At No Man's Command Read online

  ‘Is it everything you hoped for?’

  She painted on a smile. ‘You would not believe the amount of money in my bank account. Oh, that reminds me.’ She turned and fished in her bag in the drawer under the make-up counter. ‘Ah, here it is. I knew I had it somewhere.’ She held the engagement ring out to him in her open palm and stretched her smile a little further. ‘I can buy my own jewellery now.’

  He ignored the ring. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. And you?’

  ‘I see your stepfather sold a pack of lies to the press,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I’ve been expecting that for a while now. It’ll keep him in drink and cigarettes and drugs for a year or two.’

  ‘Are you going to do anything about it?’

  She shrugged. ‘What can I do? Hopefully, it will blow away in a day or two.’

  His brow was deeply furrowed. ‘But it could damage your reputation before you get your career properly launched. You’re only starting out. It could destroy what you’ve worked so hard for.’

  Aiesha closed her fingers over the ring, barely noticing how it bit into the flesh of her palm. ‘You shouldn’t be here, James. People will talk.’

  ‘So? Let them talk.’

  ‘Your business will suffer.’ She dropped the ring on the counter next to her make-up kit, turning her back on him as she straightened the cosmetic brushes in a neat line. ‘Your reputation has a lot further to fall than mine. It could jeopardise your business.’

  He let out an expletive and spun her around to face him. ‘Is that why you fed me that rubbish about not loving me?’

  Aiesha looked into his glittering eyes. Tears were not far away in hers. They didn’t look far away in his, either. ‘Don’t make this any harder for me. I don’t belong in your life. I don’t belong in your world. I’ll bring you down, James. I’ll ruin everything for you. It’s already happening all over again.’

  He pulled her up and crushed her to his chest. ‘You silly little goose.’ He kissed the top of her head, the side of her face, her chin, her nose and then finally a hot, hard kiss on her mouth. He held her from him, his eyes misty. ‘That song. That was for me, wasn’t it? I was the love you had to let go.’

  Aiesha could barely speak for the emotions that were rising like a tsunami in her chest. A huge, emotional storm that was like a cauldron boiling over. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you. I figured I’d already hurt you enough. Letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.’

  ‘I love you.’ His hands gripped her shoulders so tightly it was close to pain but she didn’t care. ‘I love you so much. It’s been so hard to stay away from you. Every day I wanted to call you. To beg you to come back to me.’

  ‘Why did you come now?’ Aiesha said. ‘Why not before?’

  ‘I was angry after what happened in Paris,’ he said. ‘But I stubbornly refused to make the first move, even though I realised soon after you’d only made that crack about hooking up with my father as a way to push me away.’

  She gave him a sheepish look. ‘I’m sorry about that. It was a pretty crass thing to say.’

  He cupped her face in his hands. ‘When that awful story came out this morning, I was sick with worry. I was worried there would be no one by your side to protect you. I want to be that person, Aiesha. I want to make you feel safe. I want you to feel loved. I want you to feel accepted. You’re a part of me. I can’t function without you. Just ask my mother. She’s been tearing her hair out over me. You can’t do that to her. You have to marry me, otherwise she’ll never speak to me again. How bad would that be? You would have cost her a husband and a son.’

  Aiesha felt a smile break open her face. It unlocked something gnarled and tightly bound inside her chest. ‘I guess when you put it that way, how could I refuse?’

  His hands tightened again on her shoulders. ‘You mean it? You’ll marry me?’

  She laughed at his shocked expression. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me to say it?’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘The three little magic words.’

  He grinned as he pulled her close again. ‘I heard you the first time.’

  She wrinkled her brow as she tilted her head back to look at him. ‘When was that?’

  ‘On stage tonight,’ he said. ‘You turned to the audience and I knew you were speaking directly to me. I sat and cried like a baby through that song. I was surrounded by thousands of people and yet I felt like I was the only one in the audience.’

  Aiesha blinked through tears of happiness. ‘That’s because you’re the only one that matters to me.’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘What about my money?’

  She twinkled her eyes right on back. ‘I’ve got my own money.’

  ‘What about my mother? She matters to you, doesn’t she?’

  Aiesha felt a warm rush of love flow through her. ‘You know she does.’

  ‘Have you ever told her?’

  ‘Not in so many words, but I think she knows.’

  He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘You could call her and tell her. I think she’d love to hear you say the words. She’s ridiculously sentimental like that.’

  Aiesha put her arms around his neck. ‘I want you to hear them first. I never said them to anyone else before.’ She looked him in the eyes, her heart suddenly feeling too big for her chest. ‘I love you.’

  His eyes watered up. His throat moved up and down. His arms around her tightened. ‘I love you, too. So much. I never thought it was possible to love someone this much. You will marry me, won’t you?’

  She gave him a teasing smile. ‘I wonder if anyone’s ever accepted a marriage proposal in a dressing room before?’

