Enemies at the Altar. Melanie Milburne
The receptionist’s eyes widened as they took in Sienna’s travel-worn appearance. ‘I’m not sure …’ she began uncertainly.
‘Tell him if he doesn’t see me right now the wedding won’t go ahead,’ Sienna said with a don’t-mess-with-me look.
The receptionist reached for the intercom and spoke in Italian to Andreas. ‘There’s a young woman here who claims to be your fiancée. Do you want me to call Security?’
Andreas’s deep mellifluous voice sounded over the system. ‘Tell her to wait in Reception.’
Sienna leaned over the desk and swung the speaker her way. ‘Get your butt out here, Andreas. We have things to discuss.’
‘The boardroom,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes.’
‘Out here now,’ Sienna said through gritted teeth.
‘Cara,’ he drawled, ‘such impatience fires my blood. Have you missed me terribly?’
Sienna pasted a false smile on her face for the sake of the receptionist. ‘Darling, you can’t imagine how awful it’s been without your arms around me. I’m going crazy for you. It’s been absolute torture to be without your kisses, your touch and your body doing all those wonderful things to—’
‘Let’s keep some things private, shall we?’ he interjected coolly.
Sienna smiled at the now goggle-eyed receptionist. ‘You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he has the most amazingly huge—’
‘Sienna,’ Andreas clipped out, ‘get in here right now.’
Sienna slipped off the desk and gave the receptionist a fingertip wave. ‘Isn’t he adorable?’
The boardroom was empty by the time Sienna arrived. Andreas had a face like thunder and the air was crackling with palpable tension.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he asked even before she had closed the door.
Sienna threw him a contemptuous glare. ‘Apparently we’re engaged,’ she said, clicking the door shut with considerable force. ‘I read about it in the press.’
His mouth went to a flat line. ‘I’m not the one who leaked that to the media.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘You know what they say about a woman scorned.’
Sienna raised her brows. ‘Perfect Portia did that? Wow, I bet she didn’t read that in the Good Girl’s Guide to Avoiding Social Slip-Ups.’
His brows snapped together. ‘I was about to ask her to marry me,’ he said. ‘She has a right to be upset.’
‘My heart bleeds,’ Sienna said on an exaggerated sigh.
He threw her a flinty look. ‘Bitch.’
She smiled at him sweetly. ‘Bastard.’
The air crackled some more.
Andreas paced the floor, his hand tracking another ragged pathway through the thick pelt of his hair. ‘We have to find a way to manage this,’ he said. ‘Six months and we’ll be free of this. I’ve looked at it from every angle. There’s no way out of it. We just have to do what’s expected. We can both win.’
Sienna pulled out one of the ergonomic chairs and sat down, swinging it from side to side as she watched him work the floor. ‘What’s in it for me?’ she asked.
He stopped pacing to look at her, his frown deepening. ‘What do you mean what’s in it for you? You get a truckload of money at the end of it.’
She held his hazel gaze. ‘I want more.’
His mouth tightened even further. ‘How much more?’
‘How about double?’
His jaw worked for a moment. ‘A quarter.’
‘A third,’ she said, holding his look.
He slammed his hands on the table right in front of her, his face so close to hers she could smell the good quality coffee on his breath. ‘Damn you to hell and back, you’re not getting any more,’ he said. ‘The deal stands as it stands. I’m not negotiating on it.’
Sienna rolled her chair back and rose to her feet in one fluid movement. ‘I guess that’s it then,’ she said. ‘If you want me to marry you then you’ll have to pay for the privilege.’
She was at the door when he finally spoke. ‘All right,’ he said on a heavily expelled breath. ‘I’ll give you a third on top of what my father bequeathed to you.’
Sienna turned to face him. ‘You want that chateau real bad, don’t you?’
His expression was rigid with tension. ‘It belonged to my mother,’ he said. ‘I will do anything it takes to keep it out of the hands of my greedy, profligate second cousin.’
‘Even marry me?’
He gave a humourless chuckle. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I can actually think of worse things than marrying you.’
‘Your imagination is streets ahead of mine because I can’t think of anything worse than being married to you,’ she said as she resumed her seat.
The air tightened like a steel cable.
Sienna felt his gaze run over her. It felt like a hot caress on her skin. His eyes seemed to sear the flesh off her bones. She felt naked under his scrutiny.
But then he had seen her naked, or almost.
She cringed at the memory. She had wanted him to be her first lover. She had dreamt about it for months. She had fantasised about him rescuing her from the life of drudgery she and her mother had been forced to live. All those years of never knowing what house they would be living in next. Not knowing what school or suburb she would be residing in. Her childhood had been a patchwork of packing up and leaving, of trying to fit in a new place, of trying to make friends with people who already had enough friends. She had always felt the odd one out. She didn’t belong upstairs or downstairs.
But everything had changed when her mother had got the position as housekeeper at the Ferrante villa in Rome. It was the most stunning property, with fabulous gardens and a massive swimming pool and tennis court. It had felt like paradise after years of living in a variety of cramped and mouldy inner city flats.
It had been the first time in her life Sienna had seen her mother truly happy and settled. She hadn’t wanted it to end. In her immature mind she’d had it all planned. Andreas, the son and heir of the Ferrante fortune, would fall in love with her and marry her. He was the handsome playboy prince, she was the pretty but penniless pauper, but their love and desire for each other would overcome that. She had been determined that he would notice her for once instead of treating her like an annoying puppy that hadn’t been properly housetrained. To him, she had always been the cleaning lady’s brat. He had even called her enfant terrible.
But this night it would be different. He hadn’t been home in months. This time he would see the change in her. He would see her for the sexually mature young woman she had believed herself to be.
She had seen his hazel eyes follow her all evening when she had helped bring in the family’s meal. She had sensed his male appraisal as she brought in the coffee and liqueurs to the salone. His nostrils had flared when she had leant down to place his cup beside him, as if he was breathing in her fragrance. Her hair had brushed against his arm and she had felt the electric current of awareness shoot through her body. He had looked at her then with those green and brown-flecked eyes of his and she had known he wanted her.
She had felt it.
She had waited for him in his bedroom, draping herself alluringly across his bed, dressed only in her knickers and bra, nervous but excited at the same time. Her body had tingled all over in anticipation.
The