The Sicilian Surrender. Sandra Marton

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СКАЧАТЬ “And it’s perfect for the cover of the premiere issue of Bridal Dreams.”

      “No.”

      “Now, Stefano,” she’d said, slipping into his lap, “you know I was hired to make Bridal Dreams the best magazine in the world. The first issue can make me or break me.”

      No, he’d said again, and she’d changed tack, twisted around so she was straddling him, put her hot mouth to his.

      He should have thrown her out right then. Their relationship had grown stale; it was over and he knew it. He’d lost interest in Carla—she was self-centered and superficial, and she wanted things he had no intention of giving her—a place in his life, a future with him.

      He’d been with a dozen women who’d wanted the same things and he was no more interested in permanent commitment to Carla than he’d been with the others. Carla had known that, going in; she said her life was her career, but somewhere along the way, she’d decided to change her game plan.

      So he’d lifted her from his lap, told her “No” again, and as she began to weep, his phone rang. It was his pilot, saying his Learjet had been serviced and was ready whenever he was.

      “Where are you going?” Carla cried as he started for the door. “You have to do this for me, Stefano. You have to!”

      When he didn’t answer, she’d gone from crying to cursing and screaming…

      And now she was here. On his land. His island. Scrambling up the hill toward him like something out of a bad dream.

      He felt his insides knot into a ball of fury at her temerity in violating this place. He told himself he was being ridiculous, that this wasn’t a shrine. The only thing he had the right to be angry about was that she’d followed him on this trip without being invited, but that didn’t keep him from jamming his hands even harder into his pockets and balling them into fists.

      “Darling,” she squealed as she reached him. “Aren’t you surprised to see me?”

      “How did you find me?” he said curtly.

      “That’s not much of a hello.”

      “You’re right. It’s a question. Please answer it.”

      She smiled as she rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his unmoving mouth.

      “It wasn’t that difficult. I’m sure you think I have a bubble for a brain, but even a child could have—”

      “I’m sorry you made such a long journey for nothing, Carla.”

      “Is that all you have to say to me after I’ve come so far to be with you?”

      His mouth twisted. She had come for her own reasons. Being with him had nothing to do with it. He knew that, and she knew he knew it.

      “—such a magnificent place, darling, and to think you didn’t intend to share it with—”

      “Was that helicopter yours?”

      “Yes. Yes, it was. It landed in a field just a little way from here and then a taxi—”

      “Go back to it and tell the pilot to take you back to the airport.”

      Carla blinked. “What?”

      “I said—”

      “I heard you. I just can’t believe you’d send me away.”

      Tears glinted in her eyes. She was good at this, he thought grimly. Very good.

      “Carla.” He spoke quietly, feeling the anger inside him approaching critical mass and determined not to let her know it. He valued self-control as much as privacy. Explosive emotion was the one thing Sicilian he didn’t admire. It had led his grandfather to ruin. “You’re not staying here.”

      “You mean…” Her mouth trembled. “You mean, I’m not welcome.”

      He almost laughed. Did she really think a show of injured feelings would work?

      “I mean,” he said carefully, “I didn’t invite you.”

      “You didn’t have to. We’ve been together a long time.”

      “Four months.” His voice turned cold. He knew it, but all at once, he didn’t care.

      “Four months,” she repeated, making it sound like a lifetime, “and now, just because I asked you a simple favor—”

      “I gave you a simple answer. No one is putting my home on the cover of a magazine.”

      “Then, it is your home?” she said with a sly little smile. “You’re not developing this property into a resort?”

      Stefano cursed himself for being a fool. “Goodbye, Carla,” he said, and started past her.

      She reached out and caught his sleeve.

      “I don’t want it for a cover, Stefano. I want it for the entire issue.”

      He laughed.

      “It’ll be the most incredible magazine anyone’s ever seen!” He tugged his arm free of her hand and began walking down the slope. Carla hurried alongside him, slipping a little in her stiletto heels. “Just listen, okay?”

      He didn’t answer.

      “The way I’ve planned things will protect your precious privacy as much as it heightens the intimacy of the shoot.”

      They reached the bottom of the hill. Stefano looked around for her taxi. The road and the driveway were empty.

      “Here’s my plan, Stefano.” Carla moved in front of him, face glowing under the soft lights that had just come on in the rear of the house. “One of everything. One world-class photographer, one incredible makeup artist, one unbelievably gorgeous model—”

      She cried out as he cupped her elbows and hauled her to her toes.

      “No! Are you deaf? There will be no shoot. No model, no photographer, no anything.”

      “You’re hurting me.”

      He probably was. Carefully, he took his hands from her and stepped back.

      “Where’s your cab?”

      “I sent it back.” She smiled. “I sent the helicopter back, too.”

      “Wait here. I’ll have someone drive you to the airport,” he said, and walked away from her for what would surely be the last time.

      “Stefano.”

      Her voice was soft; it held something that made the hair rise on the back of his neck, but he kept going.

      “Which magazine would you rather see these photos in, Bridal Dreams…or Whispers?”

      He СКАЧАТЬ