The Italian's Bargain for His Bride, page 6
It was never going to happen, Daniele brooded. He would not allow his heart to be possessed by any woman. Although the circumstances had been different, both his father and Marcello had lost the women they’d loved, and they had been heartbroken for the rest of their lives. Daniele did not want to be consumed by a grand passion. He preferred to be in control of his life and his emotions.
It was right that Paloma should have her grandmother’s engagement ring. He had kept it in his jacket pocket, intending to give it to her before her grandfather’s funeral. But when Franco had seemed poised to take control of Morante Group, Daniele had needed to act fast, to convince the board of trustees that he would marry Paloma and prepare her for when she succeeded Marcello as the head of the company.
The car slowed as it approached the entrance to the grounds of the palazzo. Daniele was puzzled when he saw that the ornate iron gates were open and there was no security guard in the gatehouse. A sweeping driveway lined with slender cypress trees led to the palatial building that had been the home of the noble Morante family since the sixteenth century.
Paloma climbed out of the car and preceded Daniele up the flight of stone steps to the front door. ‘It feels as though the place has been abandoned,’ she said with a catch in her voice. ‘I suppose it’s my imagination because I know that Nonno won’t stride out of his study to greet me.’
The door was opened by the butler. ‘There is only me and my wife, Giulia, here to take care of the house,’ Aldo explained when Paloma and Daniele stepped into the opulent entrance hall. ‘Yesterday, all the other household staff received letters informing them that they no longer had their jobs. I have just seen a news report on the television that Signor Morante is dead. Please accept my condolences, signorina.’
‘It must be a mistake,’ Paloma said. ‘My grandfather would not have wanted his staff who had worked for him for years to be sacked. Who sent the dismissal letters?’
‘They had been signed by Signor Morante. Everyone was upset because your grandfather had not given any indication that he was displeased with the staff.’
‘But Nonno died a week ago.’ Paloma looked at Daniele. ‘He couldn’t have sacked the staff. So who did?’
‘What about the security team?’ Daniele asked the butler. ‘Were they dismissed too?’
Aldo nodded. ‘With the announcement of Signor Morante’s death, I am concerned that thieves might try to break into the house while there are no security personnel patrolling the grounds.’
‘It’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’ Paloma muttered as she followed Daniele into the salon.
The dismissal of the security staff was more than odd. The hairs on the back of Daniele’s neck prickled. ‘It’s not safe for you to stay at the palazzo. I’m guessing you keep clothes here for when you visit.’ She nodded, and he said briskly, ‘Go and change your clothes and pack a bag.’ He pulled out his phone. ‘I need to make alternative arrangements.’
‘This is my home now and I won’t be scared away from it,’ Paloma said in a determined voice. ‘Besides, the charity ball will be held here, and I need to help with the preparations. My grandfather always took a personal interest in the fundraising event.’ She bit her lip. ‘If you really think that someone on the board of trustees wants me...out of the way, we ought to call the police.’
‘And tell them what? For all we know, your grandfather might have decided to sack the staff and signed the dismissal letters before he died. They would have taken a few days to arrive in the post.’ Daniele could not hide his frustration. ‘No actual threat has been made against you while you have been in Italy and the police will not have the authority to investigate your kidnapping in Mali. You are my responsibility.’
Daniele could tell from the way Paloma’s eyes had darkened to indigo that an argument was brewing. ‘I will rehire the palazzo’s staff and the security team in time for the charity ball, but until then, I’m taking you to my farmhouse near Lucca. Be ready to leave in half an hour.’
‘Are you always so overbearing?’ Paloma gave him a mutinous look. ‘I appreciate your help, but I don’t want you to think of me as your responsibility.’
It was vital that he did, Daniele brooded. Otherwise his thoughts might turn to how desperately he wanted to kiss Paloma’s lips, which were currently set in a sulky pout. When he’d grazed his mouth over hers at the board meeting, it had taken all his willpower to resist deepening the kiss. But even the brief taste of her sweet breath had had an instant effect on his body, and he’d quickly stepped away from her before she had become aware of his rampant arousal.
