Her Exquisite Surrender: Surrendering All But Her Heart / Innocent in the Ivory Tower / Full Surrender. Lucy Ellis

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      ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘You must know how it’s going to end.’

      His hooded gaze drifted to her mouth. ‘I don’t care how it ends,’ he said. ‘This is about the here and now.’

      She looked at his mouth. Oh, how she wanted to feel those firm lips move against hers! She remembered the heat; she remembered the blistering passion that burned like a taper all over her flesh. She remembered the sexy thrust of his tongue as it came in search of hers.

      Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the breeze of his breath skate over her lips. He lowered his mouth to just above hers. She swept her tongue over her lips, wanting him, aching for him to make the first move.

      ‘Go on,’ he said, in a low, husky, spine-melting tone. ‘I know you want to.’

      Natalie’s stomach shifted like a speeding skater suddenly facing a sheet of broken ice. Could he read her so well even after all this time? She fought for composure, for self-control, for anything.

      ‘You’re mistaken,’ she said coolly. ‘I don’t want any such thing.’

      He brushed a finger over her tingling bottom lip. ‘Liar.’

      It took all of her resolve and then some to step back, but somehow she did it. She moved to the other side of the room, barricading herself behind one of the sofas set in the middle of the room. ‘I think you should leave,’ she said.

      ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Because you don’t trust yourself around me?’

      She sent him an arctic look. ‘I’m not going to be a slave to your desires.’

      ‘Is that what you think you’ll be?’ he asked. ‘What about your own desires? You have them. You can deny them all you like but they’re still there. I can feel it when I touch you.’

      ‘What we had five years ago is gone,’ Natalie said. ‘You can’t make it come back just to suit you.’

      ‘It never went away,’ he said. ‘You wanted it to, but it didn’t. You were scared of the next step, weren’t you? You were scared of the commitment of marriage. You’re still scared. What I’d like to know is why.’

      ‘Get out.’

      ‘I’m not going until I give you this.’ He took a jeweller’s box from inside his jacket pocket. But rather than come over to her he simply set it down on the coffee table. It reminded her of a gauntlet being laid down between two opponents.

      ‘I’ll have a car sent to collect you on Tuesday,’ he said. ‘Pack enough clothes for a week. We’ll be expected to go on a honeymoon. If you e-mail me a list of the people you wish to invite to the ceremony I’ll have my secretary deal with it.’

      ‘What do you want me to wear?’ she asked. ‘Sackcloth and ashes?’

      ‘You can wear what you like,’ he said. ‘It makes no difference to me. But do keep in mind that there will be photographers everywhere.’

      ‘Do you really expect me to pack up my life here and follow you about the globe like some lovesick little fool?’ she asked.

      ‘We will divide our time between your place and mine,’ he said. ‘I’m based in London, but I plan to spend a bit of time in Sorrento until the development is near completion. I’m prepared to be flexible. I understand you have a business to run.’

      She gave him a petulant look. ‘What if I don’t want you to share my house?’

      ‘Get used to it, Natalie. I will share your house and a whole lot more before the ink is dry on our marriage certificate.’ He went to the door. ‘I’ll see you on Tuesday.’

      Natalie didn’t touch the jeweller’s box until he had left. She stood looking at it for a long time before she picked it up and opened it. Inside was an art deco design triple diamond ring. It was stunningly beautiful. She took it out of its velvet home and slipped it on her finger. She couldn’t have chosen better herself. It was neither too loose nor too tight—a perfect ring for an imperfect relationship.

       She wondered how long it would be before she would be giving it back.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      NATALIE was in a state of high anxiety by the time Tuesday came around.

      She hadn’t eaten for three days. She had barely slept. She had been dry retching at the thought of getting on a plane to Italy.

      Angelo had called her each day, but she hadn’t revealed anything of what she was going through. He had assured her Lachlan was out of harm’s way. Her parents had called too, and expressed their satisfaction with the way things had turned out. Her father was greatly relieved that the family name hadn’t been sullied by Lachlan’s antics. Angelo had miraculously made the nasty little episode disappear, for which Adrian Armitage was immensely grateful. He’d made no mention of Natalie’s role in fixing things. She had expected no less from him, given he had never shown an interest in her welfare, but she was particularly annoyed with her mother, who hadn’t even asked her how she felt about marrying Angelo. But then Isla had married Natalie’s father for money and prestige. Love hadn’t come into it at all.

      She felt annoyed too at having to lie to her friends—in particular Isabel. But strangely enough Isabel had accepted the news of her marriage with barely a blink of an eye. Her friend had said how she had always thought Natalie had unresolved feelings for Angelo since she hadn’t dated all that seriously since. She thought Natalie’s aversion to marriage and commitment had stemmed from her break up with Angelo. Natalie hadn’t had the heart to put Isabel straight. As close as she was to her, she had never told Isabel about the circumstances surrounding Liam’s death.

      Natalie heard a car pull up outside her house. Her stomach did another somersault and a clammy sweat broke out over her brow. She walked to the door on legs that felt like wet cotton wool. It wasn’t a uniformed driver standing there but Angelo himself.

      ‘I … I just have to get my bag …’ she said, brushing a loose strand of sticky hair back behind her ear.

      Angelo narrowed his gaze. ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘I’m fine,’ she said, averting her eyes.

      He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to look at him. ‘You’re deathly pale,’ he said. ‘Are you ill?’

      Natalie swallowed the gnarly knot of panic in her throat. ‘I have some pills to take.’ She rummaged in her bag for the anxiety medication her doctor had prescribed. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

      She went to the kitchen for a glass of water and Angelo followed her. He took the packet of pills from her and read the label. ‘Do you really need to take these?’ he asked.

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