Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
She shook her head. ‘I wonder the same about you, Donato. I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you.’
‘That’s nothing new.’ His voice was harsh. ‘I’ve been trouble all my life.’ He smiled. ‘You, on the other hand, have always been a good girl.’
Ella’s chin jerked up. ‘How do you know?’
‘It’s not an insult, you know.’ Donato laughed. This time there was amusement in that dark-chocolate chuckle. ‘How do I know? Because you’re the Sanderson who works for a living instead of dabbling with other people’s money.’
‘My brother works.’
Donato shrugged. ‘That remains to be seen. He’s spent the last couple of years on your father’s payroll. Besides, you’re the one who’s here, holding the fort. You’re the one your father turned to. The one who’s made a career caring for people.’
‘That doesn’t make me a saint.’
‘Absolutely not. I’m not interested in saints.’ Donato trailed a finger from her jaw, down her throat to her breast. Instantly Ella’s breath stalled as her body softened, need rising.
It took far too long to break from his sensual spell and step away. Ella drew her hands from him so she could lean back against the clifftop wall.
‘You’re right. We need to talk.’ Yet his eyes held that slumberous blue heat that was like an invitation to sin. An invitation she’d never yet been able to resist.
Finally Donato moved to lean on the wall, his gaze on the horizon. Ella stared at his strong profile, still dazed by the upsurge of hormones jangling in her body.
‘You want to know about my past.’
‘I’m not after cheap thrills.’
‘I know. I shouldn’t have said that. I realised from the first you were different from other women.’
Different? How? Immediately part of her brain started cataloguing all the ways she didn’t measure up, with her less than svelte figure, her discomfort in society gatherings, her inability to charm—
Then Ella realised what she was doing. Fuzz was right. She’d listened to her father too much.
‘I want to know you, Donato, and I believe that means understanding some of your past. But if you don’t want to talk about it, I can respect that.’ She was getting to know Donato in other ways.
‘Didn’t I say you were different?’ But he didn’t look at her, just drew a deep breath. ‘I was born in inner city Melbourne. Our rooms were cramped and I played indoors or in back alleys. When I was tiny I always saw the sky in little slices between buildings. That’s given me a love of wide-open spaces.’
Ella nodded. He’d said as much before.
‘I lived with my mother. I never knew my father.’
‘That must have been hard.’ True, she’d have been happier without her father in her life, but that wasn’t the case for everyone.
There was so much tension in the bunched muscles of Donato’s shoulder and arm she almost reached out, but something held her back. Then he turned and the look in his eyes fixed her to the spot.
‘Harder than you can imagine. My mother was a prostitute. She had no idea who my father was and didn’t want to know.’
Ella blinked, shock blasting her.
‘Apparently by the time the brothel owners found out she was pregnant it was too late for a safe abortion. She’d hidden it as long as possible because, strange as it seems, she wanted to keep me.’ The shadow of a smile crossed his face. ‘She believed a baby was a blessing. That’s why she named me Donato—a gift. Luckily it turned out some of the punters liked pregnant woman so she got to keep me.’
‘Your mother told you that?’ Ella couldn’t keep the horror from her voice.
Donato shook his head. ‘I overheard her talking about it when I was older.’
Ella sagged against the waist-high wall. Was it her imagination or had he implied her mother might have been forced into an abortion otherwise?
‘When I was six Jack took us away from the city. He was a client of my mother’s and he fell in love with her, even agreed to take me on too. He smuggled us away and we lived with him for years in an old house with a vegetable garden out the back and a climbing tree at the front.’
Ella stared. ‘Your mother fell in love with him?’
Donato’s expression told her she was impossibly naïve. ‘He had a steady job and he was never violent. He cared for her and he was willing to accept me as well.’ He paused. ‘If you’d known our lives before you’d know how precious that was.’
Silently Ella nodded. As a nurse, she knew how tough life was for many. Yet, despite his time in prison, she’d never expected something like this was hiding in Donato’s past.
‘Did you like him?’
‘He protected my mother. And he gave us something like a normal life for years. I went to school, he worked and my mother cooked and cleaned. She smiled a lot too. Sometimes I even heard her sing.’ His expression softened. ‘She was beautiful, you know. Really beautiful. But life had worn her down. When we lived with Jack she blossomed.’
‘He sounds like a good man.’ At least Ella hoped he was.
Donato shrugged. ‘He had a short temper and an old-fashioned approach to discipline, but he never laid a hand on her.’ Something in his voice told Ella Donato would have put up with any amount of discipline if it meant keeping his mother happy.
‘He died when I was twelve and everything changed.’
‘What happened?’
‘He hadn’t left a will and his house went to a sister. My mother and I were out on the street and she took to prostitution again to support us. Social services found out and took me away.’ A muscle in his jaw spasmed. ‘I didn’t like being in care. I kept running away to find her. I didn’t last long in foster care. I got a reputation for being difficult.’
Ella tried to imagine Donato at twelve, parted from his mother for the first time. He was tenacious and strong and he obviously cared greatly for his mother. Of course he’d run away to look for her.
Her hand found his on the stone wall and he looked around, startled.
‘It’s too late for sympathy, Ella. I was a tough kid and it was a long time ago.’ Yet he didn’t move his hand.
‘Where is she now? In Melbourne?’ She’d bet one of the first things Donato had done when he became successful was provide for his mother.
‘She’s dead.’ The bald words stunned her.
‘Dead?’
He nodded. ‘Battered by a client.’ His voice dripped venom. ‘She died later of her injuries.’
‘Oh, Donato. I’m so sorry.’ Ella squeezed his hand. She remembered how lost she’d felt when her mother died. She couldn’t imagine the trauma of losing someone as a result of a violent crime. ‘How old were you?’
‘A teenager.’ Beneath her touch his hand tightened. Energy vibrated through him. ‘But I tracked him down when the police didn’t have enough evidence to convict him. I made him pay.’
‘That’s why you went to prison? You found the man responsible for your mother’s death?’
Donato nodded. ‘There was a problem with the scientific evidence and the only witness was another prostitute. The lawyers made mincemeat of her evidence and he walked free.’
Ella struggled to absorb it all. She’d thought Donato might have tried to protect someone in that fight.