The Sicilian's Proposition (9 page)

He removed his T-shirt and she saw that wide expanse of his chest once more; now she would have a chance to run her fingers over it. He removed his jeans and pants and kissed her between her legs, imbibing her inner core. This sensation had never happened before. A charge coursed around her body. Then he smiled and drew close, climbing on the bed beside her. He fiercely kissed her, and then splayed her legs apart as he entered her, slowly filling her inner being as she gasped.

He swept a lock of her hair away from her face and trailed a finger to trace the outline of her lips. She licked it and took the whole finger in her mouth as he filled her.

Every so often an electrical impulse traveled around her body, until she could stand it no more. Then she shuddered as a small wave washed over her, getting bigger and bigger until finally the waves were crashing on the rocks. It was the most delicious feeling she had ever experienced.

So this is what it feels like. This is what the poets and authors write about. And he had made that happen for her.

“Oh Dante,” she murmured.

She watched as his eyes widened, and he shuddered as his desire spent inside her. “Oh
amore mio
,” he cried out. “I love you.”

Love? He loved her?
She had not even considered that an option before.
Wasn’t it some sort of holiday romance?

He studied her face and then rolled off and laid beside her, his breaths short and shallow, and then he turned. “What’s the matter, Joanne? Did I not please you?”

“Oh you did, definitely. But you just said you loved me. Are you serious?”

He blinked. “Of course I am. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” In all honesty, apart from her father, no man had ever said he loved her before.

“Well, Joanne, I love you and you are just going to have to get used to it.”

She turned over and smiled to herself, hugging the pillow. He drew close and cuddled her from behind. This was a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. Only one thing concerned her. Wasn’t it only a few months ago he had been in love with Carla? She closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

***

The following morning they were awoken by banging on the hotel bedroom door. Dante rose and put on a white toweling dressing gown that was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. He unlocked the door. A small man stood there, and he spoke to him in Italian. There appeared to be some sort of urgency to his voice. They spoke for a couple of minutes, and all the while Dante kept turning and looking back at Joanne.

“What’s the matter, Dante?” Joanne asked when the man had departed.

“It’s Ponti.” He shook his head. “He was found dead last night, Joanne. We have to get back. I need to see my sister.”

“But how? Why?”

“I’ve no idea.” He dropped his dressing gown on the floor and tugged on his discarded jeans and T-shirt. We’ll get out of here. We can have coffee and something to eat on the boat on the way back. I’m going to ring my sister to tell her I’m on my way.”

What the implications were of this, Joanne had no idea. Dante had been extremely angry with the man last night, and it was fortunate he hadn’t laid a finger on him. He’d also been in her company all night, so at least he would have an alibi.

The blood flowing through her body turned to ice. Although he had been with her, she had slept heavily last night. The wine at the restaurant, the champagne afterwards, the lovemaking, all had made her sleepy. Could she be certain he’d been with her all night long?

She pushed the thought to one side. No, that was ridiculous. He was a good man. Yet she had been shocked to see that other side of him last night.

“Please hurry, Joanne!” he shouted as she tried to make sense of her thoughts.

“Yes, okay.” She rushed off to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water.

What had she got herself into? Was Dante the man she thought he was? Had she made love last night to a man with blood on his hands? She shivered as she hurried to dress.

It was time to get back on the boat and leave this beautiful island and last night’s mystery behind, at least for now.

***

On the journey back, he was quiet. Too quiet. She took him a coffee and left him alone at the helm. Then she went below deck and tried to ring Polly but couldn’t get a signal on her phone.

Blast.

There were questions that needed answering. She looked around the boat for any clues she could find to discover what kind of man Dante Alphonso was. But apart from the fine wines he had in his drinks cabinet and a few family photographs, there were none.

Could this be the same Dante Alphonso who had held her in his arms while she cried as she related the tale of her father’s tragic demise? What did she know about him other than what she read in magazines and newspapers and what he chose to tell her himself? Yet there had been no suggestion that he was a bad person. Being a playboy didn’t make a man a murderer.

“Joanne.” She heard his muffled voice call from above.

She drained the last of her coffee and appeared on deck beside him.

