A Night In His Arms: Captive in the Spotlight / Meddling with a Millionaire / How to Seduce a Billionaire

‘Domi? Can’t I have some?’

Domenico dragged his attention to Chiara. ‘Of course, bella.’ He handed over the bunch then leaned back on his arms. Lucy’s heart pattered faster. If he shifted again they’d be touching.

Domenico hadn’t touched her since Chiara’s accident. That made her wonder if she’d imagined the strength of his embrace that day, or the way his hands had trembled as he held her. Her breath eased out in a sigh.

She’d never forget the magic of his kiss. Her fingers drifted to her mouth as she relived the brush of his lips.

It worried her how much she longed for him. How readily she responded now he treated her as a welcome guest. After hearing him defend her to Pia she hadn’t been able to quell effervescent excitement, or the conviction that things had changed irrevocably between them.

She looked up to find his hooded eyes gleaming with heat. It arced between them, pulsing darts of sizzling awareness to her breasts, her belly and beyond.

Lucy shivered and his mouth curled in a lopsided smile that carved a long dimple down his lean cheek. She curled her fingers into the grass, fighting the impulse to reach out and touch.

‘So, Lucy.’ He paused, glancing across to where Chiara sat with the flowers she’d gathered. ‘You approve of Italian picnics?’

‘I adore Italian picnics.’

‘You’ve only been on one.’

She shrugged and felt the soft breeze waft over her bare arms, the melting laxness in her bones. ‘What’s not to like? Sunshine and food fresh from the farm.’ She gestured to the remains of home baked bread, bowls of ricotta and local honey, prosciutto, olives and a cornucopia of summer fruits. ‘It’s heaven. Almost as good as our picnics back home.’

His eyebrows slanted high. ‘Almost?’

‘Well, there’s nothing like a sudden English rainstorm to liven up outdoor eating.’

He laughed, the deep rich sound curling round her. An answering smile hovered on Lucy’s mouth.

Smiling had become second nature lately. Because she’d been made to feel she belonged. By Chiara’s warm-hearted family and by Domenico. Gone was his judgemental frown, replaced by easy-going acceptance that banished so many shadows. He’d taken her snorkelling again, taught her to waterski and whiled away more hours than he needed to in her company, never once mentioning his brother or the story she might sell to the press. As if he trusted her.

Lucy could relax with him now.

No, that wasn’t right. This tingling awareness wasn’t relaxation. It was confidence and excitement and pleasure all rolled together.

Risky pleasure, when it lulled her into fantasy. When she found herself hoping the horrors of the past would vanish and leave them untroubled in this paradise.

A chill frisson snaked up her backbone.

It can’t last.

One day soon the real world would intrude.

Lucy marvelled that Domenico had taken so much time out from what must be a heavy work schedule. He’d have business elsewhere. And she...she’d have to go too.

Regret lanced her and she twisted towards Chiara rather than let Domenico glimpse her pain.

Its intensity shocked her. It ripped through her, stealing the breath in her lungs.

Lucy pressed a hand to her chest.

‘Are you okay?’ Domenico moved abruptly as if sensing her discomfort.

‘I’m fine.’ This time her smile was a desperate lie. ‘Just a little too much indulgence after all.’

Panic stirred. This wasn’t just regret that the vacation was almost over. She’d known it would be tough trying to create a new life. She’d spent the last weeks facing the unpalatable facts of a future without family, friends, a job or anywhere to call home.

But the dread that made her skin break into a cold sweat owed nothing to that. It had everything to do with Domenico Volpe and what she’d begun to feel for him.

She felt...too much.

On a surge of frantic energy Lucy shot to her feet. Domenico was just as quick, his expression concerned as he broke his own unspoken rule and encircled her wrist with long fingers.

Instantly Lucy stilled, willing her pulse to slow.

‘What is it, Lucy?’

‘Nothing. I just wanted to move.’

Grey eyes searched her face and she held her breath, praying he couldn’t read her thoughts. She could barely understand them herself. Amazing as it seemed, she cared for Domenico in a way that made the idea of leaving him send panic spurting through her.

