospital? How is Angelo?’

‘He’s fine.’ Perhaps realising that he had sounded curt, Drago finally looked at her. ‘We’ll talk about him later,’ he said obliquely.

He smiled suddenly, and Jess felt a familiar knee-jerk reaction as he roamed his eyes over her.

His voice softened. ‘You look amazing, mia bella. The dress is perfect for you.’

She flushed, feeling stupidly shy. ‘It’s a beautiful dress. I’ve never worn anything like it before.’

The full-length royal blue satin gown that Jess had discovered in her room when she had gone to change for the party was exquisite; the deceptively simple design flattered her slender figure and the crystal studded shoulder straps and narrow belt gave the dress extra glamour. One of the maids had helped her with her hair, and had swept it up into a sleek chignon. Three-inch sliver stiletto sandals gave her additional height, and when Jess had studied her reflection in the mirror she had been shocked to see herself looking so elegant.

‘Is the dress from the Cassa di Cassari range of clothes?’

‘No. I asked the designer Torre Umberto to make it especially for you. This will be a perfect accessory for the dress.’

As he walked towards her Drago took something from his pocket. Jess gasped when he held it up and she saw that it was a strand of glittering diamonds interspersed with square-cut sapphires.

‘I don’t think I should wear it. Supposing I lose it?’ she said nervously. A little shiver ran through her when she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck as he fastened the necklace around her throat.

‘Of course you won’t lose it.’ He turned her towards the mirror and she caught her breath at the sight of the diamonds sparkling with fiery brilliance against her skin.

‘I feel like I’ve stepped into the pages of a fairy tale,’ she whispered, staring at the reflection of the beautiful woman whom she hardly recognised as herself, and the dark, dangerously attractive man standing behind her. She gave another shiver when Drago bent his head and trailed his lips down the length of her slender white neck. In the mirror she watched his eyes glitter with a look she knew so well, and his hunger for her made her insides melt.

He turned her to face him, but instead of kissing her, as she longed for him to do, he stepped away from her and ran a hand through his hair.

‘Jess…we need to talk.’

Puzzled that he seemed uncharacteristically ill at ease, she said quietly, ‘What about?’

He cursed at the sound of a knock on the door, and strode across the room to open it. After a brief conversation with the butler he glanced back at her, his frustration that they had been interrupted revealed in his taut voice. ‘Francesco says that some of the guests have arrived. We had better go down and greet them.’

Her foster-mother had had a habit of quoting proverbs, and one in particular—You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear—had never seemed more appropriate, Jess brooded later in the evening. Thanks to the haute couture dress she was wearing she did not look out of place among the glamorous women party guests. But it had quickly become apparent that she did not fit into Drago’s rarefied world of the sophisticated super-rich.

Dinner had been a nightmare; she hadn’t known which cutlery to use for each course, and she’d managed to knock over a glass of wine belonging to the guest sitting next to her. One of the waiters had calmly mopped up the mess, but she’d felt everyone’s eyes on her and wanted to die of embarrassment.

The fact that she did not speak Italian had not proved a problem, as most of the guests spoke English, but while they’d discussed a range of subjects including politics, current affairs and the arts, Jess had struggled to find something to say. She knew nothing about opera, she had never skied in Aspen—or anywhere else for that matter—and enquiries about her chosen career were met with surprise followed by an awkward silence when she revealed that she ran a decorating company.

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