A Night In His Arms: Captive in the Spotlight / Meddling with a Millionaire / How to Seduce a Billionaire. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
He seemed riveted to the movement and she suppressed a surge of satisfaction. So, he wasn’t as remote as he appeared. The knowledge gave her a sliver of hope.
‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I have a proposition for you.’
‘Really? I’d have thought I was the last woman you’d ever proposition, Signor Volpe.’
His gaze darted to her face and she read simmering anger there. She could deal with anger. She clung to her own like a lifeline. It was preferable to the other feelings he evoked.
‘Do tell,’ she purred. ‘I’m all ears.’
She had to bite back a smile when a frown furrowed his brow. She liked the fact that she pricked his self-possession. It wasn’t fair that even scowling he still looked lethally gorgeous. Not that she cared.
‘You want privacy and peace from the press. I want you out of the limelight. Our interests coincide.’
‘So?’
‘So I’d like to make the situation permanent.’
It was Lucy’s turn to frown. ‘I don’t understand.’
He pushed a typed document towards her. ‘Read that and you will. I’ve had it drawn up in English.’
‘How considerate.’ Perhaps he thought her Italian, learned behind bars, was inadequate. He had no idea the hours she’d spent poring over Italian legal documents.
She slid the paper towards her. It was a contract. She turned the page, heart racing as she read what he planned. She could barely believe it.
Finally she sat back. ‘You really are desperate to keep me quiet.’
His dark eyes gleamed. ‘Hardly desperate.’
‘No? A lot of people would be fascinated to know how much you’re offering to stop me talking.’
His look turned baleful. His voice when it came was a lethal whisper scudding through the silence. ‘Is that a threat?’
‘No threat, Signor Volpe. An observation.’
His eyes pinioned her and her breathing grew shallow. But she refused to be intimidated.
‘I want peace for my family.’ Yet his eyes didn’t plead, they demanded. ‘You can’t say the offer isn’t generous.’
‘Generous?’ The money on the table was stupefying. Enough to fund that new start in life she’d longed for. Enough to establish herself immediately, even though what was left of her family rejected her. Looked at that way, it was tempting.
‘On condition that I don’t talk about your brother, his wife, their son, their household, you or anyone associated with your family or the court case.’ She ticked the list off on her fingers. ‘Nor could I discuss my time in jail or the legal proceedings.’
Indignation settled like a burning ember, firing her blood. ‘I’d be gagged from making any comment, ever.’
‘You have to earn the money I’m offering.’ He shrugged those powerful shoulders, leaning back behind the massive desk, symbol of the power he wielded.
‘Earn!’ Lucy was sick of being the one ground down by those in authority. The one forced to carry the blame.
Searing anger sparked from that slow burning ember in her belly. She pushed the document across the desk.
‘No.’
‘Pardon?’
Lucy loved his perplexed expression. How many people said no to this man? She bet precious few women ever had.
‘I’m not interested.’
‘You’ve got to be joking. You need money.’
‘How do you know that?’ She leaned forward. ‘Don’t tell me you managed to access my private bank details.’ She shook her head. ‘That would be a criminal offence.’
His teeth bared in a grimace that told her he fought to retain his temper. Good. Goading him was the closest she’d get to revenge and she was human enough to revel in it.
‘If you expect a better offer you’ll have a long wait. My price is fair.’
‘Fair?’ Her voice rose. ‘No price is fair if I can’t tell my side of the story. You really expect me to forget what happened to me?’ Disbelief almost choked her. ‘If I took your blood money it would be tantamount to admitting guilt.’ The thought made her sick to the stomach.
‘And so?’
‘Damn you, Domenico Volpe!’ Lucy shot from her chair and skewered him with a glare that should have shrivelled him to ashes in his precious executive chair. ‘I refuse to soothe your conscience or that of your sister-in-law.’
He rose and leaned across so his face was a breath away from hers.
‘What are you implying?’
‘Don’t play the innocent.’ She braced her hands on the table, firing the words at him. ‘Your family’s influence was what convicted me.’
‘You have the temerity to hint the trial wasn’t fair? Because of us?’
She had to give him credit. He looked so furious he’d have convinced anyone. Except someone who’d been behind bars for years because of his precious family.
‘Come on! What chance did I stand with an overworked public defender against your power and influence?’
‘The evidence pointed overwhelmingly to you.’
‘But it wasn’t true.’ Her breath came in uneven pants as she faced him across the desk.
‘You’d be well advised to sign.’ His look sent a tremor of fear racing through her.
But he couldn’t hurt her. Not now. She was free. She had no one and almost no money, but she had integrity. He couldn’t take that.
‘Now who’s making threats?’ She stared into eyes that glowed like molten steel.
Deliberately she leaned across his desk, her lips almost grazing his cheek, her nostrils filling with the heady spice scent of him. His eyes widened in shock and she wondered if she’d looked like that out in the garden when he’d come close enough to kiss her.
‘I don’t respond to threats,’ she breathed in a whisper that caressed his scrupulously shaved jaw. ‘The answer is still no.’
DAMN THE WOMAN.
Domenico paced his study, furious he hadn’t broken the deadlock. Lucy Knight still rejected his offer.
It stuck in his craw to give her anything but it was the only way to stop her selling her story. Then what privacy would Pia and Taddeo have? The scandal could go on for years, dogging Taddeo as he grew.
Money was the obvious lever to get what he needed. She was desperate for cash. If she’d had funds she’d have spent it on a top-flight defence team.
A splinter of discomfort pierced him, remembering her inexperienced, under-prepared lawyer. Watching his ineffectual efforts had made Domenico actually consider intervening to organise a more capable defender.
To defend the woman who’d killed Sandro!
Perhaps if he hadn’t known she was guilty he would have. But how could he doubt the overwhelming evidence against her?
A mere week before Sandro’s death Lucy Knight had bumped into Domenico, literally, at an exhibition of baroque jewellery. He was supervising the inclusion of some family pieces but had been distracted, outrageously so, by the charms of the delightful young Englishwoman who’d blushed