Penniless Virgin to Sicilian's Bride Page 2

  Frankie unfolded her arms and made fists of her hands. She wanted to slap that arrogantly assured expression off his face. Then she would punch him in his rock-hard stomach, even if it shattered every bone in her hand in the process. He was deliberately baiting her. Making her squirm like a bug on a corkboard. She had refused to date him in the past and now he wanted revenge with an indecent proposal. She plonked herself down in the chair and threw him a look that could have blistered the paint off every one of her ancestors’ portraits. ‘Do you think you can blackmail me to sleep with you?’

  He was sitting on the corner of her father’s desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him, casually crossed at the ankles. ‘I prefer a less offensive term than blackmail, cara.’

  She curled her lip. ‘What term do you prefer to use? And for God’s sake stop calling me cara.’

  ‘The term I would use is charity.’

  Frankie frowned so hard her forehead hurt. ‘Charity?’

  His lazy smile set that sail in her stomach flapping again. ‘I am willing to gift you this house as well as the money to cover your father’s debts if you’ll agree to become my wife.’

  Frankie shot out of her chair so fast it fell over with a thump. ‘Your...wife?’

  ‘Yes. My wife. But only for a year.’

  Frankie opened and closed her mouth, unable to find her voice. For a shameful moment, unable to find a reason to refuse him when she thought of all that money. And her family home. Not to mention the hope of avoiding the public shame of millions of euros of debt.

  No shame. No debt. No dirty little secrets let loose.

  But she couldn’t accept his proposal...could she? It was against everything she believed in. ‘But I don’t understand... Why would you only want to be married for a year?’

  He got off the desk and came over and righted the chair she had knocked over, turning to face her again. ‘You have something I need in the short term.’

  Frankie swallowed, her legs suddenly feeling as if all her joints were only held together by pieces of string. She searched blindly for the desk behind her with her hands, gripping it to keep herself upright. His eyes were as dark as ebony, watchful, calculating, mesmerising. ‘W-what?’ It annoyed her to hear that crack in her voice. Annoyed and shamed her.

  ‘Respectability.’

  She rapid blinked. ‘Respectability?’ She gave a humourless laugh. ‘Don’t you realise the appalling mess my father left me in? There is absolutely nothing respectable about owing millions of—’

  ‘No one needs to know anything about any of that if you marry me. I spoke to your father’s lawyer on the phone just before you arrived. I will cover the entire debt on the condition that you marry me this weekend.’

  Frankie’s stomach dropped like an anchor. He was serious about this? He was prepared to marry her? To repay all that wretched money? ‘This weekend? But it’s Thursday now and—’

  ‘You are aware of my family’s reputation, sì?’ His mouth took on a twisted line.

  ‘Yes, but everyone knows you’re not—’

  ‘Everyone but the board of directors I am currently trying to stay on,’ Gabriel said. ‘Your father was the one who nominated me last year but now he’s gone, the other members are a little uneasy. But when I marry Marco’s only daughter—an English/Italian aristocrat with an impeccable pedigree and reputation—it’ll convince them I’m to be trusted.’

  Frankie let go of her grip of the desk and clutched the neck of her silk blouse, worried her thumping heart was going to leap out and land on the carpet at Gabriel’s feet. ‘But I don’t understand why you would choose me. I mean, we’re not exactly friends. And you must know other aristocrats. Didn’t you date a member of European royalty a few years ago?’

  Gabriel came to stand in front of her, every inch of his six-foot-four frame exuding male power and potency. With him this close, she had to remind herself to breathe. She had to remind herself not to stare at his mouth, not to dream about it crushing hers. Had to remind herself she was a woman of pride and would not resort to marrying a man for his convenience.

  But what about your convenience?

  The voice of her conscience tapped her on the shoulder like an unwelcome guest at a party. Gabriel’s plan was tempting. Seriously, ridiculously tempting. One year of her life and she would be free of the shame of her father’s gambling debts. She would have her family home back. It would remain in her possession. It would not be sold off to strangers or turned into a hotel or a grubby casino...

  ‘I need your answer, Francesca. Yes or no.’

  Frankie removed her hand from the neck of her blouse and scooted away from him, going behind her father’s desk to keep a barrier between them. ‘I need some time to think about this...’ She disguised a gulping swallow, her thoughts in a messy fishing line tangle of fear.

  Married for a year to Gabriel Salvetti? She had hoped to marry one day a man who loved her. Like her father had loved her mother. The mother she had never met since she’d died the day Frankie and her twin brother were born. Roberto had been stillborn and she had always wondered if she was responsible for both their deaths. Her father had never loved another woman since her mother’s death. He had never remarried. He’d had the occasional relationship but no one had taken her mother’s place.

  That was the sort of love she wanted from a man.

  Frankie gripped the back of her father’s leather chair. ‘What sort of marriage are you envisaging?’ Her voice betrayed her with its faint note of trepidation.

  His gaze flicked briefly to her mouth. ‘That would be entirely up to you.’

