Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender: Seducing His Enemy's Daughter / Surrendering to the Vengeful Italian / Soldier Under Siege. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
only crocodile tears.
‘Donato Salazar isn’t the sort to understand. You don’t realise how badly I need him. I suggested marriage to cement our business ties and he agreed to consider it.’ Her father’s tone made it clear what an honour that was. This from a man who viewed himself as the acme of Sydney business and society.
‘I need Salazar’s money. Without it I’ll go under and soon. Even with his money...’ He looked every bit his age despite the work he’d had to keep the lines and sags of good living at bay. ‘I need a personal tie to keep me safe. A family tie.’ His tone was grim, his expression ugly, a familiar scheming look in his eye.
The idea of her father’s massive wealth at risk should have shocked her. But somehow it didn’t. He was an inveterate risk-taker.
‘You don’t trust him.’ Ella stared in revulsion. ‘Yet you want your daughter to marry him.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a prude. You remind me of your mother.’ His lip curled. ‘Salazar can give a woman everything money can buy. You’ll be set for life.’
Ella said nothing. She knew her mother’s worth, and that money couldn’t buy the important things in life. But the discussion was academic. Fuzz had run rather than meet this Salazar person and Ella had no intention of sacrificing herself to her father’s schemes. Besides, this paragon of corporate success wouldn’t be interested in having Reg Sanderson’s other daughter foisted on him. The dull, uninteresting one who actually worked for a living.
She was ordinary, a nurse who spent her days home-visiting the sick. She had nothing in common with a corporate high-flyer. Ella turned towards the door again.
‘Without Salazar’s money I lose everything. The business, this house. Everything. And if I go belly up, what do you think happens to your siblings?’ He paused long enough for foreboding to trickle down Ella’s spine.
‘What about the money for your brother’s new venture?’ No mistaking the venom in his tone. ‘The one Rob’s so wrapped up in now he’s left the family business. The one supporting your sister, Felicity, and her boyfriend.’ He all but spat the word.
Ella swung around, her pulse fluttering in her throat.
‘Rob’s money, not yours.’
He shrugged, his gaze sliding sideways. ‘I...accessed some of it to tide me over.’ He must have sensed her outrage, cutting her off before she could speak. ‘If I go down, so do they. How do you think they’ll cope when the cash to finish refurbishing their fine resort disappears?’ Triumph lit her father’s pale eyes.
Impotent fury blindsided her. He’d stolen from Rob but still expected her to help him!
Trust him to realise her feelings for her siblings was a weakness he could exploit.
She’d felt profound relief that Fuzz and Rob had finally broken from their father’s slimy influence. He’d poisoned their lives too long. If they lost this chance to build something for themselves... Ella shrank inside. Rob might be okay; he’d shown unexpected steel in walking away from all their father offered. But Fuzz had done so little for herself. Despite her sister’s air of casual unconcern Ella knew she had deep-seated self-doubts. A setback like this—
Ella stiffened her shoulders like a prisoner facing a firing squad even as everything inside screamed in protest.
‘All right,’ she bit out. ‘I’ll meet him.’
But only to explain that her sister, Felicity, was no longer part of the business deal.
It would be straightforward. What sane man expected marriage to cement a business deal?
* * *
‘Here she is at last.’ Her father’s voice vibrated with bonhomie. ‘I’d like you to meet my daughter Ella.’
For a moment longer she stood, watching the dying sun turn Sydney Harbour to a mirror of peach and copper. Then with a swift, sustaining breath she made herself turn.
‘Ella, my dear.’ Her father’s greeting made her blink. It was the first endearment he’d ever given her. She stared blankly. Once she’d have given anything to hear him address her with approval and pleasure.
The realisation made something long-forgotten crumple inside.
He spoke again. Ella heard the name Donato Salazar and pasted on a smile. She turned to the man beside him, looking up, then up again.
Something jabbed hard at her insides, a blow that all but rocked Ella back on her feet after the shock of her father’s words.
The man before her didn’t belong at one of her father’s parties. That was her first thought.
These events teetered on the borderline between trendy and louche. This man was too...definite to be either. Elemental was the word hovering in her head. He was like a force of nature, a leader, not one of the led.
Beautiful was her second thought.
Even the thin scar running up one cheek emphasised rather than detracted from the powerful beauty of that face.
It was beautiful in the way a remote mountain crag was, its icy peak compelling to climbers yet treacherous. In the way a storm at sea was beautiful in its lethal magnificence.
Which led to her third thought: dangerous.
It wasn’t just his utter stillness, his total focus as he scrutinised her like an amoeba under a microscope. Or that his spare, gorgeous face was hewn of slashing strokes and planes, not a curve to be seen. Except for that thin, perfectly defined mouth that drew her gaze.
In her profession she’d seen lips curved in smiles of joy or relief, drawn tight or stretched in pain or grief. She’d never seen one like this, hinting at both sensuality and cruelty, the grooves around it all about control.
Danger. It was in the air around him, the way it thickened, alive with his presence, enveloping her, drawing her.
That beautiful hard mouth moved, articulating words Ella couldn’t catch as her brain blurred. Then it curved in a smile and everything sped up, her pulse, her thoughts, her breathing.
‘I’m sorry, I missed that.’
‘I said it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms Sanderson.’ Once more those lips curved up, but Ella knew with absolute certainty it wasn’t pleasure Donato Salazar felt.
That was confirmed when she met his eyes, dark denim-blue beneath sleek black eyebrows that winged upwards. His look was assessing and...annoyed?
‘It’s good to meet you too, Mr Salazar.’
‘Mister, Ms, there’s no need to be so formal.’ Her father spoke and Ella had never been so grateful for his presence. He seemed almost benign by comparison with the man beside him. ‘Call her Ella, Donato. We don’t stand on ceremony here.’
The tall man nodded and she told herself the perfect fall of his smooth, dark hair did not shine with the blue-black gloss of a raven’s wing. Just as that wasn’t the hint of a cleft in his chin. Or a flare of understanding in those deep-set, remarkable eyes holding hers.
The idea of being read and understood by one of her father’s associates was too extraordinary to consider. She’d never fitted into Reg Sanderson’s world. She’d been the cuckoo in the nest, unfathomable and uninteresting.
‘Ella.’ Donato Salazar’s voice was deep, with a resonance that trawled through her insides, leaving her strangely empty. ‘And you must call me Donato.’
Perhaps it was the gleam in his eyes, the satisfied twitch of those lips, or the fact she’d finally got over his shocking first impact on her, but suddenly Ella was herself again.
‘That’s kind of you... Donato.’ Something in his eyes flickered and Ella felt a throb of satisfaction. He was human