Things were likely to get worse once they were married, he acknowledged grimly. In public they would have to put on a convincing act that their marriage was real to keep Morante Group’s shareholders happy. Daniele’s gaze was drawn to Paloma’s pert derrière when she turned and walked away from him. He cursed beneath his breath. Deal with one problem at a time, he told himself. Right now he needed to take her to where he could keep her safe while he tried to discover what the hell was going on.
‘What is happening?’ Paloma asked some forty minutes later when she emerged from the car and stared at the crash helmet Daniele held out to her. He had driven them from the palazzo to a garage in a nearby village.
‘We’ll swap vehicles and travel to the farmhouse on the bike in case anyone is looking out for the car. Here’s a leather jacket for you to wear. It should fit.’
‘I suppose another of your ex-army friends left the motorbike and gear here for us,’ she said drily. ‘It’s a good thing I’m wearing my jeans.’
The sight of Paloma’s sexy figure in skintight denim was not a good thing for Daniele’s blood pressure. Earlier in the day, she had looked sophisticated and untouchable in a designer outfit. Now her long hair was loose and spilled down her back like a curtain of silk. The leather jacket she’d slipped on gave her an edgy, rock-chick look that made Daniele’s hands itch to touch every gorgeous inch of her.
‘Climb onto the back of the bike and put your arms around my waist,’ he growled, before he jammed his helmet onto his head and started the motorbike’s powerful engine.
The sun was setting, and the Tuscan scenery was breathtaking, with the undulating hills dappled in gold and the pointed spires of the cypress trees casting long shadows. Daniele felt his tension ease and he relished the sense of freedom he felt on the motorbike as he opened up the throttle. He should spend more time out of the office, he brooded.
For the past decade, he had been driven by his determination to make his fortune, and deep down, he’d hoped that his mother would admire his achievements. He had told Paloma it was pride that made him want to impress his mother, but he acknowledged that he was still haunted by her rejection. If his mother hadn’t loved him, would any woman truly love him? He’d told himself he did not want love in his life, but there was an emptiness inside him that money and success could not fill.
His self-made wealth had not gained him Claudia Farnesi’s acceptance. But marriage to Paloma would make him a member of one of the most prestigious families in Italy and give him status in the highest echelons of society. Surely, his mother would be impressed by the son she had abandoned when Daniele had been a boy?
CHAPTER FIVE
‘WELCOME TO MY HOME,’ Daniele said after he’d parked the bike in front of the farmhouse and dismounted.
‘This is beautiful.’ Paloma removed her crash helmet and swung her leg over the saddle. ‘No one would guess the house was here, nestled between the hills. There’s not another building for miles.’ She turned her stunning blue eyes towards him. ‘I had you down as a city type, and I’ve seen photos of you emerging from nightclubs and casinos in the early hours with your latest mistress wrapped around you,’ she said with some asperity.
Daniele grinned. ‘There is no need to be jealous, cara. When we are married, I will be exclusively yours.’
‘I’m not jealous.’ Two patches of scarlet flared on Paloma’s cheeks. ‘I couldn’t care less what you get up to in your private life.’
‘Neither of us will have a private life for the next few months.’ His tone became serious. ‘Our marriage must appear to be real, which means that I am the only man you can be associated with.’
‘I don’t have hordes of admirers.’ She grimaced. ‘Not genuine ones, anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When men look at me, they see a cash cow.’
‘That’s not true.’ Daniele had heard genuine hurt behind her flippant remark, and a hot tide of anger swept through him. Who had made Paloma feel that she was only valued for the size of her inheritance? Had it been her ex-husband? Daniele did not know the reason why her marriage had broken up, but there had been wild speculation in the British press over the size of the financial settlement Paloma had given her ex.
