The Mediterranean Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain. ABBY GREEN
some divine force. And if it hadn’t been for Stefano Arrigi plucking him and his brother from the streets when he had, who knew where he—they—might have ended up…?
He cursed the woman for making him think of these things. He knew rationally that he couldn’t entirely blame her as he’d never publicized his background—oh, the information was there, he couldn’t move without someone commenting on it—but he’d learnt the hard way that once you had money people didn’t much care how you’d got it, and yet Alicia’s condemnation had cut him in a tender place. And he had no idea why. She was a complete stranger to him.
He didn’t seek pity from anyone. Especially when he had such a bitter memory of the one and only time he had told someone the truth—a woman. And yet he felt instinctively that this woman would somehow empathise. Or, more accurately, pretend to.
He stood abruptly, making some papers fall from the desk. The sooner they got to England and sorted this farce out the better. And the sooner he made sure this woman had no recourse or claim, however bogus, on his life, the better. He vowed that within the day he would be back in his villa on Lake Como, any threat from these women nullified and eradicated.
Dante returned to the main cabin just as the plane was landing and Alicia studiously avoided looking anywhere near him. She trembled inside. Watching the ground below become clearer and clearer, she could make out fields, buildings, tiny cars…she realized then that she hadn’t told him where to go but they were in fact circling over the Oxford area.
She turned around. ‘How did you know where to come? I never told you.’
She was relieved to see him buttoned up, suit jacket on.
‘I know because it didn’t take much to find out.’
Alicia had to consciously stop her gaze from dropping to his mouth, the strong brown column of his throat. ‘Oh…’
‘You never did tell me what you want the money for exactly, or how much… You pulled your fainting stunt just before you did. Which was, no doubt, designed somewhat crudely to arouse sympathy.’ His tone was conversational, bored even.
Alicia’s heart hardened. The man was a bastard. She hated him. He had hurt Melanie unforgivably.
She tried to keep her voice steady but it was a struggle. Briefly, she told him of Melanie’s injuries. ‘She’s going to need the expert ongoing care of one of the best gynaecologists in the UK who specializes in post trauma cases, and he is only available privately. Even if we had the money, he’s based in central London, so we would have to move closer in order to see him once a week. Melanie won’t be able to withstand a lengthy public transport journey. He works in Harley Street. You do the maths.’ She flung the last words at him in a fit of pique at his lack of expression. Tears stung her eyes again. Damn it, if Melanie or the baby suffered because of this man… She turned away in despair. She wouldn’t be surprised if when they landed he threw her from the plane and closed the door only to take off, back to Italy.
Dante watched the slim column of her throat work in profile. Was she really upset or was this part of the game? As if he had to ask. He had thought for a brief moment of seeing her out of the plane door, closing it behind her and taking off immediately. But he knew he couldn’t. Melanie Parker was a reality. She was associated with him. It would be an easy story to sell and he was damned if he’d let her.
He focused on his recent conversation with his assistant in Italy. They were still unable to track down his younger brother. His mouth tightened. If this pregnancy was genuine, Paolo D’Aquanni had a lot to answer for.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘YOUR sister has been conscious for a few hours now. We’re cautiously optimistic that she’s not going to lapse again.’
Alicia felt weak with relief. ‘And the baby?’
The ward sister nodded. ‘The baby is doing fine.’ She shook her head incredulously. ‘It’s a miracle really how it survived the impact of the crash but, as you know, this is only the first step. She’s going to need constant care to ensure its healthy progress. It’s such a relief that Paolo has managed to make the first appointment for Mel to see Dr Hardy in London in a couple of weeks. I was afraid it’d be too short notice.’
Alicia’s back tensed; she felt Dante straighten beside her. She struggled to interpret the words she’d just heard. ‘What are you talking about? Who is Paolo?’
Her friend gave her a funny look. ‘Why, Mel’s boyfriend, of course, silly. He arrived last night. He stayed in the chair beside her bed, absolutely besotted.’ She bustled towards the ward, guiding them in. ‘She’s still very weak, so maybe don’t make it a long visit today, OK?’
Alicia felt herself nod dumbly. She still couldn’t process the words. She was vaguely aware of Dante behind her, his hand moving to her back, propelling her forward. She moved, but didn’t know how. They were in a ward of four beds, the curtains pulled around her sister’s. Somehow instinctively Alicia just knew that everything was about to fall apart.
And when she pulled back the curtain she nearly fainted for the second time in two days.
‘Lissy…’ Melanie’s weakened voice was a thread of its normal chatty vitality but Alicia couldn’t even look at her yet. She couldn’t move. She stared in abject mounting horror at a younger, slightly less good looking, slightly smaller version of Dante D’Aquanni. She had to be so exhausted that she was hallucinating. That was it—extreme tiredness and stress… She raised a hand to her head.
‘Lissy? Are you OK?’
Finally she turned to look at her sister and blanched when she saw her still too pale face, one livid scar still across her forehead. But a hint of colour warmed her cheeks under the sickly pallor and the sight of her bump under the bedclothes was reassuring. Alicia nodded her head jerkily.
An autocratic hand propelled her towards a chair beside the bed. Melanie reached out a hand and took Alicia’s in hers. ‘What is it? The nurses said you’d been gone since yesterday… Where did you—’
Melanie broke off and looked from Alicia to Dante D’Aquanni, who she’d just noticed. Out of the corner of her eye, Alicia saw the younger man stand, bristling.
Melanie’s voice sounded strained and Alicia could see this man take her hand in support. ‘Mr D’Aquanni… What are you doing here?’
Dante stepped forward into the light and seemed to Alicia to energise the small space. ‘Your sister here seems to be under the misapprehension that I am the father of your unborn child.’ Alicia couldn’t be unaware of the way his glance flicked down to the bump of her sister’s belly, as if to confirm for himself that she had been telling the truth.
Melanie looked at Alicia. ‘How…what…however did you get that idea?’
Alicia fought valiantly against sinking into the ground into the comfort of another dead faint. She couldn’t look at Dante.
‘When I came here last week, you were feverish…I asked you who had done this to you and all you said was, “Dante D’Aquanni,” his was the only name you mentioned… You said you’d been on your way to see him. You asked me to find him for you…’
‘I did?’
Alicia smiled sadly. This wasn’t Melanie’s fault. ‘You probably don’t remember.’
Melanie groaned and glanced at the young man beside her shyly. ‘I had been on my way to see Mr D’Aquanni.’ She glanced at him then with a little trepidation. ‘But it was only to ask him to bring back Paolo…’
‘Paolo…’ Alicia repeated dumbly.
Dante spoke then, and Alicia flinched slightly at the harshness of his tone. ‘Paolo D’Aquanni—the man your sister was having an affair with at the office. My brother.’
His words seemed to come from far away. Alicia looked across