The Consequence She Cannot Deny Page 5

  She stared at his lips under her pale fingers. She stared at the perfect angles of his face, shaded with stubble. Her eyes drank in the image. It was mesmeric.

  ‘What you achieve is going to be all your own work. But there’s no reason why you can’t have some fun along the way.’

  ‘I’m not looking for fun.’

  He raised his eyebrows, but he was still smiling.

  ‘Fun will find you, Coral. A woman who looks like you? As talented and driven as you are? Fun is going to be all round you and you’ll not know which way to turn.’

  ‘That’s why I intend to avoid situations like this.’

  Her words sounded silly, girlish in her own ears.

  He still held her fingers. She knew she should pull them free but she didn’t want to. The sensation as he gently massaged each finger, stroking and soothing, was utterly electrifying.

  ‘Avoidance is a weak form of defence, Coral. You’re going to need to be much smarter than that.’

  ‘And you’re the very one to teach me?’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘You’ll be much better armed when you can tell the good guys from the bad guys. When you can work out who’s safe and who’s dangerous.’

  ‘Why do I feel like this is dangerous?’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to gain by kissing you other than pleasure. That should tell you all you need to know.’

  She felt almost woozy as he continued to stroke, his fingers now around her wrist.

  ‘Pleasure?’ she repeated.

  ‘That’s right. I don’t want to manipulate you. Or stitch you up with a bad contract. Or promise to make you CEO. I just want to give you pleasure. Nothing else.’

  He closed his hand round her fingers and gently tugged her towards him.

  ‘Why deny yourself what you know you want?’

  ‘I don’t even know what I want any more.’

  ‘I know you want me to kiss you—don’t you?’

  He moved a fraction closer. She could see the eyelashes that framed each eye, the fine line of his eyelid, the proud jut of his nose. She could scent him. No matter what her brain was saying, her body was reacting to this man on a level she’d never experienced before. She was almost completely lost.

  ‘You can’t always have what you want, Raffa,’ she breathed. ‘Or didn’t your mother ever teach you that?’

  He had been about to kiss her, had his head tilted to the side. He stopped and turned away. For just a moment she sensed his immense sadness.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, suddenly recalling his story. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

  He laughed, but it sounded empty. ‘As a matter of fact she did say that to me.’

  Coral winced and crushed her eyes closed. ‘I’d no idea...’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s an everyday phrase. People use it all the time.’

  His jaw clenched and he shook his head. She swallowed. She’d really hit a nerve.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and turned her fingers in his hand, squeezing it. Then she clasped her other hand around it and tugged it to her chest. ‘She used it with you and I understand how that must feel.’

  He glanced at her as if to say, Really?

  ‘It’s nothing. I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently. It passes.’

  He smiled, but sadness clung like a cloak around him.

  ‘Raffaele...’ she said.

  He looked round and she saw the unreadable eyes, the unbearably beautiful masculine face. The soul-deep passions and sorrowful secrets he held inside.

  The tide within her swelled and burst. ‘Kiss me.’

  For a moment he stood still, then he stepped forward, clasped her face in his hands, lowered his head. And kissed her. Slowly, gently. The most erotic kiss.

  ‘Yes...’ The word came out as a sigh as he pulled his head away.

  Her eyes fluttered open. He was right. How could something this good be wrong? What harm could result from a kiss? It was only a kiss. And it felt so, so right.

  ‘Such a pleasure,’ he said, kissing her again.

  His tongue slipped into her mouth. Firm, but soft. Hot and moist. Teasing. Every touch enflamed her. She burned for him and wanted even more, her own mouth wide and greedy. She could feel the brush of his stubble on her cheeks, his lips damp with her kiss. He was the most amazing man and he was kissing her with such mastery, undoing her...

  Suddenly the dogs barked. The door opened.

  Coral gasped and jumped back.

  ‘Ah, Salvatore. You’re here,’ said Raffaele.

  Salvatore stopped in his tracks and stared.

  ‘This is Coral. She is the “adorable girl” who has been photographing your fiancée all day.’

  Coral hugged her bag to her chest and tried to smile. Salvatore was nothing like Raffaele. Shorter, darker, he had a full beard and darting eyes that telegraphed suspicion.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, reaching out her shaking hand. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’

  Salvatore turned to Raffaele, ignoring her. ‘I need to talk to you. In private.’

  Raffaele frowned, but his lips had curled into a smile.

  ‘I’m sorry, Coral. I’m sure you can get to know Salvatore later tonight. And perhaps we can finish our discussion? The car should be waiting. I’ll send something over for the party,’ he told her.

  She started to walk away, but he tugged her back and planted a firm, demanding kiss on her lips. Then he smiled and closed the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE GUEST VILLAS sat on the other side of the cove, accessed by a narrow cliffside path to the front, and a single-track road which led to the rear of the old house. Coral closed the door of her villa and headed along the path. A chilly, damp wind wafted half-heartedly, but nothing could dampen the exhilaration and excitement she felt at heading to this party. And about the opportunities that lay ahead.

  With every step the borrowed satin slingbacks pinched her toes, and she drew the wrap a little tighter across her bare shoulders, shutting out the cool night.

