Claiming His One-Night Child

Yet when she’d stepped into that club in Monte Carlo, sick with nerves—unable to adopt the veneer of icy sophistication she’d perfected to get past the VIP bouncer—and Cardinali had appeared out of nowhere telling the bouncer that it was fine and she could come in, it wasn’t trash she’d been thinking of. Not when he’d smiled at her. Because it hadn’t been a practised seducer’s smile. It had been kind—reassuring, almost—and inexplicably comforting. In fact, he’d been kind all evening. He’d taken her under his wing, sitting her down in a quiet end of the club and getting her a drink. Then he’d sat opposite and talked easily to her about everything and absolutely nothing at all.

She’d been expecting predatory and cynical and he hadn’t been either of those things. To make matters worse, she’d found him so utterly beautiful, so magnetic, so charming, that she’d almost forgotten what she’d come to do. He’d overwhelmed her.

The attention he’d given her had made her feel like she was the centre of the world and, for a girl who’d come second best most of her life, it had been an intoxicating feeling.

Until he’d looked at his expensive, heavy gold watch that highlighted the bones of his strong wrist and said that he was going to have to leave soon. And she’d realised that if she wanted to make a move she was going to have to do it then. One more drink, she’d said. Just one more. And he’d agreed, not noticing when she’d slipped the drug into it.

Cardinali was watching her now and the smile turning his mouth wasn’t kind this time. No, there was something else there. A hint of the predatory seducer she’d been expecting, along with a certain calculating gleam. Almost as if he now saw her as an equal and not the nervous, inexperienced woman she’d been in the club, or the soft-hearted, weak girl her parents had always thought her.

It made her heart thump hard in her chest, an inexplicable excitement flickering through her.

‘My name is Carlotta,’ she said. ‘I told you that in the club.’

‘Ah, then you’ll have to forgive me my poor memory. Someone must have spiked my drink.’ He shifted on the bed, as if he was getting himself more comfortable, a lazy movement that drew attention to his powerful body. ‘So, are you going to stand there all night talking at me or are you going to murder me in cold blood? If it’s the former, I hope you don’t mind if I go to sleep. All this excitement is exhausting.’ He shifted again and she caught a hint of his aftershave, warm and exotic, like sandalwood. It was delicious.

She took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the scent. ‘Don’t you care at all which one it is?’

‘Since you’re not going to kill me, not particularly.’

Her finger on the trigger itched. ‘You don’t know that.’

‘Please, darling. Like I’ve already told you, if you’d really wanted to kill me you would have done it by now.’

He’s right. You would have.

Except she hadn’t. She’d told herself she couldn’t shoot an unarmed and unconscious man. Plus, he needed to know why he had to die, otherwise what would be the point? But now he was awake and she wasn’t telling him why he had to die. She was lying and pretending to be someone else instead.

What was she doing?

You don’t want to kill him.

A shiver passed through her. She had to kill him. This was the job she’d undertaken months ago, for her father and for the sake of her brother’s memory. For the honour of the Montefiores.

An eye for an eye. Blood for blood.

One of Luca Cardinali’s sons had to die and, as his older brother Enzo was untouchable, that left only Dante.

Except...

His eyes were inky in the dim light of the room and they seemed to see right into her soul. There was no sharpness in them, only a velvet darkness that wrapped her up and held her tight.

‘Lower the gun, sweetheart,’ he said quietly. ‘No matter what I’ve done, nothing is worth that stain on your soul.’

No, she shouldn’t lower the gun. She needed to keep everything her father had told her about blood, honour and revenge in the forefront of her mind. She needed to be strong and, most important of all, hard. There could be no emotional weakness now.

And yet...her hand was shaking and she didn’t understand why he should be so concerned with her soul when she herself didn’t care about what happened to her after this was over.

‘My soul is none of your business.’ She tried to keep her voice firm and sure.

‘If you’re preparing to risk it to kill me, then it most certainly is my business.’ His dark gaze held hers and there was no fear in it at all, only an honesty that wound around her heart and didn’t let go. ‘I’m not worth it, believe me.’

