The Forgotten Daughter. Jennie Lucas

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ stopped halfway to the door. “Sí?”

      “I forgot to mention one condition of my work. One I insist upon with every assignment.”

      He waited, folding his arms with a guarded expression.

      She gave him that small, tight smile he was starting to recognize came before an attack. “You will agree not to interfere with my work. I must be allowed to speak to anyone at Santo Castillo, and photograph anything I like.”

      Stefano didn’t like the sound of that. He’d had one or two reporters write about him over the past decade, and though he’d always managed to gloss over questions he didn’t wish to answer, he despised the thought of having his privacy invaded. He’d bargained only on having a few photos of his land taken in exchange for the magazine’s generous payment that local villages so sorely needed. Bad enough that he already had to dread the charity event invasion on Saturday. He would remain in control of all photographs of his home. Always.

      He gave Annabelle a gracious smile, holding out his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

      “We will compromise,” he said, meaning he would win. “I’ll just need the last word on all photographs, and final approval before you send anything to the magazine.”

      Annabelle’s brow furrowed in disbelief as she snapped her camera bag shut. “Give you control over my work? Absolutely not.”

      Watching her from beneath hooded eyes, he shrugged with a practiced carelessness. “Then perhaps we should tell the magazine to cancel the cover story. Perhaps you should leave now.”

      “Agreed.” To his shock, she picked up her suitcase and lifted her camera bag back onto her shoulder. “I’ll drive back to London and explain to Equestrian that you’ll be returning their fee. Grab my duffel, will you?”

      Carrying her suitcase and camera bag, she headed for the door in those sturdy beige shoes.

      Stefano cursed softly under his breath. A woman who not only electrified his body, who not only shied away from his pursuit, she called him on a bluff?

       Who was this woman?

      “Wait,” he said harshly. She stopped, then turned around in the shadowy doorway. She waited, arms folded. He could not remember the last time he’d had to entice a woman, to lure her, to play the game, using all the skills of his body and mind to tame her. He could not remember the last time a woman had defied him—beaten him—and it made him want her all the more. He stalked toward her.

      “Vale. You keep the final word,” he said, then added in a low voice, “But I ask you to consider the feelings of the younger members of my staff and villagers. Do not publish anything that will leave them feeling exposed or embarrassed.”

      Annabelle’s eyes widened. For a moment she seemed to go pale as if in memory.

      Then, throwing her head back, she glared at him. “Do I look like a celebrity gossip reporter to you?”

      His eyes traced slowly over her. The truth was that she looked just like what he needed. A long, tall drink of water to a thirsty man. A mirage. Beautiful. Untouchable. And, oh, he could hardly wait to touch her. “No, you do not.”

      Visibly mollified, she gave a single nod. “I will give you my word not to deliberately hurt any innocent person. Is that enough? For you?”

      Stefano narrowed his eyes, looking at the determined sincerity of her face. “Sí.” He held out his hand to seal the bargain. She hesitated, staring down at his hand outstretched hand. Biting her lip, she slowly placed her hand against his.

       And it was like being struck by lightning.

      Stefano felt her hand in his own, skin against skin. Shock sizzled through him as her slender fingers trembled in his rough grasp. He tightened his grip, pressing their palms together, pulling her close in a visceral reaction.

      He felt staggered by sudden violent hunger. His mind filled with vivid images, of ripping off her clothes, running his hands down her bare skin. Of pulling her down on the bed, taking her, filling her as her fingernails dug into his back, as he made her scream with savage pleasure.

      With a ragged intake of breath, Annabelle ripped away her hand. Her cheeks were red as she turned away.

      But the damage had already been done.

      Dios mío. Stefano’s breath was shallow. She was the ultimate mystery. She was cold and hot, gentle and cruel.

      He stared down at her, his body vibrating with need.

      Soon, he vowed grimly, she would be pliant in his arms, spread naked across his bed. He would make her weep with pleasure. He would give her everything. He would take everything.

      Nothing on earth would stop him from seducing her now.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ANNABELLE HADN’T WANTED to shake his hand. No way. But he’d stood there with his outstretched and left her no choice.

      Touching Stefano’s hand had been like touching fire.

      Annabelle had nearly gasped when she’d felt his naked palm, hot and rough against her own, when she felt his calloused fingertips brush the tender spot of her wrist. Electricity sizzled up her arm and ripped through her body. Her earlobes tingled, her breasts became heavy. Tension crackled through her like a lightning storm.

       Just from touching his hand.

      With a harsh intake of breath, Annabelle ripped her hand away, her cheeks burning hot. Even with her limited experience, she’d never felt anything like this.

      “You win,” she said hoarsely, fighting to keep her voice even. “Go get my equipment. I’ll unpack.”

      She heard something from him that sounded like a purr of satisfaction, but she was afraid to look at his face, afraid of what he might read in her eyes. Confusion. Fear. Desire.

      “Give me the keys to your truck,” he said.

      “It’s unlocked,” she muttered, still not looking at him.

      “I will park it when I’m done unloading.” She heard sudden amusement in his voice. “That is, unless you fear you cannot trust me not to break your car while driving it into the garage.”

      Reaching into her camera bag, she tossed him her keys with the merest sideways glance. But in spite of her efforts not to meet his gaze, she could not resist one tiny peek. Their eyes locked and she held her breath, caught, unable to look away.

      He was so beautiful.

      Beams of sunlight from the windows illuminated his black hair as his dark eyes ripped through her. Stefano Cortez was so brutal, so masculine.

      Her pulse hammered in her throat. Men had hit on her before, but they’d left her completely untouched and unmoved.

      Stefano made her tremble from within.

      He doesn’t want me, she told herself desperately, СКАЧАТЬ