‘Liar.’ To her addled brain the whisper sounded like a caress.

The stroke of his thumb against her wrist was a caress. She clamped her hand on his to stop it, looking down to see his dark golden fingers cradle her paler ones.

They held each other, fingers meshing. Strength throbbed through her. How could she give this up?

Because she must.

‘You promised—’

‘I promised not to revisit the past.’ His breath was warm on her cheek. ‘But this isn’t about the past, is it, Lucy? This is about the present. Here. Now.’

Unable to stop herself, she turned her head and met his eyes. Molten heat poured through her as their gazes locked. The world receded, blocked out by the knowledge she read there, the awareness.

‘I can’t—’ Words clogged in her throat.

‘It’s all right, Lucy. You don’t have to do anything.’

‘Domi? Lucy? What’s wrong?’

Domenico looked down at Chiara and Lucy felt the sudden release of tension as if a band had snapped undone around her chest. She breathed deep, trying to find equilibrium. But Domenico still held her, his touch firm and possessive. A thrill of secret pleasure rippled through her.

‘Everything’s fine, little one. I’ve got a surprise for you both.’

* * *

The surprise was a trip to the mainland, to a town that climbed steep hills in a fantasy of pastel-washed houses. Lucy wished she had a camera. Everywhere she turned were amazing vistas and intriguing corners.

‘Come on, you’re so slow.’ Chiara tugged her hand.

‘I’ve never seen any place like this.’ Lucy lifted her gaze past a tree heavy with huge golden lemons to the view of green hilltops above the town. ‘It’s beautiful.’

The little girl tilted her head. ‘Isn’t it pretty where you come from?’

Instantly Lucy had a vision of grey concrete and metal, of bare floors and inmates scarred by life. It seemed like a dream as she stood here in the mellow afternoon sunlight.

‘Yes, it is pretty.’ She thought of the village where she’d grown up. ‘The bluebells grow so thick in spring it’s like a carpet in the forest. Our house had roses around the door and the biggest swing you ever saw underneath a huge old tree in the garden.’

Summers had seemed endless then. Like this one. Except it had to end.

She’d have to forget trying to find a bookkeeping job. Instead she’d look for casual waitressing when she got to England. Something that didn’t require character references.

‘Come on.’ Chiara tugged her hand again. ‘Domi said we can have a gelato in the square.’

Lucy let herself be led back towards the centre of town. Domenico would have finished his errand for Chiara’s nonna. He’d be waiting. Her heart gave a little jump that reminded her forcibly that it was time to leave for England.

Yet her smile lingered. For this afternoon she’d live in the moment. Surely she could afford to store up memories of one perfect afternoon before she faced the bleak future?

They were passing some shops, Chiara hopping on one leg then the other, when a shout yanked Lucy’s head around.

‘Look! It’s her!’

A thin woman on the other side of the narrow street pointed straight at Lucy and Chiara.

‘I told you it was her when they walked up the hill, but you didn’t believe me. So I went in and got this. See?’ She waved a magazine, drawing the attention not only of the man beside her, but of passers-by.

Lucy’s heart sank. She took Chiara’s hand. ‘Come on, sweetie.’

But the woman moved faster, her voice rising.

‘It’s her I tell you. She’s a killer. What’s she doing with that girl? Someone should call the police.’

Nausea roiled in Lucy’s belly as she forced herself to walk steadily, not break into a sprint. That would only frighten Chiara. Besides, fleeing would only incite the crowd. She remembered how a mob of inmates reacted when they sensed fear in a newcomer.

Skin prickling from the heat of so many avid stares, she tugged Chiara a little faster. Around them were murmurs from a gathering crowd.

The woman with the magazine came close but not close enough to stop their progress. But the malevolent curiosity on her sharp features spelled trouble. For a moment Lucy was tempted to snarl a threat to make her shrink back.

But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to regress to that hunted woman she’d been, half-savage with the need to escape, ready to lash out at anyone in her way.