  Raffaele really did know fashion. The dress he’d sent was perfect, with its deep crossover bodice, nipped-in waist and full, flared skirt. A fairy godmother couldn’t have done any better.

  She looked up at the inky sky, searching for some sign of cosmic interference or a trail of fairy dust that would justify everything that was happening to her right now. Maybe it was the Greek gods’ handiwork as they grew bored with ambrosia and nectar and started fiddling about in the lives of humans. But there were only the fat bright stars of the southern European skyline, sparkling like the huge jewels on Kyla’s engagement ring, and the distant thud of bass, pounding as loudly as her heartbeat.

  Only ten hours since she’d landed and so much had happened. The commission. The amazing lucky break with the supermodel motif for Kyla. But most of all simply convincing Raffaele. She’d never met anyone like him. So enigmatic, so alluring. But underneath as deep and mysterious as Aphrodite’s Pool.

  There was no doubt the effect he had on people was incredible—and it couldn’t just be his billions. Salvatore was just as wealthy, but he had none of Raffaele’s magnetism. She’d watched Raffaele at the shoot earlier: women fawned over him, men stood a little taller. He was the man everyone wanted to impress, the subject on everyone’s lips. But the man nobody knew. Not really.

  She’d searched online for more of his life story. It was simply documented. He was the orphaned son of the glamorous Lila Rossini, an actress on the cusp of superstardom, her life cut short by a helicopter crash. He had been adopted by the benevolent Giancarlo Di Visconti.

  It sounded like a tragedy with a happy ending, but no one could really imagine what it was like to be in someone else’s shoes. She knew that better than anyone.

&
nbsp; No one would look at her passionate, artistic mother and guess that mental illness had plagued her for years. Always she was waiting for the mysterious man she loved to return for her one day. He’d never come, but her episodes of depression continued.

  Four months earlier Coral had thought things were improving. A gallery had sold nearly all of her mother’s last collection, and she was feeling happy about Coral graduating top of her class. But then—another breakdown. Lynda wouldn’t talk about it, but she knew it was something to do with Coral’s father. She’d buried herself away and refused to talk about him.

  Even now all Coral knew was that he’d been her mother’s boss. And that sleeping with the boss was a very bad idea.

  Sleeping with Raffa was a very bad idea.

  But she didn’t have to worry about that now. She had her first feature in the bag and the chance of more tonight if she managed to charm the surly Salvatore.

  They hadn’t clicked. She’d known it immediately. Funny that the only strange, unsettling feeling she’d had since landing on the island had been when she’d met him. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected—mean and miserable, nothing at all like Raffaele. But she had good chemistry with Kyla. And explosive chemistry with Raffaele...

  As she neared the house music filtered out through the gardens, heard over the roar of the ocean. Voices rose and fell, high and feverish with wine and the knowledge that they’d all put in a good day’s work and deserved whatever the night would bring.

  She was going to make twenty new contacts. That was her aim. And that meant working the room as if her life depended on it.

  She put her game face on and stepped inside.

  It was busy. Everyone was dressed up and well on their way to a good night. Some people were dancing, but most were chatting in twos and threes. She searched the room, looking for Raffaele. But only to show him how she looked in the dress. To thank him.

  She took a glass of wine and wound her way through the crowd. A few of the guys looked at her in a hungry way, but no one chatted her up. A few girls checked out her outfit, their stares dropping from her face to her shoes and then all the way back up. They smiled, but not with their eyes.

  On she went, through the room where the shoot had taken place—now transformed again, with white linen-covered tables heaving with glasses and bottles and buckets of ice. And there, beside Mariella on one of the stone seats at the far end of the loggia, was Raffaele. His head was bent in conversation, and he was listening intently to what she was saying.

  ‘Ah, Coral. You made it,’ he said as she walked over. ‘And you look very well. The dress suits you. The fit is perfect.’

  He nodded, as if satisfied with his work, while Mariella raised her eyebrows over her glass.

  ‘I wanted to say thanks for helping me out. I really appreciate it. I don’t want to disturb you. I thought I’d try to have a chat with Kyla and Salvatore now. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for the chance of another shoot, Mariella,’ she said, turning to the editor. ‘It means the world to me.’

  ‘Not at all. Raffaele was just saying that you’ve delivered exactly what he wanted. Well done.’

  She smiled sweetly and dismissed her, turning back to whisper intensely to Raffa. Coral’s heart sank. Mariella wasn’t complimenting her work.

  She’d done nothing wrong. It was so unfair. She looked around. People were staring at her and then looking away. And it wasn’t because she had overdone the eyeliner or had lipstick on her teeth.

  Suddenly she felt someone brush past her. She turned. It took her a few seconds to figure out who she was looking at, but then she realised.

  ‘Salvatore! Hi.’

  He stood rigidly to let her air-kiss each cheek. She smelled a rather sickly cologne and too much alcohol.

  ‘Enjoying the party?’

  ‘Why, yes,’ she replied, glad of somebody to speak to finally, even if he was a bit frosty. ‘The villa is just lovely. And the views are amazing.’

  He nodded. Said nothing.

