Even so, Dario was livid about having to meet the man again and suffer his hospitality. What exactly was Trovato’s game? Pretending to love Mia? Asking for her hand in marriage? There had to be an ulterior motive—because Sante Trovato never did anything without one. The man was a user, a betrayer. Dario had discovered that the hard way.
He heard Tallulah gasp through the headphones as the chopper coasted over the citrus and olive groves, the elegant architectural flourishes of fountains and guest houses from a bygone era, the glistening waters of a swimming pool surrounding by exotic blooms which blended in seamlessly with the ornate gardens… Heat eddied in his gut, triggered by his fake fiancée’s reaction to Trovato’s ostentatious home.
As if it wasn’t bad enough he was having to attend this wedding on enemy turf—and quite possibly witness his sister marry a man he despised and who he had already told her she could never trust—he was having to do it while coping with the worst case of blue balls he had ever experienced.
What the hell had he been thinking, kissing Tallulah after that intrusive interview? It had been a mistake of epic proportions. He had slept even less in the nights since, and had to take himself in hand more than once—like a horny teenager instead of a man who could have any woman he desired… Except the one strapped into the helicopter beside him, pretending to be his fiancée—her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed, her breasts pressed enticingly against the soft fabric of the demure designer dress.
The irony did not escape him that when Gianna Lombardi’s article had been published yesterday, it had been much more favourable to their cause than he had expected after the journalist’s antagonistic questions about his father… Lombardi had declared their whirlwind romance a love for the ages, and Tallulah the woman who had tamed Milan’s biggest playboy—mostly because of his unguarded reaction to the news his fake fiancée was learning Italian. The feature writer had been touched by his surprise, apparently. The truth was he had not been surprised, he had been shocked, not just by Tallulah’s decision, but by his knee-jerk reaction to it… That fierce yearning to have his fake bride speak to him in his own language—the language his father had once punished him for using—had been swift and sudden, and reminded him of that confused, unhappy, desperately lonely boy. An emotional response he despised…
He glared out of the window, his confused reaction tormenting him all over again. Why should he care if she learned Italian, or what language she spoke to him in? Theirs was no more than a temporary arrangement. Surely that illogical response was simply a result of being unable to feed the hunger which had only got worse since that damn kiss. But instead of coming to him as he had expected—because he knew she yearned for him, too—she had remained wary and aloof.
He had planned to wait until she admitted she wanted to change the terms of their arrangement, too. Pressuring women was not his style, but when had he ever wanted one as much as he wanted her? It was lowering to realise he was starting to become obsessed with her, which was also not something he had ever experienced before either—because he had always known it made you weak to wish for something you did not have.
Now more than ever, he needed the release only good, hard, sweaty sex could give him, to navigate the days ahead. He was already wound too damn tight at the thought of seeing Trovato with his sister. But the prospect of having to treat Tallulah like a lover in public while being unable to touch her in private was an additional torment which threatened to make this trip even more unbearable.
The helicopter settled onto the heliport at the back of the palazzo, once the home of a Sicilian prince. After the blades had powered down, they were greeted by a small army of staff, who would collect their luggage and escort them to the main residence.
As they were led into a huge entrance hall and towards a wide, sweeping marble staircase—already decorated with local blooms and ribbons for the wedding that evening—the grinding pit of resentment in Dario’s stomach grew.
He did not wish to be here, forced to socialise with his enemy. But he was doing this for Mia, in one last-ditch attempt to make her see reason.
As they ascended the staircase behind the staff member who had introduced himself as Trovato’smaggiordomo, he pressed his palm to Tallulah’s back.
‘I wish to speak to my sister in private, once you have been introduced,’ he murmured against her ear. ‘Will you be okay alone for an hour?’
‘Of course, the estate looks amazing. Maybe I could explore? Is the wedding due to take place tomorrow?’ she asked, but the polite smile she sent him only increased his irritation. Why was she treating him like a stranger when the taste of her mouth, the memory of her sobs still tortured him?
‘It is scheduled for tonight. It appears to be a fairly modest affair by Sicilian standards as it has been so rushed.’ The haste was another warning sign, as far as Dario was concerned, of Trovato’s dishonest intentions. ‘I certainly do not intend to remain as Trovato’s guest for more than one night…’ he snapped. Assuming, of course, he could not persuade his sister to see the light and call off this farce at the eleventh hour. But knowing how impulsive and naïve Mia had always been—and how unwilling to accept his advice—he already suspected he was on a fool’s mission.
‘You’re unhappy about the wedding?’ Tallulah asked softly, the confusion in her eyes reminding him of her expression when he had questioned her decision to take Italian lessons. Why did that look get to him so much?
