Annie West - Ruthless Revenge - Sweet Surrender

Except there was more. Ella felt again the heat of his possession. That current of electricity. That connection . She couldn’t believe, after a lifetime dealing with her self-serving, merciless father, that she’d respond this way to a man who was just the same. Her sixth sense told her there was a lot more to Donato.

Briskly she rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to smooth her prickling flesh.

‘Why don’t you tell me the truth? Why insist on this farce of a marriage?’ Her voice rose as disappointment vied with frustration. Had she really hoped things had changed because they’d been intimate?

Heat streaked Ella’s cheeks and she turned, staring across the lush garden to the sea beyond. She wasn’t used to these games. She wasn’t used to casual sex and its aftermath. Donato had provoked her and she’d let anger and desire lead her out of her depth.

She should be home now, washing clothes for work next week. Or scouting the sales and second-hand furniture stores for another lost treasure to restore.

Donato leaned forward and involuntarily her gaze slewed to his. Something kicked in her chest as the air thickened.

It’s too late. The damage is done. You can’t turn back the clock. He fascinates you and you still want him.

Ella reached for her wine glass then let her hand drop. It wasn’t alcohol she needed. Her head was fuzzy enough without it.

‘The truth is rarely simple, cariño . And not always desirable.’

Was it the unexpected lilting endearment that caught at Ella’s throat? Or the expression on Donato’s face? That fleeting hint of emotion stilled Ella’s heart. She stared, wondering if she’d imagined it. But there’d been no mistaking the stark pain she’d glimpsed. It stunned her.

‘You want the truth?’ He shook his head, muttering something that might be Spanish. It had those fluid cadences. Then he sat forward, his elbows on his knees as he filled her personal space. ‘The truth is—I want this wedding your father is planning.’

She should have been insulted. Despite their sexual attraction, he didn’t want marriage for the sake of marrying her . He’d been just as willing to marry Fuzz. Instead Ella was intrigued. There was something there. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, that would explain everything if only she understood.

He wanted the wedding.

Not her , but the wedding.

Ella frowned, testing the notion that Donato would marry a stranger, a total stranger, just to secure a place in society. It didn’t make sense.

‘Stop scowling, Ella. You’ll give yourself a headache.’

‘You don’t think the idea of being forced into marriage is enough to make my head hurt?’ She couldn’t believe he’d do it. It was too preposterous.

To Ella’s surprise, Donato reached out and took her hand, clasping it loosely. ‘It will be all right.’ His voice was low and reassuring, like a wave of soft warmth. ‘All you need to know is that while the wedding plans go ahead so does my support for your father.’

For a heady moment she wanted to sink against him, trust that it really would be all right. But how could that be?

‘Except you’re threatening him.’ And, as a result, the rest of her family.

‘You care so much about his money? You’re dependent on it?’

Her eyebrows arched. She hadn’t been dependent on Reg Sanderson’s money since the day she turned seventeen and walked out of the door to pursue her own life. It didn’t matter that her dreams were mundane by her father’s standards. Becoming a nurse, doing something concrete and practical to help people. Being financially independent. Choosing her own friends. All those things had been important milestones.

‘I care that you think you can blackmail me into marriage. It’s not ethical.’ She speared him with a look and tugged to free her hand from his grip. It didn’t work and she shot to her feet.

Donato rose at the same time, looming close. ‘You want ethics from me? From an ex-crim?’ His jaw set.

‘Why not?’ Ella should be intimidated by the glint in his eyes and by the way he crowded her, his wide shoulders hemming her in. Instead she felt a delicious thrill as she arched her neck to hold his gaze. With Donato she’d never felt more starkly the divide between male and female. She revelled in his size, his brooding presence and the unfamiliar sensation of being almost petite.

Was she insane?

‘You’re not a thug, Donato.’ There was too much intense thought behind his alert gaze for that to be true. And too much control—it was stamped on his features. Then there was the way he’d made love to her...

For the first time it seemed words eluded him. He stared as if he’d never seen her like before.

What? Had he really thought she’d have given herself to a man she feared?

‘You don’t say,’ he said at last. ‘And you’re an expert on thugs? Growing up in a north-shore mansion and attending a posh private school?’ His words were a silky taunt and she wondered at the anger she’d inadvertently stirred. Because she refused to think the worst of him? Had she questioned too closely?

‘You did check on me.’ Ella blinked, amazed at how betrayed she felt. She tasted disappointment, a bitter tang on her tongue.

Donato frowned. ‘I said I hadn’t. It doesn’t take an investigator to know your father wouldn’t send his darling daughter anywhere she’d mix with the wrong sort.’

Ella’s stomach swooped in relief. She hadn’t wanted to believe Donato had lied.

She huffed a mirthless laugh. She’d never been Reg’s ‘darling daughter’. If only Donato knew, her school had had its share of bullies. Maybe if she’d been pretty or pert or less studious they wouldn’t have targeted her.

‘I’ve met some thugs in my time.’ Her father being one. ‘They bully those who seem weaker. But really they’re cowards, scared of anyone stronger.’

‘Yet you don’t think of me as a bully?’

Ella drew a deep breath, then wished she hadn’t as she dragged in his spicy warm scent. It made her want to kiss that hard beautiful mouth. She dragged her hand free and stepped back, her chair grating across the flagstones.

‘No, I don’t.’ Donato was demanding, arrogant, clever and ruthless. But he’d been considerate, reassuring and almost...tender. He’d kept his word, refusing to have her investigated because he knew the idea revolted her. He’d been honest, up to a point.

‘Tell me about the man you attacked.’

Donato’s head reared back. ‘What makes you think I want to talk about that?’

She shrugged. ‘Why wouldn’t you? Don’t tell me you’re scared I’ll judge you?’

Instead of bridling at the taunt, Donato surveyed her with a thoroughness that brought all that reckless awareness straight to the surface in a blaze like wildfire.

Ignoring the flare of arousal, she stared straight back. She needed to understand him.

‘Why did you fight with him?’

He shrugged, his expression closed. ‘He deserved it. He hurt someone.’

Ella frowned. She hadn’t read about anyone else in the fight, just the teenage Donato and a forty-year-old man. Yet it had been the older man carted off to hospital after the police intervened.

‘So you were protecting someone?’ Her chest contracted at the idea of a teenager taking on a grown man to save someone else.

She’d never had a protector in her life, had always fought her own battles, but the idea held huge appeal. Perhaps because no one had ever stood up for her. It made his actions more understandable, more forgivable.

Ella counted one breath, two, three, before finally he shook his head.

‘It wasn’t that simple. Don’t imagine I’m some hero.’ His mouth twisted harshly. ‘I’m not.’