“Are you all right,
amore mio
?”

She loved it when he called her “my love” in Italian, but now what did it mean? It was almost as though he were someone else. An evil twin maybe? Then he shot her a warm sincere smile that melted her heart, and beyond all shadow of a doubt, this man was not a murderer. He wasn’t capable of it. Capable of anger, yes. Capable of fighting another man if need be, but capable of taking a life, never. Not unless it was to save another’s life.

“Yes, I’m okay,” she said as images of their lovemaking last night came to mind.

“Come here,” he beckoned.

She went to him without hesitation, content to be safe in his arms. He kissed her forehead. “I know you are frightened, Joanne. Please do not be. Ponti is a bad man. There are other things I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widened with interest.

“He was involved in organized crime. I warned my sister about this years ago, but by then she had fallen for him. He was made a
capo
, a captain in the Mafia. He’s done a lot of bad things, Joanne. I think his plan with regard to Carla was to get control of her family vineyard. There have been many people gunning for him over the years. He made a lot of enemies, not just myself. He was thought to be responsible for the death of a local politician and his wife many years ago, but there was never any proof. I believe he had the inside knowledge to set it up. He was a very powerful man. The couple was on their way to the airport for a trip to Italy when a sniper shot them from long range. He had enemies both in the
Cosa Nostra
and in the good people of this island. I think he was already a marked man. How Carla could have got caught up with him, especially after all the things I told her….” He shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line.

She let out a breath of relief. It was awful beyond belief, but it explained a lot. How could she ever tell Dante that for a short while, for less than an hour, she thought him capable of murdering a man? It was something she needed to keep to herself. Would he ever forgive her if he found out?

“But that’s awful. It sounds as if he might have been a sitting target for years then?”

“Oh yes. The politician concerned was intent on wiping out organized crime on the island, and he had many supporters. His wife, too, did a lot of good work. People were appalled by it.”

It must have been difficult for Dante to watch his sister and her children living with such a man; he must have gone through hell worrying about their safety. Well at least now they were a little safer without him being around. Brightening, she asked, “So, you plan to visit your sister today?”

“Absolutely. I will go to her home to see if there is anything I can do for her and the children. At a time like this, a family needs to stick together. I’d better not take you with me under the circumstances.”

“I perfectly understand that.” It would give her time to work on the feature article. She’d ring Polly to explain as soon as she got back to the hotel and ask for a few hours grace.

Dante dropped Joanne back at the hotel. She inquired at reception after Byrne’s whereabouts and discovered he’d booked a flight out a couple of hours ago. That was strange. He must have booked his own flight back. Maybe Polly needed him urgently for another assignment. His work here was finished.

She tried ringing the London office only to be informed her editor was in an all-day meeting. Typical, when she needed to speak to her. She tried Polly’s mobile phone, but it went through to voice mail.

Back at her hotel room, she took a long shower, luxuriating in the thoughts of last night’s lovemaking session. He had been such a tender, understanding lover. It was as if he knew what made her tick. No man had ever done that before. Not that she’d been with many, but they seemed more concerned about their own welfare than hers. She tingled at the thought of his hands trailing a blaze along her body and the butterfly kisses on her stomach. That had been most erotic. With any luck, there would be more to come.

She dressed and took her laptop and a cold cola from the fridge out onto the balcony to work on the article. It would be finished within the next couple of hours. Most of the work was done. She just needed to include the visit to the vineyard and a little more of the man on his own turf. Then along with Byrne’s photographs, the article would be complete.

She worked at a steady pace for about an hour or so, and then took a break to lie down on the bed and phone room service for something to eat before she returned to work. Working to a deadline was nothing new to her.

By four p.m., the article was ready to e-mail to Polly.

She rubbed her aching back and closed her eyes for a moment. How was Dante coping at his sister’s home? She didn’t envy him the task of taking care of the grieving widow and her children, but even so, he must be relieved that Ponti was out of the picture.

She fired off a quick e-mail to Polly, apologizing for the lateness of her article, added the file attachment, and pressed the Send button on her laptop. She sat back, relieved it was off her hands. Now she could enjoy the rest of her stay without Byrne’s sarcasm or Polly on her back.