She had become a millionairess at eighteen when she’d taken control of the trust fund left to her by her father, who had died two years earlier. Now she had inherited her grandfather’s vast fortune. Daniele frowned when he remembered that Paloma believed everyone wanted something from her. Was he any better? his conscience demanded. He was not interested in her money, but he wanted the position in society that being married to Paloma would give him.
‘Why did you choose to live in the middle of nowhere?’
‘Actually, I don’t spend as much time here as I would like. My business is based in Rome and I have an apartment in the city. But I was drawn to the remoteness and tranquillity of this place. Like many soldiers who were sent to war zones, I value peace.’
‘I didn’t realise you had served abroad. Where did you go?’
‘Afghanistan.’ Memories flashed through Daniele’s mind. The heat and dust, the constant threat from IEDs, his own very personal dread of being shot dead by a sniper. Like father, like son. He took a deep breath and pushed away thoughts of his best friend, Gino, who had not returned home from war.
The farmhouse was his sanctuary, and Paloma was the only woman he had ever brought here. But he’d reasoned that it would be easier to keep her hidden in the heart of rural Tuscany than if he took her to Rome or Florence. He ushered her into the house and wondered what she would make of its rustic charm after the opulence of the Morante palazzo. Why did he care what Paloma thought? Daniele wondered irritably. He did not need to impress her. Their marriage bargain would benefit her as much as it would him.
‘I don’t employ any full-time staff here,’ he explained. ‘A woman from the village comes in a couple of times a week to keep the place clean. The freezer is always well stocked, and I’ve arranged for someone to deliver fresh produce. You are probably used to being waited on by servants, but you’ll have to muck in. I can cook, although nothing more adventurous than steak and eggs.’
Paloma followed him into the bright kitchen, where an old-fashioned range stood against one wall. The wooden table in the centre of the room looked as ancient as the house. ‘You can leave the catering to me. My grandfather insisted that I spent six months at a Swiss finishing school, and I learned cordon bleu cookery as well as the many other accomplishments expected of an aristocratic bride. That’s the reason you are going to marry me, after all,’ she said drily.
Daniele met her limpid gaze and laughed despite himself. The attraction that had simmered between them since he’d rescued her in Africa sparked into a blaze. Three years ago, Paloma had been shy, and her obvious crush on him had been distracting. He had been determined to ignore the chemistry between them, telling himself that she was too young and inexperienced. He’d felt sure that her grandfather would not approve if he’d had a relationship with Paloma, and so he had avoided her as much as possible. Until he’d kissed her back at the ball and been forced to admit to himself that he’d avoided her for an entirely different reason—that she tested his self-control to its limits.
Since then, Paloma had developed a strong will and a fieriness that Daniele admired. Added to that, she was the sexiest woman he had ever laid eyes on. An erotic image flashed into his mind of Paloma naked and spread across the kitchen table, her long hair tumbling over her breasts and her lips set in a pout that he would enjoy teasing apart with his tongue.
Dio! He turned away from her and pretended to study the bottles in the wine rack to hide the betraying bulge in the front of his jeans. His role was to protect her, he reminded himself. He had discovered a vulnerability to Paloma that warned him to keep his distance.
‘You have a lot of misconceptions about me,’ she murmured. ‘While I was at university, I lived in student digs, and in Mali, my accommodation was basic. I shared a bedroom with a family of cockroaches.’
Daniele knew he should go to his study and switch on his computer. He had several major deals in the pipeline, and usually he would be impatient to get back to work. Instead he opened a bottle of Chianti, found a couple of glasses and pulled out a chair at the table while he watched Paloma investigate the kitchen cupboards and fridge and assemble a pile of ingredients for dinner.
‘Why did you go to Africa? Was it simply a laudable desire to help underprivileged children, or were you running away?’
She flushed. ‘Perceptive, aren’t you? Volunteering as a teacher in Mali was important to me. But you’re right—it gave me a chance to escape from the fallout of my divorce. I felt so stupid that I had been taken in by Calum’s lies.’ Paloma picked up a knife and chopped some mushrooms with unnecessary force.