How curious. He made it sound as if her soul was actually worth something.

She should have shot him right then and there, but instead she found her hand lowering, exactly as he’d told her to.

He didn’t glance at the gun, his dark eyes steady on her instead.

The weapon was heavy in her hand and she didn’t understand why she hadn’t pulled that trigger when she’d had the chance. Because now that chance had gone. The moment when she could have fired was lost.

You failed.

Shame rushed through her like the tide. How had he done it? How had he got under her guard? And, more importantly, why had she let him?

She’d worked hard ever since Matteo’s death to excise all the soft, weak emotions inside her, the ones her parents had despised, and there shouldn’t have been any room at all for mercy. But it seemed as if there was some small part of her that was still weak. Still flawed.

Anger glowed in her gut, hot and bright, overwhelming the shame, and before she realised what she was doing she’d put the gun on the bedside table and was bending down over him, putting one hand on the pillow on either side of his head. His hair was inky black on the pillows, his eyes almost the same colour as they stared challengingly back at her.

He smelled so good, the heat rising off him making her want to get close, to warm herself against him.

‘What is it, kitten?’ Dante murmured, staring straight up at her, gold glinting deep in the darkness of his gaze. ‘Is it time to show me your claws?’

Again, there wasn’t an ounce of fear or doubt in him, just as there hadn’t been right from the start. He’d seen through her. He’d seen through her completely.

Her anger flared hotter, a bonfire of rage. How dared he find that weakness inside her? How dared he exploit it? And what was wrong with her that she had allowed him to do it?

Her perfectly executed plan was now in ruins and all because she hadn’t had the guts to do what needed to be done.

Because, somehow, she’d let this man undermine her.

Well, if he wanted to see her claws, then she’d show them to him. And she knew exactly what to do to in order to cause maximum damage.

Her experience with men was non-existent, but she’d studied Dante Cardinali and she’d studied him well. Including what she could find on his sexual predilections. He was a man who liked being in control and who always, always, got what he wanted.

And it was clear that he wanted her.

Which gave her the perfect leverage over him.

‘Not my claws,’ Stella murmured, staring right back into his eyes. ‘You can feel my teeth instead.’

Then she lowered her head and bit him.

CHAPTER TWO

THE LOVELY WOMAN who was probably Stella Montefiore, but definitely wasn’t Carlotta, closed her teeth delicately around Dante’s lower lip and every nerve-ending he had lit up with sweet, delicious pain.

He was hard instantly, his whole body tight, his wrists and ankles instinctively pulling against the cuffs with the urge to grab her, hold her.

He hadn’t been expecting this particular move, though really the glittering flare of anger he’d seen in her eyes just before she’d bent her head should have warned him.

She wasn’t as cool as she seemed, which was a delightful surprise.

In fact, the whole of her bending over him with that rich heady scent, her silky golden hair falling over one shoulder, her pale skin glowing against the fluid fabric of her blue dress, was a delightful surprise.

He’d been hoping for some fight and he’d certainly got it.

If only his hands were free.

Instead, he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to the softness of lower lip, a gentle coax.

She went still, her teeth releasing him, her lips a breath away from his.

So he bit her back, but not hard. A light nip to see what she’d do.

Her head jerked back and she looked down at him, her blue eyes glowing with anger, her cheeks pink. ‘Damn you,’ she whispered.

‘Why?’ His own voice had roughened. ‘Because I stopped you from doing what you didn’t want to do anyway? Because you’re not a killer?’

She didn’t reply, merely bent her head again, and this time her mouth was on his in a hard, furious kiss.

That she was inexperienced was immediately obvious, but she also tasted of anger and of passion, and his interest, already piqued, deepened even further.

He’d had inexperienced before, though he tended to steer clear of women who didn’t know what they were dealing with when it came to him. He’d had plenty of anger before too, not to mention passion. But not all three at once, and not when the woman dealing them out had been on the point of shooting him in the head.