It had only been a few weeks since her release but they’d altered her. She’d lost the dangerous edge that had been her protection in prison. Besides, what sort of example would that set? She squeezed Chiara’s hand and kept walking.

‘Why doesn’t someone stop her?’ the woman shrieked. ‘She’s a murderer. She shouldn’t be allowed near an innocent child.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw the picture in the magazine she waved like a banner. It was a close-up of Lucy getting into Domenico’s limousine. The headline in blood-red said, ‘Where Is Sandro’s Killer Now?’.

Her heart leapt against her ribcage as fear battered her. The nightmare would never end, would it? Now Chiara was caught in it. She felt the child flinch as the woman screeched. Anger fired deep inside.

She stopped and turned, tugging Chiara protectively behind her.

The woman shrank back apace. ‘Don’t let her hurt me! Help!’ Instantly others surged forward, curious.

‘Signora—’ Lucy dredged up a polite tone ‘—please don’t shout. Can’t you see you’re frightening my friend? It would be much better for everyone if you didn’t.’

The woman gawped, opening then closing her mouth. Then she hissed, ‘Listen! She’s threatening me.’

‘Lucy?’ Chiara’s voice was unsteady, her eyes huge as Lucy turned to reassure her, stroking her hair and plastering what she hoped was a confident smile on her face. But inside she trembled. This was turning ugly.

‘Grab her, someone. Can’t you see she shouldn’t be with that child?’

There was a murmur from the crowd and Lucy sensed movement towards her. She spun around to confront a sea of faces. Her stomach dived but she drew herself up straight.

‘Touch me or my friend and you’ll answer to the police.’ She kept her tone calm by sheer willpower, her gaze scanning back and forth across the gathering.

* * *

The words were loud even over the mutterings of the crowd. And enough to hold them back...for now.

Domenico took in the defiant tilt of Lucy’s head and her wide-planted feet, as if she stood ready to fight off an attack. But she couldn’t fend them off. Her hands were behind her back, holding Chiara’s.

She looked like a lioness defending her young.

A lioness outnumbered by hunters.

Something plunged through his chest, a sharp purging heat like iron hot from the forge. His hands curled into fists so tight they trembled with the force of his rage. He wanted to smash something. Preferably the shrewish face of the woman stirring the crowd.

He strode up behind Lucy.

She must have sensed movement for she swung round, her face pale.

Her eyes widened. She gulped, drawing attention to the tense muscles in her slender throat and the flat line of her mouth. She looked down, murmuring reassurance to Chiara, but not before he’d seen the fear in her eyes. Half an hour ago those eyes had danced with pleasure at the sight of the pretty town and its market stalls.

Naked fury misted his vision.

Domenico stalked the last pace towards her. In one swift movement he scooped up Chiara and cuddled her close. He looped his other arm around Lucy and pulled her to him. She was rigid as a board and he felt tension hum through her, an undercurrent of leashed energy.

‘I don’t know who you are,’ he growled at the harridan in the thick of the crowd, ‘but I’ll thank you not to frighten my family.’

Beside him Lucy jerked then stilled. He heard her soft gasp and rubbed his palm up her arm. It was covered in goose bumps. Damn him for leaving them alone!

‘But she’s—’

‘It doesn’t matter who she is, signora. But I’ll have your name.’ His voice was lethal. ‘I’ll need it for my complaint to the police. For public nuisance and harassment.’ He watched the woman wilt. ‘Possibly incitement to violence.’

He turned and glared at the gathering, which had already thinned substantially.

‘And the names of anyone else involved.’

He turned to Chiara, giving them time to digest that. ‘Are you all right, bella?’

She nodded. ‘But Lucy isn’t. She was shaking.’

‘It’s all right, little one. I’m here now and Lucy will be fine.’

Domenico felt Lucy shudder and held her tighter, wishing he had both arms free to hold her. Wishing he hadn’t dispensed with security support today. He turned back to the street. Only a couple of people remained, watching wide-eyed. He heard the woman at the front whispering.