  She frowned, something in her stomach toppling from a high shelf. Something lower in her body flickering. Flaring. Flaming. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It can be a paper marriage or a normal one. Your choice.’ His expression gave her no clue as to which one he wanted her to choose. A screen had come down over his face. And yet the atmosphere subtly changed as if an invisible third party had entered the room—mutual desire. It throbbed in the air like a current, back and forth between his gaze and hers. She felt it in her body, deep in her body—a flickering pulse that drew molten heat to her core.

  Frankie sent the tip of her tongue out over her lips. ‘And if I were to choose a paper one...would you get your...erm...needs met elsewhere?’

  ‘No.’

  His answer surprised her. He was a full-blooded man of thirty-two. He was in the prime of his life. He had a new lover every few weeks. He was always being photographed with a glamorous woman on his arm. ‘You’d remain celibate for a whole year?’ She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

  ‘If you agree to a paper marriage, then that’s the deal.’ His eyes contained a hint of sardonic amusement. ‘But of course, I would expect you, too, to remain celibate.’

  Frankie wondered if he knew she was still a virgin. But how could he know? It wasn’t something she brandished about. She was pretty sure her father hadn’t known about her lack of a love life, especially since she’d been based in London the last four years, teaching in a special needs school. She had been unlucky with dating. A bad experience in her late teens had made her wary of dating men she didn’t know. And the ones she knew, she didn’t want to date. Like most young women her age, she dreamed of falling in love, but another part of her shied away from getting that close to someone.

  To allow someone to see who she really was—the girl who had carried a curse since birth. Her birthday was her mother and brother’s death day. If that wasn’t a curse, she didn’t know what was.

  Frankie tightened her hold on the chair and fashioned her features into her trademark icy hauteur. ‘I suppose you think if I agree to marry you, then I won’t be able to help myself. That I’ll beg you to make love to me or something.’

  His mouth tilted in a smile so sexy the backs of her knees tingled. ‘If so, I�
��d be happy to be of service.’

  Frankie could feel her cheeks heating hot enough to steam the wallpaper off the walls. ‘I’m not in the habit of begging so don’t hold your breath. But I still don’t understand why you of all people would go to this amount of trouble and expense to rescue me from this situation.’

  Gabriel picked up a paperweight off her father’s desk and passed it from one hand to the other, his gaze focused on the trapped dandelion clock inside the glass sphere. She had given it to her father a couple of years ago because it reminded her of how she felt. Her fragile core of sensitivity shielded from the outside world. Gabriel held the sphere still for a moment, his thumb rolling over the top like he was caressing a woman’s breast.

  Her breast.

  Frankie could actually feel her breast tingling. Damn the man for being so dangerously attractive. He could turn her on by remote. It was as if her body was tuned in to him. Tuned to his control and it was terrifying. Terrifying and yet...and yet...tempting.

  He put the paperweight down again and met her gaze. ‘Your father was a good man, Francesca. He took a chance on me early in my career. Like most people, he had his misgivings about me. But I made sure his one-off offer of help wasn’t wasted.’ He looked down to straighten the paperwork on the desk, glancing back at her to continue. ‘Sure, he made a mess of things towards the end, but that was mostly due to his illness. I don’t want his memory tainted or destroyed by what happened in the last few months of his life.’

  Frankie had always been a little jealous of his relationship with her father. She hadn’t been as close to her father as she would have liked but she mostly blamed herself. She was the one who had taken the love of his life away on the day she was born as well as his much longed for son and heir. It was hard to be close to someone who reminded you of what you had lost.

  It was hard to be close to anyone when you carried such a horrible curse.

  ‘But if you were so chummy with my father, then why didn’t you come to his funeral?’

  A flicker or something passed through his gaze. A flash of pain, a lightning strike of guilt. He pushed one of his hands through the ink-black thickness of his hair, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘I was unable to get there due to circumstances beyond my control.’

  Frankie folded her arms like a starchy schoolmistress. ‘Did those circumstances involve a bikini-clad blonde bombshell?’

  His eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘No. They did not.’

  ‘Then what kept you away?’

  The shutter came back down on his face. ‘Suffice it to say it was a crisis and I was the only person who could deal with it at that time.’

  She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. She had been surprised, and yes, hurt not to see him at the funeral. He had only visited her father once in the last two months of his life and she hadn’t been there at the time. She’d been out picking up more incontinence pads for her father and by the time she got back, the nurse on duty told her about Gabriel’s brief visit. She wondered now if it had been deliberate. She hadn’t realised how much she’d wanted to see him at the funeral until he didn’t show. She couldn’t explain why it had disappointed her so much other than she had felt completely overwhelmed with making all the arrangements on her own. And it was hard not to think it was her fault her mother and her twin brother Roberto hadn’t been there to help her.

  Frankie came out from behind the desk and went to stand in front of the windows that overlooked the parterre garden. She had spent most of her childhood playing in the gardens of the villa. It was her magical place, a place where she had exercised her imagination in order to make up for the absence of a mother and a sibling. She’d had a series of nannies and had never felt neglected in a physical sense. But emotionally she had felt isolated. Not necessarily unloved but not adored either.