‘Why did you marry him?’
‘I thought I loved him and that he loved me. I was wrong on both counts.’ She drank some wine. ‘The short version of the story is that Calum was in love with another woman. I discovered later that their relationship had broken up shortly before I met him. He was a barman at a pub near to the London offices of the charity where I worked.’
Paloma paused and took another sip of her drink. ‘Calum was handsome and fun to be with. He was unaware that I was an heiress, or so I thought.’ She sighed. ‘My mother never lets me forget that she is Lady Coulton, and that I am the granddaughter of an English earl and an Italian marchese. She was desperate for me to marry a man with a title. Nonno was putting pressure on me to move to Italy and work with him at Morante Group. When I eloped with Calum, it seemed romantic and exciting, but soon after I’d married him, I realised I had made a mistake when I discovered that he had deliberately fooled me.’
She drained her glass and pushed it across the table for Daniele to refill it. ‘Calum had known that I was wealthy after an Italian barman at the pub recognised I was the Morante heiress. He was attracted to my money, but a few days before our wedding, his ex-girlfriend told him that she was pregnant with his baby. Obviously, I knew nothing about it then. Calum went ahead and married me, anticipating that he could expect a sizeable divorce settlement.’
Paloma took another long sip of wine. ‘I’d stupidly married him without a prenuptial agreement because I believed we would be together for ever. But weeks after the wedding, he resumed his relationship with his girlfriend. Their baby was born a few months later while Calum was still technically my husband.’
Daniele frowned. ‘Under those circumstances, it was reasonable for you to file for divorce. Your husband had never been committed to the marriage and I am surprised that a judge awarded him a financial settlement.’
‘I didn’t fight his claim for money in court.’ A pink stain spread over Paloma’s face. ‘Calum had some raunchy photographs of me on his phone. When we were dating, he’d persuaded me to take pictures of myself in the nude and send them to him. I know, I was an idiot,’ she muttered when Daniele swore softly. ‘He’d promised he would never show them to anyone. Calum agreed to a quick divorce if I gave him the house in London that I’d bought as our marital home, plus an additional financial settlement. If I refused, he said he would pass the photos to the tabloids.’
Daniele discovered that he had unconsciously clenched his fists as he imagined meeting Paloma’s ex-husband. ‘You could have had him charged with blackmail, which carries a prison sentence.’
‘I couldn’t risk the pictures being made public. My grandfather would have been horrified, and I couldn’t face further humiliation. I just wanted out of the marriage, so I agreed to Calum’s terms.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Now you know the miserable details of my marriage and why I am in no rush to do it again.’
Once again, Daniele’s conscience pricked that he would benefit from marrying Paloma. The situation was not the same as her first marriage, he assured himself. He’d been honest with her and he had not pretended that their marriage would be anything other than a business arrangement. But now more than ever he was determined to ignore his inconvenient attraction to her. He could not risk any kind of involvement with Paloma that she might misconstrue as something more than sexual desire.
He left her to prepare dinner while he went to unstrap their bags from the back of the motorbike and carry them upstairs to the bedrooms. When he returned to the kitchen, Paloma was serving up mushroom risotto. She had tied her long hair in a ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the range, and perhaps from the wine. Her glass was empty. Daniele opened a second bottle of Chianti. They could both do with loosening up after the fraught past few days.
While they ate, he kept the conversation on neutral topics. The dark smudges beneath Paloma’s eyes were a sign of the strain she had been under recently. She had grown up used to a life of privilege, but there were no airs and graces to her, and she insisted on helping clear up the kitchen. Afterwards, she opted to watch a film in the sitting room. Daniele went to his study to call Enrique, who operated a security and private investigation business from his hotel in Tunisia.
Enrique had no further news on who had been behind Paloma’s kidnapping, but he’d compiled detailed reports on the members of the board of trustees, their families and associates. Daniele skimmed through the information Enrique had emailed to him and frowned when he saw a name he thought he recognised.