‘No, I am not happy that my sister has chosen to marry that man,’ he said, giving away more than he had intended. Very few people knew of his former connection with Trovato, and he wished it to remain that way. The man no longer had the power to hurt him. He had lived with the consequences of that day ever since, but in some ways, he welcomed the wounds which would never heal. They had made him stronger and more resilient—and would always remind him never to trust anyone the way he had once trusted Trovato.
Because the boy who was supposed to be his best friend had deserted him after the accident, when his father had offered Trovato money to disappear. Trovato had taken the bribe rather than remaining loyal to him. Dario had waited for days in the hospital, in pain, sure his friend would defy his father’s version of events and come to see him… But he never had. And then Dario had known everything his father had said was true. Trovato had not gone to get help after the accident, he had run, and he had only befriended Dario in the first place because his father had money… Something Trovato had always yearned for.
He could see the questions in Tallulah’s expressive face about his animosity towards his sister’s choice of husband, but before she could ask any of them, themaggiordomoopened the door to a large drawing room, announced their arrival, and closed the door behind them to give them privacy.
He spotted his sister and Trovato standing together near an impressive fireplace, waiting to greet them. The room’s expensive antique furniture and forbidding grandeur did nothing to dim the excitement and expectation on his sister’s face. But as Dario’s gaze landed on Trovato, the man tensed, and the weight in Dario’s stomach twisted, the bitterness so sharp he could taste it.
They looked like a unit, with his sister positioned in front of Trovato. The Sicilian had his hand on Mia’s shoulder—his stance both possessive and protective. As if Mia needed protecting from her own brother, instead of the man who was trying to exploit her.
The thought of the difficult conversation he had in his near future with Mia made resentment flare in his gut. Forcing him into this situation was just another of Trovato’s betrayals—a way to drive a final wedge between Dario and the only family he had left.
His relationship with Mia had become increasingly difficult ever since they had left Capri and their once carefree childhoods behind. He knew part of that distance was his fault. He’d tried to look out for Mia. She’d been so young and much more vulnerable than him when their lives had been torn apart. And her passionate nature, her stubborn pride, her generous heart and her foolish lack of caution had left her open to exploitation. Her blank refusal to accept his financial help had only made matters worse—frustrating him and forcing her to seek employment with men like Trovato, who would exploit their connection.
But something about the way they stood so close together, the wary look in Trovato’s eyes, pricked his memory. He sealed off the thought and gripped Tallulah’s hand to walk towards them. Tallulah’s telltale shiver of response to his touch felt strangely vindicating. Despite the frustrations their fake relationship had caused, he was grateful in that moment to have her by his side, because facing this bastard and his sister alone would somehow be harder.
‘Dario…’ Mia whispered, then left Trovato’s side to rush to them both.‘Grazie mille, Dario, tu venuto!’He could see the genuine pleasure to see him in her bright smile and the affection in her eyes as she greeted him.
‘I said I would come,’ he murmured, switching to English.
The unguarded happiness in her expression dimmed. And he had a sudden recollection of the puppy she’d once brought to Westwick Hall, on one of the rare occasions they’d spent the summer there. It was the summer he had brought Trovato home with him from boarding school because his friend had had nowhere else to go. Mia had adored that puppy and been desperate to keep the pet, but their father—when he arrived—had been furious to see the mongrel dog. Mia had been devastated when their father had the puppy taken from her and returned to the nearby farm where she’d found it.
Of course, Dario was the cause of her sadness today. But he forced himself not to acknowledge the prickle of guilt. Sentimentality would not help this situation. And he had always had Mia’s best interests at heart, unlike their father, who had only ever cared about appearances. And unlike Trovato, who had shown his true colours by abandoning Dario to his fate after that accident. Trovato had taken their father’s blood money after the crash and used it to build an empire. And now he intended to take Dario’s sister from him, too.
To hell with that.
‘This must be your fiancée,’ Mia declared, the too bright smile back as she turned to Tallulah, no doubt desperate to break the tension between Dario and her fiancé. Reaching out, she grasped Tallulah’s free hand, the warmth in her expression making Tallulah’s blush brighten. ‘It’s so wonderful to meet you, Tallulah. I read all about your whirlwind affair with my brother this morning inRagazzamagazine. About how you are the beauty who has tamed the playboy… This is indeed a feat.’ His sister’s delighted laugh pricked at Dario’s conscience. He would have mentioned to his sister his marriage was a stunt to gain ownership of their mother’s palazzo, but given she was now firmly under Trovato’s spell, he could no longer trust her.