‘He’s the one in the magazine. The one whose—’

‘Basta!’ He scowled. ‘One more word from you and I’m pressing charges.’ He gave her a look he reserved for underperforming managers. A moment later, she and her companions had scuttled away.

‘Right, girls.’ He turned towards the main square, his arms tight around Chiara and Lucy, his tone as reassuring as he could make it over simmering fury. ‘Gelato time. I’m having lemon. How about you?’

CHAPTER TEN

LUCY SHOVED HER spare shoes into her bag. Just as well she didn’t have much to pack. She’d be done in no time.

Then what? the little voice in the back of her head piped up. Back to the town where you almost caused a riot simply walking down the street?

She’d talk to Domenico—

No, not him.

She’d talk to Rocco. Surely a security expert could suggest how she could get away and lose herself in the crowds of a big city in England. Anonymity was all she asked. She had no hope of ever getting that in Italy. Not with the press hot on her trail.

Unless she gave in and sold her story.

Her stomach cramped at the idea of lowering herself like Sylvia, her stepmother. That betrayal cut deep. How could Sylvia have done it?

Lucy needed the money, now more than ever. But she needed her self-respect too.

She grabbed a shirt and slapped it on top of the shoes, fighting the hot prickle of tears.

What was happening to her? She hadn’t cried in years, not till Chiara’s accident. Now she wanted to curl up and blub out her self-pity. It was as if her defences had collapsed, leaving her prey to weakness she’d thought she’d conquered years before.

She looked at the winking lights of the mainland.

A few hours ago she’d been happy. Happier than she’d believed possible. The day had been glorious, the surroundings spectacular, and she’d basked in Domenico’s approval and solicitude. She’d blossomed into a woman she barely recognised, who actually believed good things might come to pass. Who believed Domenico saw beyond the surface to the woman she was at heart, or was before the last years had scarred her.

She dragged a deep breath into constricted lungs.

He’d been kind, caring, fun. She’d enjoyed his company. More, she’d believed he’d enjoyed hers. And though he hadn’t kissed her again, she’d felt the weight of it between them, a potent presence. A promise.

But there could never be more between them. She tried to tell herself he was softening her up to convince her to sign his contract. But she rejected the idea.

Why?

Because she’d fallen for him.

Her hands clenched so hard the nails bit crescents into her flesh.

Pathetic, wasn’t she? As if he’d ever care for her.

Maybe those years in jail had warped her judgement—made her ready to succumb to the tiniest hint of caring. She was ready for passion and more, for tenderness, because they’d been denied her so long. That had to be the reason. How else could she explain the way she’d fallen for Domenico like a ripe plum?

She was doing the right thing, getting on with life. This time tomorrow she’d be in anonymous London.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

His voice slid like a finger of dark arousal down her spine. Lucy trembled and clutched her clothes tight. Her heart pounded so hard it seemed in danger of bursting free.

‘Packing.’ She didn’t turn. This was difficult enough already. Domenico made her weak in too many ways.

Her pulse thundered as she waited for his response. Maybe he’d turn and leave, glad to be rid of her.

When he spoke again he was so close his words wafted warm air on her neck. She shivered with longing.

‘No, you’re not.’

Lucy spun round, dropping clothes from nerveless fingers.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She drew herself up. ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’

But her defiance was hollow. Her heart wasn’t in it. Especially when the sight of his arrogant, endearing, brooding features clamped a different sort of pain around her chest.

She yearned for him to pull her into his embrace as he had earlier and convince her that everything would be okay.

Except it wouldn’t. Nothing could make this right.

‘You’re not the sort to run away when things get tough.’

Lucy’s eyes widened at the compliment.

Or did he just see her as prison-tough and able to weather anything?

‘Watch me!’ She turned to her case but he grabbed her upper arm and hauled her round towards him.

Shock froze her. Some part of her brain rehearsed the quick, violent action that would make him break his hold, yet she made no move to free herself.

‘You’re not a coward.’

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