  ‘I saw you on your boat earlier—’

  Salvatore’s narrow eyes narrowed further. ‘You saw me on my boat?’

  ‘Yes. You must love boats—all sorts, I suppose. Do you travel on the Argento cruise liners? Ha-ha—it must be like hopping on a number nineteen bus for you.’

  He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. Coral played with the stem of her glass. She felt distinctly uncomfortable. She tried again.

  ‘So this is where you grew up? What a beautiful house. And the grounds! You must have had such a fun childhood.’

  ‘What’s with all the questions? Why do you need to know? Are you a reporter?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Salvatore, Kyla is a little tired. She’s asking for you.’

  Raffaele.

  Coral felt his hand on her back and her nervous system instantly reacted. The wide, warm splay of his fingers calmed and alarmed her in a single move.

  ‘Your new friend seems very interested to learn about the family.’

  ‘Thanks, Salvatore, I hear what you’re saying,’ he replied. ‘Coral is getting to know the family as well as she can before the shoot tomorrow.’

  ‘No way! Seriously?’ Coral’s heart burst all over again. ‘The couple shots? You want me to do them?’

  Raffaele nodded, but he was absolutely poker-faced. ‘Yes. I’ve just agreed it with Mariella.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about this,’ said Salvatore.

  ‘Your fiancée does. She has all the details and is sharing them with everyone down at the pool as we speak. She was very impressed with Coral’s professionalism. Mariella and I both feel it would work well. It’s all in hand.’

  Salvatore looked from Raffaele to Coral and she was suddenly struck by how handsome he was, despite the frown that permanently cast such an unpleasant look over his features.

  ‘It seems it’s all arranged, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss...?’

  ‘Dahl,’ Raffaele answered for her.

  ‘Coral,’ Coral added, smiling as sweetly as she could.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure there are plenty of things you will want to chat over tomorrow. I’ll look after things here, Salvatore, since you’ve got your hands full with Kyla.’ He manoeuvred himself to stand beside Coral, leaving Salvatore no option but to nod curtly and head off into the party.

  ‘He doesn’t like me,’ said Coral, watching him retreat. ‘If he’s got a problem with me it’s going to show in the pictures.’

  ‘Relax. Salvatore takes a long time to trust people. He’ll be fine with you.’

  ‘And that’s coming from you? He must be bad! Look how long it took me to get past your barricades.’

  ‘Let’s just say I’m more susceptible to your charms.’

  She stared straight ahead. ‘That’s the last thing I want you or anyone else round here to think.’

  ‘As I said earlier, caring too much about what people think will only lead you into trouble. You can go after what you want in life and still have a lot of fun. They’re not mutually exclusive.’

  She looked around to see who was listening. Raffaele stood utterly still beside her, surveying the scene in that outwardly expressionless way of his.

  The party was now in full swing, full of cool, beautiful people, relaxing and having a good time. People who were at the top of their game, who were respected the world over. And she was part of it. She was barely out of college and she was right here, in the heart of a world she desperately wanted to belong to.

  ‘OK. I’ll admit that the kiss we had earlier was amazing. But that’s it. We’re both clear about what I’m here to do and what I’m not going to do.’

  ‘As long as we’re both clear.’

  Coral couldn’t be clearer. ‘Completely. But I can’t thank you
enough—honestly.’

  ‘You’re here on your own merits. Despite what anyone may try to tell you. I don’t suffer fools and I don’t tolerate anyone incompetent. If you were either of those you wouldn’t have made it off the Tarmac, as we’ve already discussed.’

  She swallowed and looked at him. She tried not to, she really did, but it was impossible. The gleam of his shirt drew her eyes to the wall of chest muscle underneath. It was cut close to his body and she had such an urge to slide her fingers in between the buttonholes to feel the silk of his skin and the springy dusting of hair on the rock-hard abs she just knew would be there.

  Forcibly, she drew her eyes away.

  ‘I know I can do this,’ she said simply. ‘I won’t let anything spoil it.’

  ‘What could spoil it? You deliver what the magazine wants, then stand back and bask in the glory. Nobody is interested in anything else, despite what you might think. And if you don’t want any fun—don’t have it.’

  All around her the party was kicking up its heels. She could sense hedonism taking hold. These people worked hard and played harder. And this was shaping up to be a night to remember.

  ‘Looks like it’s going to get messy.’

  ‘What?’ The music had suddenly gone up at least ten decibels. She leaned forward to hear him.

  ‘I said—’

  He put his hand on her waist, lightly, and pulled her closer. She leaned in to listen and her lips almost brushed his cheek. Half drunk with lust, she glanced up and noticed his gaze on her face. Her body kick-started again.

  ‘I said, looks like it’s going to get messy.’

  He indicated the room, where the music was slowing and people were beginning to grind their hips and dance as if nobody was watching. She saw two of the young interns locking lips. Hands were skimming bodies. It was electrifying.

  Despite the throb of the party, all the women still slid their eyes to him. And even if her head was still telling her to step away from danger, her body was welcoming him home.

  But then he turned his head and stepped to the side. One of his men had approached and was whispering something. He frowned, then nodded. Then they separated and he returned to her side.