It made him even harder than he was already.

Still, that inexperience was a warning sign that this woman, no matter how cool and strong she seemed, no matter that she’d had him at gunpoint, had her vulnerabilities. And it was interesting that the mention of her soul had been the thing that had made her lower the gun.

But what had been even more interesting to him was the definite shame that had flared in her eyes after she’d put the gun down, only to be swiftly overtaken by rage. She hadn’t liked failing her mission, that was for sure. And yet, instead of shooting him anyway, she’d kissed him.

Yes, that was very, very interesting.

Not only was she a woman with vulnerabilities, she also seemed to be a woman of strong passions. Which made for an intoxicating combination.

‘Kitten,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

In response she bit him again, harder this time, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest as she leaned in closer. Holy God, her nipples were tight and hard. He could feel them through the cotton of his shirt.

Lust uncurled in his gut, thick and hot, making him catch his breath.

It had been a long time since a woman had made him feel like this, he had to admit. And he wasn’t a man who denied himself anything he wanted. Self-control was all very well in certain situations, but when it came to sex he would freely admit to being a glutton.

Then again, she’d had the gall to drug him then tie him to a bed, so why should he give her everything she wanted right now?

He moved his head on the pillow, pulling his mouth away from her. ‘Sweetheart, if you want that, you’re going to have to ask for it.’

She made an angry sound and tried to kiss him again but he closed his mouth against hers.

The breath went out of her and she lifted her head. Her eyes were electric with anger, her cheeks pink. She said nothing, merely looked at him for a long moment. Then she straightened and took a step back from the bed.

But he didn’t think she was going to move away. No, he’d seen something shift in that furious blue gaze of hers. She’d made a decision.

Anticipation coiled inside him, his breath catching yet again.

This woman was proving to be more and more intriguing with every second that passed and he couldn’t wait to see what she was going to do next, how she would answer this particular challenge.

He didn’t have anywhere to be or anything much to do beyond the usual round of PR work that he undertook on behalf of Enzo’s and his company, plus the running of the more pleasurable side of the business, the resorts and clubs he owned all over the globe.

Anyway, he was bound to a bed. He couldn’t go anywhere even if he wanted to. Luckily he didn’t want to.

His lovely captor stood there a moment, her breathing fast in the silence of the room. Then she lifted her hands and pushed the straps of her silky blue dress off her shoulders, allowing the fabric to slide slowly down her body before pooling at her feet.

She was naked underneath it apart from the scrap of white lace between her thighs.

Okay, that was a move he hadn’t anticipated her making. Not that he was complaining. Not in the slightest.

He’d seen a lot of beautiful women in his lifetime—more than he could count. But it wasn’t this woman’s physical beauty that felt like a punch to the gut, though she was indeed lovely: small, delicate and pale, her breasts the sweetest curves, her nipples pink and pretty.

No, it was the way she stood there with her chin lifted and her back straight, proud as a queen, her gaze full of challenge. As if she was daring him to break his bonds and come to her. Kneel at her feet. Worship her the way she was obviously used to being worshipped.

His pulse accelerated, the ache in his groin becoming acute. He almost jerked against the damn cuffs again, but managed to control himself at the last minute.

‘Is this a request?’ His voice was uneven even though he tried to mask it. ‘Because, if so, it’s a very persuasive one.’

She said nothing. Her hands went to her hips and very slowly she eased down the lacy underwear she wore then stepped out of it.

Dio, she was golden between her thighs too.

His mouth watered, his heartbeat hammering in his head.

What is it with you? It’s not like you to let yourself get all hot under the collar for a woman.

It really wasn’t. He didn’t care about much of anything these days, but he found he cared about this. He wanted her hands on him. He wanted her skin against his. He wanted to be inside her. Preferably right now.

It was concerning. He didn’t want to want anything at all.

He gritted his teeth, for the first time in a long while considering denying himself. Because he shouldn’t care if she didn’t touch him or kiss him, or get that delicious body on his. It shouldn’t matter to him in the slightest.