There was no sign of Dante for the rest of the day or the evening, for that matter. She didn’t want to intrude into his family’s grief, so she kept herself occupied by taking advantage of sunbathing by the hotel’s pool and opening a bestselling novel she’d promised herself she’d get around to reading. She ensured her phone was by her side and kept hoping for a call from him or even a text message, but there were none.

After breakfast the following morning, she went for a walk and had coffee at the seafront. It was so peaceful. He had been right. Sicily was a healing place for her. She closed her eyes and inhaled a wonderful fragrance. What was it? She asked the waiter, who explained it was jasmine. If only she could bottle what she was feeling right now, the peace, the warmth, the scent, she’d keep it forever and dip into it on a cold winter night back home.

She almost drifted away in her thoughts but became aware of a presence casting a shadow over her. Opening her eyes, she blinked several times, looked up from her chair, and put her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, which was dazzling her from over the man’s shoulder. Recognition dawned. “Dante, what are you doing here? How did you know where I was?”

He did not smile as usual. His mouth was set in a thin, firm line, his eyes as dark as coal. “I followed you, Joanne.”

His words did not trip so beautifully off his tongue, either. What was the matter with him?

“Please sit down,” she gestured to the chair beside her. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“This is what’s wrong.” He slapped a magazine down on the table in front her.

At once, she recognized it as
Celebrity Today
. It posed as a glossy publication, but it contained tittle-tattle about various movie stars, pop singers, and other celebrities.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well I do. You betrayed me, Joanne, like the others.” He looked sad for a moment, hurt, wounded.

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t. I would never do that to you.”

He opened the center pages that bore the headline,
Playboy Took Me to Paradise
by Joanne Smith.

She blinked several times, trying to take it all in. There were shots of her and Dante holding hands, kissing in the street, others of him at the vineyard and outside the hotel.

She grabbed hold of the magazine and read the offending article. It spoke of their night of passionate lovemaking in Lipari. How he was a beast in the bedroom and he had an insatiable desire for women.

“But…I don’t understand…I didn’t write this, Dante. These are not my words.”

He drew up close to her and spat out the words as if they were poisonous venom. “Joanne, how can I ever trust you again?”

“But you can, Dante.” The mere suggestion wounded her to the core.

“This so-called article of yours damaged me. I never want to see you again. I want you out of my brother’s hotel and off the island by tomorrow.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. No amount of protesting was going to satisfy him. Of course, Byrne had to be behind this. No wonder he left before she got back to the hotel. He had somehow followed them to Lipari. It wouldn’t have taken much to bribe some devious fisherman to follow them or take a scheduled boat trip to find them. He must have snapped photographs of them walking through the streets while they stopped for a kiss, and then followed them to the hotel and realized without a shadow of a doubt they had slept together. Did he hate her that much to sink so low? It was a cheap violation. He had turned something beautiful into something seedy and sordid.

It saddened her Byrne had done this, but it saddened her even more Dante doubted her, but hadn’t she doubted him also, just the other day?

“I trust you’ll find your own way back home. I brought you here at my own expense, but it has been at a price. It has cost me my honor and my heart.” He turned and walked away, his shoulders hunched. A defeated man.

A shot of pain sliced through her heart. He might as well have thrust a dagger through it. Her eyes filled with tears, and a lump in her throat made it difficult to swallow. But she was a fighter, always had been and always would be. She had to regain his trust, had to let him know that she would never let him down, not like Carla had.

He might feel defeated, but she wasn’t. In the heat of the moment, if she blamed Byrne, he might not believe her. To Dante, she was just another one of those bloodhound journalists setting him up. She needed to prove her innocence.

She decided to try getting in touch with Polly to see what she had to say about it all and whether Byrne had said anything to her. No doubt he was well-paid for that particular article. The magazine seemed to thrive on knocking celebrities off their pedestals, putting them down for all the world to see, even more so if it was connected to sex and scandal.

The problem for Dante was he no longer wanted that kind of image due to his charitable work. This could do him a lot of damage. She wondered how he got hold of the magazine in the first place.

