HELEN BIANCHIN - The Italian’s Ruthless Marriage Command

‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ he said quietly, as if again reading her mind, and speared her with a look that promised retribution.

She collected her bag and stood, only to stifle an audible gasp as his hand closed over her wrist.

‘Sit. Please,’ he added.

She glared at him. ‘Give me one reason why I should.’

‘Ben.’

The little boy’s image filled her mind, his solemn saddened eyes…and knew she’d give anything to provide a happy, healthy life for him. ‘It will never work.’

‘Lunch?’

Taylor gave him an exasperated look. ‘Sharing the same house.’

‘As far as Ben is concerned, given all your reasons, it’s the best option.’

She opened her mouth, then closed it again as the waiter appeared to take their order.

Dammit, she hadn’t even looked at the menu, let alone made a selection.

‘Taylor?’

She met the silent challenge in his gaze, hesitated, then ordered a Caesar salad, and waited until they were alone before venturing, ‘You employ unfair tactics.’ She lifted the goblet of iced water, took a sip, then carefully replaced it.

To his credit he didn’t attempt to misunderstand. ‘Had it been my initial suggestion, you would have immediately dismissed it out of hand.’

‘I have yet to agree,’ she ventured, and held his measured look.

‘Common sense ensures you will.’

Her eyes sharpened. ‘And if I don’t?’

Dante took his time before answering, ‘Then you leave me no option but to lodge an application to formally adopt Ben.’

CHAPTER TWO

SHOCK dilated Taylor’s eyes, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

‘You can’t do that,’ she managed shakily. ‘Such an action would contravene Leon and Casey’s will.’

Dante’s features held a compelling quality, and a chill shiver feathered the length of her spine.

‘Leon’s lawyer is witness to you declining each solution I presented.’ His voice held a silky softness that was totally lacking in arrogance, yet there was a dangerous quality evident beneath the surface. ‘Unless you choose to reverse your decision, you leave me little option but to take the matter to court.’

She didn’t trust herself to speak. At the very least she wanted to hit him, and if a mere look could kill he’d be dead.

‘Such a move would involve time and a large amount of money,’ Dante enlightened smoothly.

She owned her apartment, her car, and was debt-free, thanks to the popularity of her work. But when it came to wealth, Dante d’Alessandri won hands down.

‘Do you particularly want to go that route?’ he pursued silkily. ‘Subject Ben to unwarranted stress and trauma? Fund exhaustive legal fees?’ He waited a beat. ‘What will it achieve, other than an exercise in futility?’

‘Except at the end of the day you win.’ She attempted to keep the faint bitterness out of her voice, and was unsure she succeeded.

His eyes remained steady, inviolate. ‘This is about Ben,’ he reminded quietly. ‘And what’s best for him.’

It didn’t help that he was right. Or that she viewed his threatened alternative of adoption as totally unconscionable.

There was no way she’d allow that to happen, although she refused to give in easily without protest.

The waiter delivered their meal, and Taylor looked at the salad, contemplated her plate and wondered if she’d be able to eat so much as a morsel.

‘I don’t want to share a house with you.’ And if you comment I’m the first woman to say that, I’ll hit you.

He looked at her carefully, caught the fast-beating pulse at the base of her throat, and his eyes narrowed fractionally.

‘There’s a boyfriend on the scene who will object?’

A fleeting darkness clouded her eyes, then it was gone. ‘No.’ Betrayed trust ensured true friends were limited to a few, and acquaintances kept at a distance.

Interpreting body language and subtle nuances in the human voice was an art in which he excelled…an invaluable asset in the cut and thrust of international business dealings.

It took, Dante mused, an accomplished actress trained to submerge her own personality in order to assume that of the character she was contracted to play.

And somehow he doubted Taylor was playing a part. Yet he’d stake his reputation on there being something responsible for her chosen façade…even allowing for recent grief, and Ben’s welfare.

‘And you, Dante? Won’t your current mistress protest at your proposed live-in arrangement with another woman?’

‘No.’

Just… no ?

‘Eat,’ Dante bade and he began doing justice to the food on his plate.

The salad looked delicious…although her nerves were stretched too taut to appreciate the taste of food.

She declined dessert and settled for coffee, sweet, black and strong, aware it was also Dante’s choice, and when the waiter presented the bill she reached for her wallet…only to have Dante refuse her offer to pay her share.

‘There’s enough time to check out the house before we collect Ben.’

House? We? ‘I don’t think—’

‘We have an hour and a half,’ he enlightened as he ushered her out onto the pavement. All it took was a brief conversation via his mobile phone, and within minutes a black Mercedes slid in to the kerb.

Dante opened a door, ushered her into the rear seat, then he crossed round the vehicle and slipped in beside her, introduced his driver, Gianni, with friendly ease. Given Dante’s reputed ruthlessness in the business arena, she assumed he’d appear businesslike with his staff, and she sat in silence as he issued instructions to an address in Watson’s Bay, one of Sydney’s luxurious suburbs offering widespread panoramic harbour views.