  She breathed out a long sigh and turned back to face Gabriel. ‘Can I have a couple of days to think about this...proposal of yours?’

  ‘I need your answer today. The press is sniffing around and I can’t hold them off for ever.’

  Panic beat a tattoo behind her ribcage. Hurry. Stop. Hurry. Stop. Hurry. Stop. She had never been good at decision-making under pressure. Her thoughts fired off in all directions like a box of accidentally lit fireworks. Marriage was a big step. A monumental step that should not be entered lightly—not according to her values. But what else could she do? Other people would suffer if that money was not paid back soon. Her father had borrowed money from friends and associates and it would only take one of them to sell their story to the press for her father’s reputation to be permanently soiled.

  But marrying Gabriel Salvetti?

  Frankie covered her nose and mouth with her steepled hands, fighting to control her breathing. Everything was happening so fast. She didn’t have time to think. To measure the risks. To escape. The room began to shift around her. The walls closing in, the furniture dark and looming and oppressive. She needed to sit down before she fell down. She reached for the chair but it was like searching through vaporous fog...

  Suddenly a firm hand came down on her left arm to steady her. ‘Are you okay?’ Gabriel’s deep voice was full of concern. ‘Breathe, cara.’ He took both her hands and led her to the chair. ‘Put your head down between your knees.’ He guided her with a gentle hand pressed to the back of her head. ‘That’s it. Good girl.’

  Frankie took several breaths, trying not to notice how nice it felt to have Gabriel’s hand resting against her hair. A frisson of pleasure stole down from her scalp to her spine in a long streak of tickly warmth. He was standing so close to her she could feel the denim of his jeans through the silk sleeve of her top. And the potent heat of his muscled thigh. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been so close to a man. Well, she could but it wasn’t a time she wanted to recall in any detail.

  But this was different.

  Gabriel was different. He was respectful and caring in a way she had never expected him to be. His touch did strange things to her. Wicked things. Forbidden things. Unleashed thoughts and desires she couldn’t suppress even though she wanted to. They were racing through her mind, triggering wanton images of him and her with entangled limbs and mouths pressed together in a passionate kiss, their bodies straining, yearning to get even closer.

  Gabriel crouched down in front of her, his hand taking one of hers. ‘Feeling better now?’ His espresso-black gaze meshed with hers, making her feel dizzy all over again. Dizzy with the need to feel his mouth on hers. She moistened her lips and watched as he followed the movement of her tongue. His eyes came back to hers and it was like a switch had been flicked.

  The atmosphere tightened as if every stick of furniture in the room had taken a collective breath and held it. Held it. Held it...

  Frankie glanced down at her pale hand encased in his. His fingers were dusted with dark masculine hair, the nails neat and square. She couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on her body, touching her, pleasuring her. Awakening her. She tried to suppress a shiver but didn’t quite manage it. ‘I’m okay... I just felt a little faint...’

  Gabriel released her hand and straightened, briefly resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know my proposal must have come as a shock but I give you my word my motives are exactly as I’ve told you. There is no hidden agenda.’

  Frankie couldn’t hold his gaze. She didn’t want him to see the naked need that was stirring in her body. A need she hadn’t been aware of until now. She looked down at her hands resting on her thighs. ‘Marriage seems a little extreme, though. I mean, what will we do after the year is up?’

  ‘Get a divorce or an annulment.’ He said it so casually as if it was as simple as ticking a box.

  Frankie brought her gaze up to meet his. ‘But you don’t seem to be getting much out of the deal. You’re prepared to spend millions for what? To be known as my husband?’

  He moved
to where she had been standing a few minutes before. His back turned to her as he too looked at the view outside. After a moment, he turned to face her but the light from outside put his face in shadow so she couldn’t read his expression. ‘You read the papers, do you not? You must have heard of my father’s latest scandal?’ The hardened tone of his voice alerted her to the shame he must feel about the criminal behaviour of his family. ‘Drugs. The recent haul one of the biggest in the history of this country. Do you need me to go on?’

  Frankie shook her head and bit her lip. ‘No. It must be awful for you.’

  ‘Damn right it’s awful.’ He moved to stand behind her father’s desk, his hands gripping the back of the chair as she had done earlier. ‘It’s been virtually impossible to run my business lately. Deals have been cancelled at short notice. Big deals. Deals I worked on for months. Every time I turn up to a board meeting I can feel the tension, the uneasiness. Your situation is awful too, but we can fix both with a short-term marriage. It’s not as if you’re marrying a stranger. I will not treat you with anything but the utmost respect. You have my word on that.’

  Put like that, it sounded a perfect plan. The trouble was the devil was in the detail. Devilish details such as her growing awareness of him. The physical awareness she could feel even now. The faint prickle of her breasts every time his gaze skated over her figure. The tingle in her lips when his eyes rested on her mouth. The hollow burning ache between her thighs when she thought about him touching her there. Frankie crossed her legs in an effort to quell the sensation but, if anything, it made it worse. It made her more aware of the secret tingling urgings of her body. ‘But if we were to marry on paper, say, won’t people expect us to be affectionate with each other, at least in public if not in private?’