Sweet Seduction (3 page)

Sienna dropped heavily into her chair. A weighty cloak of dread forced her further down. Had she really agreed to marry the wealthy, womanising Antonio Moretti? The man who wined and dined with the rich and famous and owned hotels in nearly every major city in the world?

She watched as Antonio casually reached for his briefcase. ‘Wait,’ she said, her spine suddenly rigid with fear. What would happen next? What was she supposed to do? ‘That’s it? You’re leaving?’

He threw her a bemused glance. ‘Missing me already?’

She gave him her best death stare. ‘Don’t we need to discuss the details?’

‘I’ll have a contract drawn up for you to sign this afternoon. The terms will be agreeable.’

The terms dominating her mind wouldn’t be included in any legal document. Marriage tended to be accompanied by love, passion – sex. An image of her ripping the shirt from his chest seared across her mind.

‘We need . . .’ She swallowed as her imaginary hands moved to his trousers. His near-black eyes surveyed her with such intensity she feared he could read her mind. Breathing became an exercise in concentration. The image moved from hot to X-rated.

‘We need some ground rules,’ she blurted, jumping from her seat, hoping the jarring movement would dislodge the spicy fantasy.

‘Ground rules?’ He placed his briefcase on the floor and leant against the doorjamb.

Was Antonio Moretti the most infuriating man alive? Real marriages were complicated enough. Fake ones, she felt sure, infinitely more so. What did he think? They’d pretend to be married? He’d acquire the hotel? They’d annul the marriage? Done.

‘Don’t we need to discuss . . .’ Would they elope? Where would they live? Where would they sleep? Suddenly it seemed very important to tidy up the few paperclips scattered around her desk.

‘Discuss?’

When she finally met his eyes, his casual smile remained. Curse the man. He knew exactly what she was getting at. She walked around her desk. He needed to understand this loud and clear. But the intensity of Antonio’s scrutiny made it difficult to think.

‘Obviously in public. However . . .’ she began.

His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Yes?’ he coaxed in a deep, magnetic voice.

‘Obviously I won’t be required to . . .’ It was as though Antonio’s eyes stole her words before she could form them. They needed rules, definitely needed rules. If having him fully dressed across the room elicited such erotic mind games, how could she trust herself when they were actually married? ‘I want to make it clear this marriage is for public consumption only. There will be no . . . no sex.’

‘If you insist,’ he said dismissively, as if they were discussing the weather.

‘Right.’ She knew she should feel relieved but deep down there was a tinge of regret. Beautiful she might be to him, but obviously not desirable. ‘Just wanted to be clear,’ she mumbled.

‘It is important our marriage looks authentic.’ He took a step towards her. ‘For example . . .’

Before Sienna could react, Antonio pulled her into his arms. His hard body pressed against her from chest to thigh. A fire of desire swept through her. It’d been so long since anyone had held her. But this was unacceptable. She pushed him back.

‘What do you think —’ she started.

He laid a finger on her lips. She knew logically she should protest but Antonio seemed to have taken command of her mind and her body.

‘Sienna, relax,’ he said in a low voice that demanded attention. ‘You’ll have to get used to me touching you. Put your arms around me.’

This was crazy. The whole plan – mental. She should reconsider. Instead she slid her arms about his body. The coolness of his shirt vanished as her body pressed against his warmth. She tried to remain rigid, but melted into his body, hopelessly lost to his power. She closed her eyes as her heart skipped beat after beat.

‘I assume this is acceptable, yes?’ he asked.

‘Fine,’ she managed to whisper. She fought the desire to run her hands down his back. To touch him more.

‘And of course we will be required to kiss.’

She tensed. Her body responded far too readily to this situation. She needed to regain control.

She needed to think.

She needed to remember this man could take her hotel with the flick of a pen.

She wriggled free from his embrace and put as much distance between them as her office allowed. ‘I’m sure we can manage when the time comes,’ she said in her best professional voice.

‘I’m sure we can,’ he said, his voice lethal.

Those dark eyes followed her every move. She felt like a bunny in the headlights, powerless against an oncoming force.

‘I’ll have my lawyer prepare the contract this afternoon and courier it over for you to review,’ he said.

‘Fine.’ She needed to get him out of her office so she could think.

‘I propose the marriage term be for one year. After that we’ll apply for a divorce.’

‘Yes . . . of course . . . divorce.’ The words tumbled out.

‘Obviously the contract will include a prenuptial agreement that ensures our assets remain our own and we have no rights to each other’s property.’

‘Of course.’ She took a step towards the door.

He picked up his briefcase. ‘I’ll see you in Venice in three weeks.’

Her head snapped up. An icy chill engulfed her.

‘Three weeks?’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I can’t leave here in three weeks.’

‘You’ll have to. I’m on a tight timeframe.’

‘What about the hotel?’ she said, spreading her hands wide. ‘I do run this place, you know.’ She didn’t care about the rising irritation in her voice. How dare he think she could disappear off to Italy? Did he have no idea the place would fall apart without her?

‘Don’t worry, I’ll have my best man here by tomorrow. You’ll have plenty of time to hand over.’

‘I don’t want some lackey coming in here —’

‘I’m sending Brad Hindmarsh.’

Her jaw dropped. Antonio’s second-in-charge, the man who’d won every hotelier award in the business. Even a veteran hotelier like her father idolised the man. Perhaps Brad could reignite her father’s passion for the hotel.

‘Brad can manage things for the next few months,’ he said.

‘Few months?’ So much time in Italy . . . with Antonio. She’d shaken his hand but hadn’t even begun to think through the implications.

