The Italians: Cristiano, Vittorio and Dario: Once a Ferrara Wife... / A Dark Sicilian Secret / Blackmailed Bride, Innocent Wife. Jane Porter
Everything except for the dangerous chemistry that sizzled between them.
Even as doubts and obstacles rose in her mind, the firm pressure of his hand on hers flicked sparks of excitement through her body.
When she’d stalked out of the villa she’d been absolutely sure of what she was doing.
When he’d stumbled into the airport, she’d still been sure.
When he’d handed her that velvet box she’d thought, Here we go again—he’s going to try and buy his way out of trouble.
And then he’d given her that old rusty key, splintering her jaded expectations and piquing her curiosity.
Material goods didn’t interest her much, mostly because she knew they were easy to come by for him.
But this was something different. He was different.
And this new Cristiano was infinitely more dangerous than the old one because she had no idea how to handle him. When he was on the attack, she attacked right back. When he was arrogant and controlling, she wielded her own brand of power and took him on. But this Cristiano—this humble, penitent, remorseful Cristiano was a person she hadn’t met before.
Confused, she looked away, thinking how unfair it was that the roughness of his jaw and his vaguely dishevelled appearance somehow made his dark Sicilian looks even more spectacular.
‘Just because I’m sitting in this car, don’t assume I’ve forgiven you.’
‘I don’t expect you to forgive me that easily.’ ‘Tell me what the key opens.’
A ghost of a smile touched that mouth. ‘If I tell you that there is no reason for you to come with me. I’m relying on your inquisitive nature to provide the opportunity for me to show you how much I love you.’
He spoke the words easily. He always had, she remembered. For months, she’d struggled to get them past her lips whereas he’d experienced no such barriers to expressing himself.
But, in the end, that love hadn’t revealed itself in his actions.
And now?
She stared down at the key in her lap. ‘I promised myself that I wasn’t going to do this. I promised myself that no matter what you said or did, I wasn’t going to change my mind.’
All she’d cared about was protecting herself from more pain and yet somehow here she was, back in his car and in his life, cocooned by expensive leather and the smell of luxury with that dangerous, incendiary chemistry threatening everything she’d worked so hard to leave behind.
If he’d released her hand it might have helped, but he didn’t. His fingers were wrapped hard around hers as he started the engine, and she knew he was fully aware of what his touch did to her and had no compunction in exploiting that advantage shamelessly.
Despairing of herself, Laurel leaned her head back against the seat. ‘Give me one reason why I should do this.’
‘Because I deserve another chance.’ The engine gave a deep, throaty growl. ‘Because what we have is special enough to keep fighting for.’
Was it?
Finally he released her hand but only so that he could place his on the wheel and steer them out of the nightmare traffic that clogged the airport road.
Whether this was a good idea or not, it was too late to rethink it because he found a gap in the traffic, pressed his foot to the floor and sped out of the airport.
CRISTIANO drove fast, skilfully dodging the heavy morning traffic until the road cleared. He pressed his foot to the floor and the car shot forward like a racehorse towards the finishing line, lightning-fast. Laurel smiled slightly as she felt the burst of speed and power because she loved it as much as he did.
Or maybe it was just because the top of the car was down and the sun was shining down on them, making everything impossible seem possible.
It was all still there, of course—the doubts, the worry and that other nagging emotion that he knew nothing about. But right now, with the breeze lifting her hair and the sun warming her face, she could push it to the back of her mind.
She wouldn’t have admitted it in a million years, but she loved to watch him drive. Loved the confidence with which he handled the car, the subtle movement of his fingers as he shifted gears, the flex of powerful thigh muscle as he urged the car forward. Cristiano made driving a car sexy. To her, everything he did was sexy and that incurable attraction had always been her downfall.
Dragging her eyes away from temptation, Laurel anchored her hair with her hand and glanced over her shoulder. ‘No security?’
‘I think I may have run them over when I left the villa. I was in a hurry.’ His swift smile managed to be disarming and devastating at the same time. ‘Don’t worry. I’m capable of protecting you and anyway, there is security where we are going.’
‘Oh.’ Her hopes of staying somewhere discreet and private dashed by that revelation, Laurel tried not to feel disappointed that there would be other people around. ‘Where are we going?’
‘It’s a surprise. But you can trust me to have your happiness at the forefront of my list of priorities.’
She could have pointed out that her happiness had been right at the bottom of his list of priorities in the past but she could see he was trying so she bit her tongue and said nothing.
‘Have I been there before?’ ‘Not exactly.’
Resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to reveal anything before he was ready, she leaned her head back against the seat and just watched the countryside. ‘We’re driving towards Mount Etna. You’re going to drop me into the crater of an active volcano and finish me off for good?’
‘Tempting.’ The corners of his mouth flickered. ‘And yes, we’re driving towards Mount Etna.’
Her eyes fastened on the peak in the distance. ‘I’ve always loved this part of Sicily.’
‘I know.’ They were off the autostrade now and climbing upwards, the car waltzing round the bends under Cristiano’s expert control.
‘Taormina?’ Her heart gave a little jump as she realised where they were going. ‘You’re taking me to Taormina?’ It was the place they’d spent part of their honeymoon and she’d been dizzy with the romance of the place. Yes, it was a favourite tourist haunt but with good reason. It was stunning.
The medieval town that had inspired poets and authors for centuries perched on the cliff whilst beneath lay the sparkling perfection of the Mediterranean, its surface reflecting all the colours of a peacock’s wing.
As the sea breeze lifted her hair and cooled her skin, Laurel’s smile faltered. ‘Are we going back to the same hotel?’
‘No. I wish you’d trust me.’
‘I’m trying.’
‘Try harder.’
That was all he would say and she held her breath as he negotiated a narrow road, one side of which fell into an almost vertical drop down to the sea.
This was Sicily at its most spectacular, mountains and sea coming together in dramatic perfection and there, carved into the hillside, was the Teatro Greco, the ruins of the ancient Greek theatre that was one of the most famous archaeological sites in Sicily.
It was the most breathtakingly seductive place she’d ever visited.
Leaving Taormina behind them, he drove on and Laurel was just coping with the thud of disappointment that this wasn’t their destination after all when he stopped