If it doesn’t matter, why are you even thinking of refusing her?

Dante had no answer to that.

He smiled, though for the first time in years it felt forced, more like a grimace than a smile. And he tried to make himself sound nonchalant. ‘Well, don’t just stand there, kitten. Come closer and let me see you.’

And perhaps she heard the strained note in his voice, because an expression that looked an awful lot like satisfaction flickered over her lovely face. Then she moved back over to the bed, clearly in no hurry at all, and looked at him very deliberately, the same way he’d looked at her. She was flushed now, the pink extending down her throat and over the pale curves of her breasts, and it deepened as her gaze dropped to where he was hard and ready and aching.

And stayed there.

Electricity crackled the length of his body.

What the hell was she doing to him? He didn’t let himself get like this, not with anyone.

‘I can get hard for any woman,’ he murmured lazily, trying to keep the hoarse note out of the words. ‘But it’ll take more than you being naked to get me off.’

She gave him a brief, scorching glance. ‘Who says I want to get you off? Maybe I just want to play with you.’

Sneaky kitten. So this was a power play, was it? She’d seen the general state he was in and thought she could take advantage, clearly.

Well, she could try. He might be finding it a tad more difficult to be his usual cool self, but when it came to bedroom power games he was the master. Even cuffed to the bed.

‘Obviously I’m not going to object to that.’ He let his voice get lower, become seductive. ‘But, if you want to play, you’d better know what you’re doing.’

‘Who’s to say that I don’t?’ She reached out and stroked lightly over the hard ridge just behind his fly.

More electricity crackled along his nerve-endings, the light brush of her fingertips maddening. Dante ignored the sensation. Instead, he gazed at her from beneath his lashes, letting the look in his eyes burn hot.

She was inexperienced—that kiss she’d given him had proved it well enough—and even though it wasn’t something he’d normally use to his advantage, given the circumstances, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

‘That kiss for a start.’ He let his gaze roam over her, blatantly sexual. ‘Best to know what you’re getting into, darling. I’m a lot for a little kitten to handle.’

A deep-blue spark glittered in her eyes as she stroked him yet again. ‘You’re very arrogant for a man tied to a bed.’

‘And you’re very confident for a virgin.’

The deep pink flush staining her skin became scarlet, gilt lashes sweeping down, veiling her gaze and hiding her expression. And he was conscious of a very particular kind of satisfaction spreading through him. Firstly, for guessing right and, secondly, for the fact that he was perhaps the first man she’d ever touched like this. The first man with whom she’d ever been naked.

He normally steered clear of virgins, as he wasn’t a man an innocent should get entangled with, but he couldn’t deny that for some reason he liked the thought of this particular woman being a virgin. He liked it very much.

A virgin with a gun. How...intriguing.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, darling,’ he said, watching her intently. ‘Even I was a virgin once.’ Though, thinking back, he honestly couldn’t remember how or when he’d lost it.

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then suddenly she lifted her head and moved to the bed, climbing on top of it and straddling him. The weight of her was slight, but the heat of her bare skin seeping through his clothes was astonishing.

His breath caught as the blatant sweetness of her perfume surrounded him, but underneath that was something light and fresh, combined with the musk of feminine arousal.

Pretty, pretty kitten.

She rose above him, the pressure of her body against his groin an agony, the sway of her lovely breasts making his mouth go dry. Her skin was glowing, a sheen of perspiration at her throat, the look in her eyes all fire and challenge.

There was not a hint of shyness in her, or at least none that she let him see.

‘I’m not embarrassed.’ She reached for the top button of his shirt. ‘Why would I be?’

Her naked heat had sharpened his hunger while her refusal to back down ignited something far hotter. Something he’d thought he’d killed long ago.

His determination to win.

He smiled, allowing some of his sexual hunger to show. ‘No reason at all. But if you want to play with me then I do suggest learning the rules of the game first.’ He paused. ‘You don’t want to lose on your first try, do you?’

