Surrendering To The Vengeful Italian. Angela Bissell

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      * * *

      Helena reached for the glass Leo had placed on the table in front of her and sipped, focusing on the cold tickle of the carbonated water on her tongue and throat and nothing else. She would not faint. Not in front of this man. Shock on top of an empty stomach had left her woozy, that was all. She simply needed a moment to compose herself.

      After a third careful sip she put the glass down and folded her hands in her lap. She mustn’t reveal her turmoil. Mustn’t show any hint of anxiety as her mind darted from one nauseating scenario to the next. Had her father hit the bottle in the wake of this news? Was her mother playing the devoted wife, trying to console him? And how long before the lethal combination of rage and drink turned him from man to monster? To a vile bully who could lavish his wife with expensive trinkets and luxuries one minute and victimise her the next?

      Helena’s insides trembled, but it wasn’t only worry for her mother making her belly quiver. Making her pulse-rate kick up a notch. It was an acute awareness of the man sitting opposite. An unsettling realisation that, no matter how many days, weeks or years came between them, she would never be immune to this tall, breathtaking Italian. She would never look at him and not feel her blood surge. Her lungs seize. Her belly tighten.

      No. Time had not rendered her immune to his particular potent brand of masculinity. But she would not let her body betray her awareness of him. If her father’s endless criticisms and lack of compassion had taught her anything as a child it was never to appear weak.

      She laced her fingers to keep them from fidgeting. ‘What are your plans for my father’s company?’

      A muscle in his jaw bunched and released. Bunched again. He lounged back, stretched out his long legs, draped one arm across the top of the sofa. ‘I haven’t yet decided.’

      She fought the urge to scowl. ‘But you must have some idea.’

      ‘Of course. Many, in fact. All of which I’ll discuss with your father, once he overcomes his aversion to meeting with me.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps he’s hoping his daughter will offer his new shareholder some...incentive to play nice?’

      Heat rushed her cheeks, much to her annoyance. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

      ‘Oh, come now. There’s no need to play the innocent for me.’

      Leo’s hand moved absently over the back of the sofa, his fingers stroking the soft black leather in slow, rhythmic patterns. Helena stared, transfixed, then hastily averted her eyes. Those long, tanned fingers had once stroked her flesh in a strikingly similar fashion, unleashing in her a passion no man had unleashed before or since.

      She pulled in a breath, tried to focus on his voice.

      ‘You needn’t look so worried, Helena. You won’t have to dirty your hands with the likes of me again.’ His fingers stilled. ‘I have no interest in anything you could offer.’

      As though emphasising his point, his gaze travelled her length, from the summit of her blushing hairline to the tips of her inexpensive shoes. ‘As for the company,’ he went on, before she could muster an indignant response, ‘if your father continues to decline my invitations to meet, my board will vote to sell off the company’s subsidiaries and amalgamate the core business with my own. A merger will mean layoffs, of course, but your father’s people will find I’m not an unreasonable man. Those without jobs can expect a fair severance settlement.’

      Her jaw slackened. ‘Dismantle the company?’ The one thing guaranteed to bring her father to his knees. ‘You would tear down everything my father has worked his entire life to build?’

      He shrugged. ‘As a minority shareholder he’ll benefit financially from any asset sales. He’ll lose his position at the head of the company, of course, but then your father’s no longer a man in his prime. Perhaps he’ll welcome the opportunity to retire?’

      She shook her head. For Douglas Shaw it wasn’t about the money. Or retirement. It was about pride and respect and status. About winning. Control.

      ‘You don’t understand.’ Her voice trembled. ‘This won’t hurt only my father. It will hurt others, too—my family. Is that what you want, Leo? To see innocent people suffer?’

      His eyes narrowed, his gaze hardening under his dark slanted brows. ‘Do not talk to me about suffering. You and your family don’t know the first meaning of the word.’

      Not true! she wanted to shout, but she held her tongue. Another habit deeply ingrained from childhood, when she’d been taught to avoid such indiscretions—to lie, if necessary, about her less than perfect home life.

      She stifled a frustrated sigh.

      Why did people think growing up with money meant a life filled with sunshine and roses? That might have been the case for some of her friends, but for Helena it had been nothing more than a grand, sugar-coated illusion. An illusion her mother, the ever-dutiful society wife, still chose to hide behind.

      Leo lunged his powerful shoulders forward, planted both feet firmly on the floor. ‘This is business. Your father knows that. Better than most.’

      He rose to his full impressive height: six feet four inches of lean, muscled Italian.

      ‘I could have made things much worse for him. You might remind him of that fact.’

      For a moment Helena considered telling him the truth—that she’d not seen or spoken with her father in years. That she worked as a secretary and lived in a rundown flat in North London and visited her family only when her father was absent on business. That Douglas Shaw was a domineering bully and she didn’t care a jot for the man, but she did care for those who would suffer most from his downfall. That she held no sway with her father and could offer Leo nothing in return for leniency except her eternal gratitude.

      But caution stopped her. The man who stood before her now was not the Leo she’d once known. He was a tough, shrewd businessman, bent on revenge, and he would use every weapon in his arsenal to achieve it. Knowledge was power, and he had plenty of that without her gifting him extra ammunition.

      Besides, he’d already accused her of lying—why should he believe the truth?

      She unlaced her hands and stood.

      ‘There must be other options,’ she blurted. ‘Other possibilities that would satisfy your board and keep the company intact?’

      ‘My board will make their decisions based on the best interests of my business. Not your father’s interests and not his family’s.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Now, if you have nothing else to discuss, there are more important matters requiring my attention.’

      She stared at him.

      More important matters?

      A bitter laugh rose and died in her throat.

      Really, what had she expected? Understanding? Forgiveness? A friendly chat over a cup of tea?

      Humiliation raged through her. She was a fool, wasting her time on a fool’s errand. She snatched up her handbag. ‘Next time you look in the mirror, Leo, remind yourself why you despise my father so much.’ She returned his stony stare. ‘Then take a hard look at your reflection. СКАЧАТЬ