The Chatsfield: Series 2. Кейт Хьюит
lashed out. ‘Did you seriously not question why a complete stranger would agree to marry you? Are you so arrogant? So full of your own importance that it didn’t even seem strange?’
Not waiting for an answer, she went on. ‘I mean, who in their right mind would agree to marry a man who has links to the Mafia?’
Gianni went very still, not that he’d been moving around much before, but Keelin had felt his restless energy. And now it was as if he had sensed his prey and every muscle was locked tight in preparation to pounce. His hands were out of his pockets and by his sides, hands curled to fists.
Shivers raced over Keelin’s skin. She’d pushed a button. A big one. And it didn’t make her feel a sense of triumph.
He was cold. ‘I do not have links to the Mafia.’
Keelin pushed down a sense of having stepped over a huge mark. ‘But your father—’
He cut her off brutally. ‘My father is dead, and you will not mention this again. Damn you.’
Keelin had only the merest sliver of warning before Gianni’s arms reached out to grab her upper arms and he hauled her into his chest, his mouth covering hers with such precision that she wondered if somehow he’d read her mind and known that she’d been thinking about that kiss endlessly since last night.
And just as she’d feared, being kissed by him again was setting off a chain reaction of tumbling all of her defences like dominoes, making her pliant, making between her legs throb and ache. Her hands were caught between them and from somewhere that hadn’t yet been enslaved by his touch she curled her hands to fists and pushed, wrenching her head back.
She opened her eyes and saw nothing but black. She pushed herself free, out of his hands, and stepped back shakily. ‘I don’t want this, I don’t want you.’
Gianni’s mouth twisted. ‘You might not want this situation but you want me, as much as I want you.’
And then before she could respond, he said, ‘Are you a chess player, Keelin?’
It was clearly a rhetorical question when he continued, ‘I’m not willing to call this wedding and merger off, not in a million years. And you can’t walk away because you’ll be left out in the cold—so it would appear that we have a stalemate.’
The air seemed to throb and shimmer between them with heat and tension, and Gianni stared at her for such a long moment that Keelin almost begged him to stop, but then he lifted his hand and looked at the watch on his wrist. He looked at her again, coolness in his eyes now. ‘A stylist and hair and make-up team are on their way here to get you ready for the party. They told me it would take that long to get rid of the day-glo look. I’ll be back later to pick you up.’
Clearly nothing she’d said had made one dent in his bid to secure this deal with her father. He was steamrollering ahead and taking her with him.
She put her hands on her hips, aware of the little betraying tremor. ‘Now wait just a minute, if you think that I’m going to—’
The words died in her throat when Gianni stalked closer, a look of dangerous intent on his face. Perversely it didn’t scare Keelin that he might kiss her again; it excited her. But he didn’t.
‘This marriage is happening, Keelin. Now more than ever. And if you don’t start washing off that persona you’ve been playing with for the past forty-eight hours, then I’ll be more than happy to take you to the shower to help you. So what’s it to be?’
THAT EVENING GIANNI was still struggling to control his temper. When Keelin had mentioned his father and Mafia he’d seen red. For some reason the fact that she’d levelled that accusation at him had stung more than most. Enough to want to silence her by putting his mouth over hers and losing himself in the inferno of need that had spiralled up through his body, almost taking his head off.
Cristo. No woman had ever made him so hot, or hot-headed, in his life. Up until now he’d chosen women he desired but none of them had made him feel out of control enough to want to devour them, or had reduced him almost to some kind of animalistic state. And that made him very nervous. He’d considered his father an animal whenever he’d come home drunk and taken out his aggression on his wife. Or when he’d disappeared for days on end only to reappear with money and blood-spattered clothes.
His father’s poisonous legacy was something Gianni desperately wanted to dissociate himself from. It symbolised everything that was dark and violent and base. And that was not him. Yet, he took one look at Keelin and felt nothing but feral desire. Disconcerting as it was, he was sure that once he’d slaked his desire, her hold on him would decrease.
He’d changed in the dressing room attached to his office and the classic tuxedo he wore now made him feel constricted when it never had before. He could remember his first occasion wearing a tuxedo to a glittery event and how for the first time in his life he’d received looks of admiration, respect.
As constricting as the suit might feel right now, this was what separated him from his father’s legacy—this ability to appreciate the fine things in life and to know that the way forward was through promoting integrity and honesty. Building a business to be proud of. The business his grandfather had set up, before his own son had taken it and crushed it to the ground.
Earlier, when Gianni’s assistant had shown stylists with clothes rails and an assortment of other suitably qualified people up to his apartment, he’d found himself almost relishing the thought of Keelin’s expression when she knew she had no choice but to comply.
But then his conscience smarted when he thought of what she’d revealed about her reasons for wanting out of this marriage. He’d scoffed at her intentions to be a part of her family’s business, yet didn’t she have that right? After all, at least he’d had the shell of his grandfather’s business to build an empire upon and after a lot of blood and sweat and ingenuity he was finally here, or would be, once he merged with O’Connor.
He had to admit that Keelin’s evident determination to succeed no matter what inspired a grudging sense of kinship within him. But he couldn’t let the niggle of his conscience sway him. He needed this deal. Now more than ever.
His chief executive advisor had just informed him that the very rumour that Delucca Emporium was merging with O’Connor Foods had caused a soar in stocks. The news wouldn’t be officially announced until the day after the wedding took place—as per O’Connor’s request, even though they’d already signed contracts.
So he couldn’t afford to let this momentum drop now. He needed every ounce of positive press to convince people he could be trusted, and as much as he might sympathise with Keelin’s bid for independence, she was not going to stand in his way. He’d worked too hard for this chance.
* * *
Keelin hated that she felt bizarrely excited. She should be steamingly angry. The threat of Gianni washing the spray tan off her body himself had been enough to galvanise her into the bathroom earlier that day, locking herself inside and scowling when she heard his mocking, ‘Later, cara,’ through the door.
A veritable army had then appeared in the apartment when she’d emerged from the shower with skin pink from scrubbing and had proceeded to take her in hand, undoing all of the hard work she’d put in to appear as trashy as possible.
And now she hated to admit that she didn’t look a million miles off what she’d choose to look like, if she didn’t have a war of personal independence on her hands.
She was wearing a strapless dark green dress that made her eyes stand out. Fitted around her breasts, it fell in soft swirls of silk and chiffon from below her bust to the floor where she wore delicate high-heeled sandals.
She was back to her habitual paleness, and felt a little naked now without the copious