‘Yes, that should do it initially.’

‘Right, of course.’ Everything was far from right.

Antonio glanced at his watch. Clearly he wanted to leave. A few minutes ago she’d have given anything to remove him from her office but now she needed him. Needed his guidance.

‘It would be best to get things wrapped up today,’ he continued, oblivious to her plight. ‘There’s some planning to be done.’

‘Yes.’ She wondered if he knew at that moment she could barely string words together. Cross with herself, she tried to focus. ‘Yes, lots to be done.’ Could she sound any more inane?

He looked at her closely and held out his hand. ‘Until Venice,’ he said.

She took his hand. He pulled her close, landed a light kiss on each cheek and left. Heat burned in her face. Was that satisfaction that glowed in his eyes? Was she just another in a series of women who gave him what he wanted?

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t tear her eyes from his retreating figure. He walked to the lift, hit a button and waited. Would he turn? The lift opened, he entered and pressed the down button. Then his eyes were upon her. In the few seconds before the lift closed it was as though he’d looked into her very soul.

When the doors blocked him from view she dropped into the visitor’s chair, put her elbows on her thighs, lowered her head into her hands and closed her eyes. Half an hour ago she’d been about to lose the Plaza. She’d prayed for a miracle. But Antonio Moretti didn’t look or operate like an angel. Her eyes flicked open.

No, she’d made a pact with the devil.

‘Oh no.’

Sienna caught a glimpse of herself in the glass as she emerged from the aeroplane. Even though Antonio had booked her a first-class ticket, she felt as though she’d been dragged through a bush backwards. She’d forgotten to pack a brush, and the comb the flight attendant supplied hadn’t made a dent on her bird’s nest of hair. She’d spilt coffee down her suit and had to change into the tracksuit she’d planned to sleep in.

Dragging her fingers through her hair, she joined the queue for passport control. Nothing a nice hot bath wouldn’t fix. Thank goodness Antonio wasn’t meeting her at the airport – he’d said he’d send a car to take her to the hotel.

She quickly passed through customs and into the arrivals hall . . . and chaos. Rapid-fire Italian all around her, people everywhere and nothing seemed organised. She smiled and turned slowly in a full circle. She’d finally made it to Europe and already loved it. She’d never felt so alive. Maybe it had something to do with flying first class. She still couldn’t believe such luxury existed forty thousand feet above the ground.

‘Ciao, bella,’ a young man said, smiling broadly as his eyes lingered just a little too long.
Ah, Italy. Just as she’d always imagined.

A camera flash caught her eye. Then another and another. A pack of photographers hovered in a crowd that moved slowly in her direction.

Sienna stood on tippy toes. How exciting. Just arrived and already she’d see someone famous.

The pack broke and Antonio surged towards her. The fury in his eyes wiped away her tentative smile. Camera flashes blinded her. She held her hands to shield her face. Why was . . .?

The realisation hit her just as Antonio wound his arms around her. With him, she was front-page news. Terror slid across her skin.

Antonio bent his head close to her ear. ‘What are you wearing?’ he hissed.

Her whole body stiffened as he kissed her. His lips were hard and cold.

‘Sorry everyone, we have to go,’ he announced to the pack surrounding them.

Within a few seconds she found herself in the gloom of the back seat of a limousine. Cameras pressed up against the glass and continued their ferocious attack. She held up her hand to shield her eyes from the blinding flashes. Antonio barked out instructions and the limo pulled away from the kerb. He looked behind and instructed the driver to lose the tailing journalists.

Sienna felt like a scolded schoolgirl but she was also angry. She’d left her life to fly to the other side of the world and this was how he greeted her.

‘I think we’ve lost them.’ Antonio directed his comment to the driver and then turned his eyes to her. She tried to hold his gaze but his dark expression made it difficult.

‘Didn’t you read the contract?’ he demanded.

Of course she’d read the contract. Fear attacked her nerve endings. She hadn’t let the family lawyer read it, as she’d been sure he’d have tried to talk her out of such a ludicrous proposal. What had she missed?

‘Of course I read it,’ she said.

‘Then you would know you need to be presentable at all times. This —’ he waved his hand at her dull tracksuit, ‘— does not comply.’

She straightened in her seat. ‘I’ve been on a plane for twenty-four hours. What did you expect?’ She could explain about the spilt coffee, but why bother?

‘I expect you to be presentable at all times. The ticket was for first class. What did you do? Cash it in?’

Even as exhausted as she felt, anger rose in her like a wave. ‘I didn’t know you were going to meet me with half the world’s press. You said a car would collect me.’

‘I had a tip-off someone leaked your arrival to the press. I didn’t want you to face that pack alone.’

He’d been trying to protect her? Some of the anger dissipated but she wasn’t about to let him get away with how he’d spoken to her. ‘Next time you change the plans, perhaps you could let me know,’ she said.

‘No need,’ he said. ‘I’ll manage anything that comes our way.’

‘Not that you care, but I’m hardly going to spend money on clothes,’ she said. ‘I have a loan to pay off.’

Antonio rummaged in his pocket for his mobile phone and punched a few buttons. Sienna listened to him organising her a credit card in rapid Italian. He snapped the phone shut.

‘A credit card will be delivered this afternoon to the hotel,’ he said. ‘You can buy anything you need.’

Anything she needed. How about a million-dollar paint job, new furniture in three hundred rooms and smart wiring for the Plaza conference floor? The card probably had no limit, so why not go for the entire ten-million-dollar refurbishment? But she wouldn’t use the card unless absolutely necessary. She didn’t want to be indebted any further to this man.