House was a misnomer. Mansion seemed a more adequate description, Taylor conceded as the Mercedes swept through high, ornate remotely operated steel gates, circled a wide driveway and eased to a halt beneath a wide porte- cochère protecting broad double entrance doors of steel-strutted solid patterned wood.

Double-storeyed, the building resembled a Tuscan villa, with a cream and terra-cotta tiled roof, cream stucco exterior walls and, she saw when she entered the large lobby, cream marble floor tiles, beautiful rugs and solid mahogany furniture.

A middle-aged woman came forward to greet them. Dante introduced her as Anna, whose husband, Claude, maintained the grounds.

There were oil paintings gracing the walls, an elegant, sweeping double staircase, and a sparkling crystal chandelier hung suspended from a tall ceiling.

Taylor was supremely conscious of Dante’s close proximity as he showed her through the house.

The subtle tones of his cologne teased her senses, and, although he made no attempt at physical contact, she disliked the prickle of awareness stealing through her body.

She covered it well, making appropriate comments as they moved through the ground-level rooms, all of which were spacious, beautifully furnished, before moving to the upper level, which did, as Dante had indicated, contain two distinct wings, each containing guest suites with adjoining en suites . There was also a media room, a family lounge and two home offices.

It was, Taylor had to concede, a beautiful home, complemented by landscaped grounds, a large swimming pool with entry from the side of the house and completely enclosed with a solar-tinted glass roof and glass-panelled external walls.

There was no valid reason why Dante’s suggested living arrangement couldn’t work…with certain iron-clad provisos.

‘Any reservations you’d care to voice?’ Dante queried as they began descending the staircase, and she met his dark, probing look with equanimity.

‘A few.’

‘Then let’s hear them.’

She paused on one step and turned towards him, aware he copied her action.

‘I want to make it very clear Ben is the only reason I’ll accept your suggestion.’

‘So noted.’

‘The live-in arrangement is strictly business,’ she offered, and lifted a hand to cover the tell-tale thud at the base of her throat, ‘with all that statement implies.’

Dante looked at her for a long moment, aware she held his gaze with determined resolve, almost silently daring him to be the first to glance away.

Yet beneath the resolve he sensed unaccustomed wariness and a degree of fragility. Coupled with innate reserve, it was an interesting mix.

‘You have nothing to fear from me,’ he drawled, and saw a delicate pink tinge her cheeks an instant before she turned away and began stepping quickly down the stairs.

Dante checked his watch, alerted Gianni, then he followed Taylor down into the lobby and led the way to the waiting Mercedes.

It was a relatively trouble-free run from Vaucluse to Double Bay, and Dante turned slightly towards her as the car slid into a parking bay adjacent the kindergarten. ‘I’ll come with you.’

She could hardly refuse without sounding churlish, and she managed a polite response. ‘Ben will be pleased to see you.’

Dante’s presence drew attention as they crossed towards the kindergarten entrance, his tall, broad, impeccably tailored frame a stand-out from the few males gathered waiting to collect children.

Within minutes the outer door opened, and a carer took up position to ensure each child was collected by their designated parent or grandparent.

Taylor effected an introduction, drew attention to the fact she’d previously noted Dante as Ben’s legal guardian, whereupon relevant details were checked on the call-sheet, together with Dante’s mobile-phone number.

‘Please alter the residential address,’ Dante informed, and gave it. ‘Effective from today,’ he added smoothly.

Excuse me?

‘Isn’t this a little precipitate?’ she said quietly as they moved aside, and incurred his dark gaze.

‘There’s no reason to delay settling Ben into his new home.’

Taylor sent him a spearing look. ‘Tomorrow,’ she stated firmly. ‘It will allow him to become accustomed to the idea.’

Minutes later Ben was summoned by the carer, whereupon he moved quickly to the entrance, leant into her hug, then a smile broadened his mouth as he caught sight of Dante.

Without a word he raised his arms as Dante lifted him high against his chest and held him close.

‘Hello, Ben.’

‘Zio. You came. Taylor said you would.’ Ben looked at him solemnly. ‘Are you going to stay?’

‘Yes. Most of the time,’ Dante assured as he crossed the parking area.

‘Cool.’

One word, conveying much, and Taylor felt her heart melt a little…as it had so often these past few weeks, when all she wanted to do was hug him close and will back his laughter and joy of life.

Time. It will just take time, she assured silently as they reached the Mercedes, and she frowned with sudden anxiety. ‘Ben’s booster seat is in my car.’

Dante spared her a glance. ‘I had Gianni organise one this morning.’ He opened the rear door, saw Ben safely buckled in as she slid in beside her nephew, while Dante took the adjacent seat.

She knew she should credit Dante with forethought, but he was moving too fast, taking control…doubtless a power trait he’d skilfully honed as head of the d’Alessandri corporation.

Laudable, but Ben wasn’t a corporate commodity, and she intended to relay her viewpoint at the soonest possible moment.

A strange prickling sensation at the back of her neck caused her to spare a glance in Dante’s direction, and the breath stopped in her throat as she met his musing gaze.