  He brought his mouth down to within a millimetre of hers. ‘First time for everything,’ he said, and then he kissed her.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from DANTE’S UNEXPECTED LEGACY by Catherine George.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Presents title.

  You want alpha males, decadent glamour and jet-set lifestyles. Step into the sensational, sophisticated world of Harlequin Presents, where sinfully tempting heroes ignite a fierce and wickedly irresistible passion!

  Enjoy eight new stories from Harlequin Presents every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.

  Austin Treffen has the plan… Hunter has the money… Alex has the power!

  Read each of their stories in the captivating Fifth Avenue trilogy,

  only from Harlequin Presents:

  Avenge Me by Maisey Yates (June 2014)

  Scandalize Me by Caitlin Crews (July 2014)

  Expose Me by Kate Hewitt (August 2014)

  And don’t miss the Fifth Avenue prequel that started it all, Take Me, by Maisey Yates!

  Order your copies today in ebook format.

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  ROSE SAT RIGIDLY, every nerve on edge as the plane took off. No turning back now. For years she’d been turning down invitations to Florence, f
latly refusing to be parted from her little daughter, or to take her child with her. But this time refusal had been impossible.

  ‘Please, please come,’ Charlotte had begged. ‘Just you and me in a luxury hotel for a couple of days. God knows you can do with a break, and I’ll pay for everything and send you a plane ticket, so absolutely no expenses on your part. You know Bea will be fine with your mother, so don’t say no this time. I really need you, Rose. So come. Please!’ she’d added, and because Charlotte was her oldest and closest friend and she loved her like a sister, Rose had finally given in.

  ‘Oh, all right. If it means that much to you I will. But why a hotel and not your place?’

  ‘I want you all to myself.’

  ‘Fabio can’t be cool about this. It’s your wedding anniversary, isn’t it?’

  ‘He’ll be away for it on some business trip,’ said Charlotte miserably. ‘Besides, he doesn’t know about the hotel yet. But I’ve already booked, so there’s nothing he can do about it—not that he would, of course.’

  Rose wasn’t so sure. A possessive husband like Fabio Vilari would surely be anything but cool if his wife took a hotel break in Florence without him, even if it was with her lifelong friend and the bridesmaid at their wedding. But from the moment Rose had said a reluctant yes to the trip Charlotte rang every day to make sure that she hadn’t changed her mind, and in her final call sprang a surprise with instructions to take a taxi from Santa Maria Novella railway station to the hotel. ‘I’ll meet you there later in time for dinner, Rose. I can’t wait!’

  Money, if the hotel brochure was anything to go by, was obviously not part of Charlotte’s problem, but if something was going wrong with her marriage Rose couldn’t see what earthly help a single parent like herself could give her friend, other than to provide a sympathetic ear. Still, the note of tearful desperation in her friend’s voice had been so worrying that Rose had enlisted her mother’s willing help, covered her child’s face with kisses and made for Heathrow with her shoulder ready for Charlotte to cry on.

  On terra firma in Pisa Airport, Rose concentrated on collecting her luggage and finding the train for Florence, but once she’d boarded it the Tuscan scenery passed her by almost unnoticed in her worry about possible problems left behind and the all-too-probable ones awaiting her at journey’s end. Her daughter was used to spending time with her beloved gramma while Rose went out to work, but Mummy had always been home before bedtime. Rose blinked hard. The thought of her darling Bea crying for her in the night was unbearable. Yet Charlotte had been there for Rose through thick and thin in the past, and now her friend was the one needing help and support for once Rose had no option but to get to her as quickly as possible to provide it.

  Rose came to with a start as the train pulled into Santa Maria Novella and was soon wheeling her suitcase through the heat and bustle of the crowds streaming from the lofty station into the late afternoon Florentine sunshine, so very different from the cool mists left behind. The taxi driver who eventually picked her up took a look at her hotel brochure and whisked her on a fast, chaotic drive past tall old buildings in narrow streets filled with honking cars and scooters en route to the banks of the River Arno. Rose stared, impressed, when they reached the hotel. Charlotte was certainly pushing the boat out for her. A flight of stone steps with a red carpet runner led up to an arched doorway crowned by a fabulous Venetian glass fanlight. Rose paid the driver, wishing she’d worn something more elegant than denim jeans and jacket for her red carpet entrance as she trailed her suitcase past marble statues and urns of flowers in the vaulted foyer. She approached the man behind the reception desk at the foot of a sweeping staircase and gave him her name.

  ‘Buonasera,’ he said courteously, but to her relief continued in English. ‘Welcome to Florence, Miss Palmer. If you will just sign the register? I am to inform you that Signora Vilari has ordered dinner for two in the hotel restaurant this evening.’

  Rose smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Prego. If you require anything at all, please ring. Enjoy your stay.’

