HELEN BIANCHIN - The Italian’s Ruthless Marriage Command

He indicated the stairs and they began descending to the lower floor.

‘You think I’m attempting to buy Ben’s affection?’

She shot him a startled look. ‘A puppy is a perfect gift. Casey didn’t feel Ben should grow up thinking he could have anything he wants.’

He indicated the library, followed her in, then gestured towards a comfortable leather chair.

‘I fly out to New York on Monday for a few days, possibly longer,’ he revealed as he crossed to lean a hip against the antique desk. ‘You can contact me via my cellphone. You have the number.’

‘I’m sure it won’t be necessary.’

No, it probably wouldn’t. She was efficient, capable and considered Ben her main priority.

He slanted an eyebrow and his mouth curved in to form a light smile. ‘You could always call and say hello .’

‘I wouldn’t think of disturbing you.’

Did she have any idea the pulse at the base of her throat quickened in beat whenever she was in his presence?

Her controlled persona was a façade…and he wondered what lay beneath it.

He’d given her no reason to be wary of him, yet she wasn’t comfortable…and he was sufficiently intrigued to discover why.

In time.

‘I’ll set up a computer here, with a web-cam. It’ll enable Ben to have daily visual contact with me.’

He had the sudden urge to ruffle her composure, see those beautiful eyes dilate and watch the pulse at the base of her throat thud into a quickened beat.

Her reaction intrigued him…as she did. So outwardly practical. Laudable, but it was what lay beneath that held his interest. Had done so for quite some time. Yet distance and the pressure of business worked against him. Now, given unforeseen circumstance, he had all the time in the world.

‘If that’s all you wanted,’ Taylor offered as she rose to her feet, ‘I’ll say goodnight…and thank you.’

His eyes became faintly hooded, and a slow smile curved his generous mouth. ‘Thank me for what, precisely?’

‘Making the effort to ensure the transition is as easy as possible for Ben.’

He inclined his head. ‘And you, Taylor?’ he pursued softly. ‘Has the transition into my home, my life, been easy for you?’

No . She wanted to say he had to know that, for it disturbed her how well he appeared to read her.

‘I’m sure the arrangement will work out well,’ she concurred politely. With that, she moved to the door, opened it and escaped into the wide hallway, uncaring whether Dante followed or not.

The acquisition of a puppy proved a huge success, together with kennel, puppy toys, bowls and various trappings a well-cared-for puppy should have. Rosie, for the Llasa Apso Ben chose was female, lapped up all the loving attention Ben offered, and returned it in kind. Dante’s absence in New York provided Taylor with a welcome break from his presence, although his image was there every evening at a prearranged time via the computer webcam as he chatted to Ben.

Taylor was careful to keep her conversation to a minimum, offering a polite greeting on connection, followed by an equally polite ‘goodnight’ prior to deactivating the web-cam.

Did he guess at her apparent reluctance to participate in more than a perfunctory sentence or two? Undoubtedly. For she glimpsed the slight curve at the edge of his mouth, the faint musing gleam in his dark eyes.

It was Ben who relayed a birthday invitation for Sunday.

‘My friend Tamryn is having a party because she is going to be four. Taylor is taking me, and I wondered if you could come, too. Please, Zio. Will you be home in time?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Dante assured. ‘Taylor can give me the details tomorrow evening.’

‘Cool.’

Sunday provided sunshine and crisp temperatures, and Ben’s excitement was engaging as the time to leave for the party drew close.

‘Everyone from kindy is going to be at Tamryn’s house.’

Taylor dropped a kiss on the top of his head. ‘You’ll have lots of fun.’

His eyes shone with anticipation. ‘Tamryn says there’s going to be a clown, and rides, and a huge big rubber house to play in.’ He barely paused for breath. ‘Can we go now?’

‘Sure we can.’ She picked up the brightly wrapped present with its fun card. ‘Shall we say goodbye to Anna first?’

‘And Claude,’ Ben added. ‘He’s in the garden.’

It didn’t take long, and the adherence to good manners brought forth a smile as both Anna and her husband bade Ben goodbye and hoped he enjoyed the party.

The invitation stated two o’clock, and Taylor drew the car into the kerb outside a large, stately home in suburban Woollahra.

A security guard manned the gate, checking invitations as guests arrived and offering directions to the rear of the grounds, where the party was set up.

‘There’s Tamryn.’

Taylor felt the sudden tightening of Ben’s hand within her own, and she gave his a reassuring squeeze as they drew close to a group of excited children all dressed in their finest, and mingling parents.

‘You’re going to stay, aren’t you?’

‘Hey,’ she chided gently, ‘you think I’m going to miss out on all the fun?’

And it was fun; the professional planning ensured there was spontaneity in the children’s games, with thirty-odd pre-schoolers enjoying the time of their lives. Any minor squabble was intercepted, the perpetrator distracted, and eventually it was time for food, drink…and most importantly, the cake.

It was easy to smile, to laugh a little at so many small faces glowing with anticipation as four candles were ceremoniously lit.

A sudden prickle of awareness slid up Taylor’s spine and settled at her nape…an instinctive alert she endeavoured to ignore without much success.

She shifted her gaze slightly and caught sight of the tall, broad-shouldered male figure crossing the grounds towards the host, hostess and their grouped guests.

Dante. Attired in dark tailored trousers, a white shirt open at the neck, worn with a black butter-soft leather jacket.

It wasn’t so much his attire that drew attention but the man himself, for there was an intrinsic quality she chose not to define…just aware of an instinctive need to build her defensive barriers high in self-protection.

Survival…her own. Against a man whose sensual potency threatened to wreck her equilibrium. Something she vowed no man would ever be permitted to do again.

Why now , when she’d reached a relatively relaxed state of mind? Settled, she added silently, into a life of relative contentment.

Yet in one fatal second her world had changed, flung into an orbit she struggled to control.

Not Ben…never Ben.

Dante.

A man who disturbed her more than she was prepared to admit. Had from the moment she first saw him. Friendly, warm…with a reputation for preferring sophisticated women who knew the score.

It wasn’t her nature to flirt. Nor did she favour casual sex, possibly because there had been no one for whom she’d been tempted to discard her moral beliefs.

Besides, Dante resided abroad and travelled the world. Any liaison with such a man could only be destined for heartbreak…and she was fiercely determined it wouldn’t be hers .

Later she had reason to enforce that decision a hundredfold.

Yet now he was in her life, occupying her mind, infiltrating her senses, and she struggled against it…wanting only the tranquil life that had once been her own.

‘Taylor.’

She turned slightly and tilted her face a little to meet his easy smile. He had the advantage of height, marked by her choice of flat shoes for the afternoon.

‘Hi.’

There was strength apparent beneath the casual elegance of his clothes. A compelling quality that stood him apart from other men. Power , she determined, and an innate sense of control. Mesh it with latent sexuality, and the result drew women’s attention like bees to a honeypot.