For the merest second an uncertain expression flickered over her face. Then it was gone.

‘But I’m not going to lose,’ she said coolly, pulling open the buttons on his shirt one by one then spreading open the white cotton, baring his chest. ‘I might be a virgin, but I’m not stupid. And a man is only a man.’ She pressed her palms to his skin, the heat of her touch like a brand, her blue eyes burning into his. ‘Like you said, Mr Cardinali. You’re at my mercy. And there’s nothing you can do about it.’

* * *

Dante laughed that intensely sexy laugh of his, the sound heating everything inside her to boiling point, making her skin feel hot and tight, as though she wanted to claw it off and step out of it.

He was giving her the most blatantly sexual look from underneath his lashes, all liquid darkness and heat, and the feel of his muscular, powerful body made her lose all her breath.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Biting him, taking off her dress, touching him, was supposed to tease him, taunt him with what he couldn’t have. Prove her strength to him and also punish him for making her lose her nerve so badly.

And yet the only one feeling as if all of this was a punishment was her.

She hadn’t expected that bite to ignite something inside her. She hadn’t expected his mouth to be quite so soft or for him to taste quite so delicious, like dark chocolate, fine whisky and all the seven sins rolled up into one.

She hadn’t expected the way he’d looked at her naked body to make her feel as if she was going to burn to ash where she stood. Or that touching the hard length that pressed against the wool of his trousers would feel so astonishingly good.

She hadn’t expected the intense throb between her thighs to be quite so demanding either.

Damn him. This was supposed to be a strong moment for her, not one where she felt as though she were standing naked in the path of an oncoming storm with nothing to protect her.

You’ve only got yourself to blame.

It was true. Sadly. She’d been the one who’d decided to bite him, to kiss him, to get naked and touch him. And now here she was, sitting on top of him, completely at the mercy of the desire inside her that had gripped her by the throat and wouldn’t let go.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Sexual desire was supposed to be another of the weaknesses she’d cut out of her life. And yet his bronze skin beneath her palms was so smooth, the muscle under that so very, very hard, and all she wanted to do was press harder, test his strength, spread her fingers out and soak in all his heat.

But the hidden glints of gold in his dark eyes held her completely hypnotised and she couldn’t look away.

‘Poor kitten.’ His voice was rough and deep, the rich amusement in it like a caress against her skin. ‘You don’t understand, do you? I’m not at your mercy. You’re at mine.’

It seemed a ridiculously arrogant thing to say, when he was the one on his back and cuffed to the bed. Yet...

He was fluid and powerful underneath her, and hard, like granite carved direct from a mountain. She could see that power beneath her hands, feel it in the tight coil of his muscles and in the heat running through his body. It was there in his eyes too, an arrogant certainty of his power that made her want to tremble.

She felt that certainty within herself, in the desire that wound through her, exposing her. In the way her breath came short and fast, and in the relentless throb of heat between her thighs. In the tightness of her skin and the acute awareness of every part of her that touched him and every part of her that didn’t. In the delicious, warm scent of him that made her mouth water and her heart beat faster.

You’re weak. You’ve always been weak.

Stella shoved the thought from her head. There was only one answer to that and that was simply to be stronger. She had to be if she was to overcome the insidious dragging need to surrender to him and the relentless pressure of her desire.

Dante Cardinali had seemed to be a simple man. A man driven by the single-minded pursuit of pleasure, a slave to any pretty face that came his way.

But it wasn’t him who was the slave. It was her.

‘No,’ she whispered, both to him and to herself. ‘I’m not at anyone’s mercy.’

‘Prove it, then.’ Deep in the velvet darkness of his eyes, golden fire burned. ‘Get off me and walk away. Put on your dress and leave this room.’ His hips lifted as he said the words, the hard length behind the wool of his trousers brushing up against the soft, sensitive tissues of her sex.

Pleasure bolted like lightning straight through her and she couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped.

‘Do it.’ His voice was rough with heat. ‘If you think you can.’

She could. Of course she could.