The Italian Seduction. Mary Lyons
pressure, which had always proved an invaluable tool in any negotiation.
In the present case, he had nothing to go on. No idea of what made this woman ‘tick’. Nor, indeed, what on earth had persuaded her to take up such an extraordinarily bizarre occupation.
As the limousine began gathering speed, and they continued their progress through Hyde Park, Lorenzo leaned back in his seat, giving him a better view of the tall, slim figure of the blonde sitting beside him.
She was definitely not his type, he told himself firmly. He had never been attracted to this sort of arrogant, domineering female, who clearly considered herself the equal of any man.
In fact, almost without exception, his girlfriends had always been dark, slender and petite, with an enchanting air of delicate fragility. And, while it was true that some had been tiresome—either totally self-absorbed, or given to amazing displays of temperament—they had never, under any circumstances, made the mistake of trying to push him around. Nor would they have dreamed of trying to tell him what he could and could not do!
On the other hand…if he hadn’t been so annoyed with her, he might be prepared to admit that Antonia Simpson was a highly attractive, good-looking woman. He’d certainly thought so when she’d first marched into his suite, earlier this evening.
Allowing his gaze to sweep over the firm breasts, clearly outlined as she raised a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and the short skirt of her dress, displaying long, slim legs encased in sheer black silk stockings, merely confirmed his first impression.
However, by the time their vehicle was finally approaching the Albert Hall, Lorenzo had abruptly changed his mind again.
Neither the use of as much charm as he could summon up under the circumstances nor—as a desperate last resort—his frank offer of bribery and corruption had in any way managed to dent the cool self-possession of this extraordinary young woman.
‘Relax, Signor Foscari!’ she’d told him with a wide, unusually enchanting smile, which suddenly had the effect of making her appear almost beautiful. ‘Believe me, I really appreciate that Italian charm of yours! But unfortunately trying to sweet-talk me into abandoning the job I’ve been hired to do is a pure waste of your time.
‘And I’m afraid that offering me a great deal of money to get out of your life won’t work either,’ she’d added, with another broad, ironic grin. ‘Unfortunately, I have a contract with your insurance company. And, until they dismiss me, I’m afraid that you and I will just have to put up with one another. Capisce?’
He probably deserved that last, verbal slap in the face, Lorenzo told himself grimly. And, while he might actively dislike the girl sitting next to him, he had to admit that she was proving to be a quite impressive adversary.
However, the situation in which he found himself was still utterly intolerable. And he certainly had no intention of putting up with her appointment—or of allowing himself to be swayed by that enchanting smile—one moment longer than he had to.
But even as he rallied his forces—pointing out that he could not gain admittance to the concert hall without a ticket, which he’d unfortunately left behind in his hotel room—the damned woman merely gave a brief shrug of her slim shoulders.
‘There’s no problem. I picked it up from the hall table before we left your suite,’ she said, clearly enjoying his discomfiture as she removed the ticket from her handbag.
‘And what about you?’ he demanded, through gritted teeth, as their vehicle drew to a halt outside the concert hall. ‘Exactly how are you planning to spend the evening? Standing outside my friends’ box for three hours, until the end of the performance, doesn’t sound much fun.’
‘I’m not being paid a great deal of money just to have fun,’ she retorted dismissively, before opening the car door, and he found himself being swiftly escorted inside the large dome of the Albert Hall.
‘Hi, there! We were just beginning to wonder if you’d make it here tonight,’ Giles Harding called out, hurrying through the crowd towards him.
‘O, ye of little faith.’ Lorenzo grinned at his old friend, before turning to greet Giles’s wife, Susie Harding.
Busy chatting to Susie, and catching up with their family’s news, he just about managed to temporarily forget Antonia. However, if he’d hoped to have seen the last of her—for a few hours, at least—he was doomed to disappointment.
‘Aha! You lucky dog! I might have known that you’d turn up with a gorgeous girlfriend in tow,’ Giles murmured with a grin, giving him a sharp dig in the ribs as he spotted the tall girl standing behind the tall Italian.
‘I’m so glad you could join us,’ Giles said, taking her arm with a beaming smile, before Lorenzo had a chance to explain that Miss Simpson was most definitely not his girlfriend.
‘There’s no problem with seats, since two of our guests had to cancel at the last minute,’ Giles added, handing her a drink, before quickly introducing her to his wife.
Chatting idly with his friends’ guests—a rather boring banker and his wife—amidst the noise of loud voices and laughter in the large bar, Lorenzo realised that there was virtually nothing he could do about the situation.
It placed him in an awkward position, of course. On the other hand, he certainly didn’t want to have to go into long, tedious explanations of why he apparently needed protection. Especially as he was almost certain that his old friends would find the highly embarrassing, humiliating fact that he was being forced to put up with a female bodyguard absolutely hilarious.
Initially surprised to find herself being greeted as his girlfriend, Antonia had glanced enquiringly at Lorenzo, indicating her willingness to go along with the scenario.
In her job, she’d frequently been called upon to act the part of a devoted wife or loving fiancée—especially when engaged in undercover work, such as trailing a suspect. So assuming the role of Lorenzo’s girlfriend wasn’t likely to be too difficult.
And maybe…maybe, if he’d made even the slightest effort to act his part, she might not have lost her temper with the foul man. But, after clearly deciding to let Giles Harding believe that she was his latest popsy, Lorenzo had proceeded to totally ignore her, turning his back and chatting to his friends and their guests as if he’d never even heard of her existence.
Goodness knows, she’d already had to put up with quite enough of his nonsense this evening. Besides, she wasn’t stupid. She could easily understand why he hadn’t corrected his friend’s mistake. But there was no excuse for him to behave in such a boorish fashion.
In fact, it was the way he was trying to have his cake—and eat it too—which finally tipped her over the edge.
As the bell rang, signalling that the performance was about to start, and the crowd began moving out of the bar towards the auditorium, she adroitly moved up behind Lorenzo’s tall figure, before casually slipping her arm through his.
‘Sweetie! You weren’t thinking of leaving me behind, were you?’ she exclaimed with a light ripple of laughter, before raising her head to give him a wide, beaming smile.
Rewarded by the sudden tensing of his tall body, and the brief look of horror flickering over his handsome, tanned face, Antonia turned to smile at the Hardings and their guests.
‘I’m so pleased that darling Lorenzo brought me here tonight. I’ve been longing to see this opera for ages. Such a treat!’ she told them, with another warm, happy smile, maintaining a firm grip on his arm as they entered the box.
Swiftly glancing around the red plush interior, which hadn’t changed since the days of Queen Victoria, Antonia quickly identified the perfect position for her client. Letting go of Lorenzo’s arm, she casually edged a nearby chair into a position which would shield him from any possible assassin in the audience—while still allowing him a good sight of the large stage below.
‘Why don’t you sit here, darling?’