***

He buried his head in his hands. How had it all come to this? It had taken some time, but he had built up his trust in Joanne. Maybe her intense dislike of the photographer had been an act and they were in it together. He wished he hadn’t agreed to the interview in the first place. Journalists had always twisted his words or made them up. The paparazzi had ensured they staked out the best spots to see him emerging with the latest lovely on his arm. They were merciless. It didn’t matter to them which woman he was with; they turned it into a well-used tale of “The Playboy and the Floozy”.

He picked up his mobile phone and punched in his lawyer’s number. Well the magazine wasn’t going to get away with it; he’d fight back. He was like a boxer who hit the floor during the final count but bounced back to life again. Down but not out. He arranged to see the lawyer that afternoon. With any luck, maybe they could file a lawsuit against the publication to stop further copies going to press.

All of this on top of his family’s grief. Most of them didn’t care for Ponti, but he knew his sister still loved the man she married; her children were half his. He had to respect that. He had spent most of yesterday taking care of them all. He was going to make the funeral arrangements once the police released the body.

Oh Joanne, why did you betray me? If ever I needed you, it’s here, right now.

He shuddered when he thought about their recent lovemaking; what an actress she was. Ruthless enough to sleep with someone, though, to get a scoop? But it had happened to him before with a female journalist at another trashy publication. Had Joanne made up her trauma out on the boat the other day? What about her father drowning? Perhaps she had done that to evoke his sympathy?

How could he trust another journalist, or another woman, come to that?

***

“So, you haven’t received Jackson Byrne’s photos? And you definitely didn’t request he get back to London, Polly?” Joanne had finally got through to her editor at the office.

“No. I received your article, though, and I’m very pleased with it. Nice job. What’s the matter? You sound concerned.”

Joanne bit her lip, her knuckles turning white as they tightened around her mobile phone. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Byrne has sold the photographs from our shoot to
Celebrity Today
magazine…”

“What? But that’s preposterous; he was supposed to be working for us.”

“Not only that. It appears he’s written an exposé style article using my name about my night with Dante Alphonso. It’s a full center spread.”

“Joanne…?” There was a long pause.

“Yes, Polly, we were intimate, but the article was a lie. It criticized Mr. Alphonso and made him sound sleazy. He’s had enough bad publicity. Byrne must have followed us to Lipari and taken a few shots.”

“I can’t believe you were so stupid, Joanne.”

She felt a lump in her throat. Yes, she had been stupid; she had given her heart and soul to the man, and now he mistrusted her and wanted her off the island.

She loosened her grip on the phone and let out a breath of exasperation. “I’ll hand my resignation in as soon as I get back. Dante’s angry. He thinks I set him up, he wants me to leave.”

Joanne heard Polly sigh at the other end. “Look. I don’t want you to resign. You’re a damn good journalist, Joanne. I’m going to seek legal advice to try to stop any more photographs circulating in any more gossip magazines. I want to slam an injunction on
Celebrity Today
to stop any more copies going to press. Byrne has collected his thirty pieces of silver, so I doubt he’ll show up here again. I need ethical people working for this publication. I know you made a mistake, but you have principles.”

Joanne’s heart rate steadied to a slower beat and her breathing returned to normal once more. She wasn’t going to lose her job, but she had lost something far more precious.

“Thank you, Polly. That means a lot.”

“I know we’ve had our ups and downs, and you’ve never been afraid to say what you think, but I’ve always respected that about you. Can you arrange a flight back home?”

“Yes, I’ll get to the airport right away.”

“Don’t worry, I have a contact in Italy with another magazine. I’ll get them to dispatch a photographer to Mr. Alphonso to take some more photographs. Byrne’s already handed in the ones taken in London at The Children’s Hope and Dream Foundation and at the hotel suite. I’ll speak to Mr. Alphonso myself about it. You just get yourself back over here, safe and sound.”

Joanne was in tears when she got off the phone. Although her editor could be like a fiery dragon at times when crossed, she also had a heart of gold if a member of her staff needed support. Composing herself, she took the elevator to reception and asked for details of how to book a flight back home. One would be leaving early tomorrow morning. She needed to get back home and she yearned for comfort. Dante was right about one thing, she needed to make contact with her mother. At a time like this, there was no place like home.