  A porter took charge of the luggage to escort Rose to a lift rather like an ornate brass birdcage. It took them up two floors at such a leisurely rate she could have walked up faster, but she was utterly delighted when she reached her room. She tipped the porter and went straight out onto a balcony looking down on the River Arno, her feelings a heady mix of trepidation and excitement as she recognised the sun-gilded bridge farther upstream as the famous Ponte Vecchio. She was actually, unbelievably, here in Florence at last. She sent a text to Charlotte to confirm her arrival, and then rang her mother.

  ‘No problems, darling; Bea’s as happy as a lark,’ Grace Palmer assured her. ‘She’s playing with Tom in the garden before her bath. Do you want to speak to her?’

  ‘I just long to, Mum, but I won’t in case it upsets her. If she’s happy let’s keep her that way.’

  ‘She’ll be fine. You know we’ll take good care of her, so for heaven’s sake, relax and enjoy yourself.’

  Rose promised to try, said there was no news from Charlotte yet, but would report tomorrow. She chose a tonic from the minibar and sat back on one of the reclining chairs on the balcony to breathe in the scents and sounds of Florence as she watched the traffic stream past across the river. For the first time in for ever at this time of day she had absolutely nothing to do—but missed her child too much to enjoy it. Stop it, she told herself irritably. Now she was here it was only sensible to make the most of her short break in this beautiful city. But what on earth was going on with Charlotte and Fabio? Could Fabio be cheating on her? Rose glowered. In the unlikely event that she ever acquired a husband herself her gut reaction would be grievous bodily harm if the man started playing away. She checked her silent phone again, took a last look at the sparkling waters of the Arno and went inside to soak in the bath for as long as she liked for once.

  With still no word from Charlotte, the uneasiness grew as Rose got ready for the evening. To keep occupied, she took longer over her appearance than she ever had time for normally and even coaxed her newly washed hair into an intricate up-do. She nodded at her reflection in approval. Not bad. Her long-serving little black dress looked pretty good now she’d lost a pound or two. Charlotte’s clothes were always wonderful, courtesy of a wealthy, besotted husband—Rose bit her lip, wondering if there lay the problem. Maybe Fabio Vilari was no longer so besotted. Or, worst scenario of all, was now besotted with someone else.

  She leapt away from the mirror as the phone rang. At last!

  ‘Hello,’ she said eagerly, but her face fell at the news that a letter had arrived for her.

  A letter?

  ‘Thank you. I’ll come down for it right away.’ And wait for Charlotte downstairs with a drink.

  Too impatient to wait for the lift, Rose hurried down the imposing staircase as fast as she could in her kept-for-best heels and crossed the foyer to the reception desk. The bulky envelope, addressed in Charlotte’s unmistakable scrawl, was handed to her, along with the information that the gentleman who’d delivered it wished to speak with her.

  ‘Buonasera, Rose,’ said a voice behind her. ‘Welcome to Firenze.’

  Her heart, which had taken a nosedive at the sight of Charlotte’s handwriting, flew up to hammer Rose in the ribs. To hide her horrified reaction, she turned very slowly to confront a tall, slim man with dark curling hair and a face that could be straight out of a Raphael portrait. A face she had never forgotten, though heaven knew she had tried. Here in the handsome, irresistible flesh was her reason for refusing all invitations to Tuscany—to avoid meeting up with her daughter’s father again.

  ‘Good heavens—Dante Fortinari,’ she said lightly when she could trust her voice. ‘What a surprise!’

  ‘A pleasant one, I hope?’ He took her hand, a light in his blue eyes that made her want to turn tail and run. ‘I am so
very happy to see you again, Rose. Will you have a drink while you read your letter?’

  Her first reaction was to refuse point-blank and tell him to get lost, but after a pause she nodded warily. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Come.’ He led her to a table in the hushed sophistication of the lounge bar. ‘You would like wine?’

  She felt in crying need of something even stronger than wine after the shock of seeing him again, but to keep her wits about her opted for water. ‘Sparkling water, please. Will you excuse me while I read this?’

  Dante Fortinari gave the order to a waiter then sat watching intently while she read her letter. Rose Palmer had changed in the years since their last meeting at Charlotte Vilari’s wedding over four years ago. Then she had been an innocent just past her twenty-first birthday, but now she was very much a woman. Hair still the colour of caramello was swept up in a precarious knot that made his fingers yearn to bring it tumbling down. Combined with the severe dress, it gave her a look of sophistication very different from his memory of her. His mouth twisted. She had been so irresistible in her happiness for her friend that day, but the carefree young bridesmaid had now matured into a poised, self-contained adult who was very obviously not pleased to see him. This was no surprise. He had half expected her to snatch her letter and walk away, refusing to talk to him at all.

  Rose, in the meantime, was reading Charlotte’s note in dismay.

  You’ll want to hit me, love, when you read this—I don’t blame you one bit. Fabio woke me up yesterday morning with flowers, a gorgeous gold bracelet, plus tickets for a surprise trip to New York for today of all days.