The Consequence She Cannot Deny. Bella Frances

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      ‘You don’t really want me to get the thumbscrews out, do you?’

      ‘I don’t think I’d suit them, thanks all the same,’ she said, shifting slightly in her seat before she dared look up at him. ‘I can think of many more attractive accessories.’

      ‘Are you flirting with me, Miss Dahl?’

      He was sitting down now, utterly relaxed, one arm on the back of his chair, head cocked, watching her. His eyes drew her gaze like twin blue magnets. His mouth was ever so slightly curved in a smile.

      ‘What?’ she said, flushing. ‘I’m sorry if I came across like that. I can assure you that I don’t even know how to flirt.’

      She reached for her glass, which had just been filled by a server. Her fingers closed around the crystal, damp with condensation, and she stared at the pale golden liquid that sloshed inside, glad to have something to focus on other than the impenetrable, delectable Raffaele.

      ‘I find that hard to believe.’

      She flicked her eyes to his in a determined stare and breathed deeply. ‘You can believe what you like. It’s not my way, and I wouldn’t have thought you’d be open to such an obvious approach.’

      ‘I wouldn’t have thought so either,’ he said, lifting his glass and toasting her. ‘But today seems to be full of surprises. I didn’t intend that you would make it off the Tarmac, and here we are having lunch.’

      ‘May I ask what changed your mind?’

      He placed his glass down and looked at her. A long, slow stare that reached deeper than his eyes.

      ‘Let’s just say I liked what I saw.’

      Coral swallowed. ‘You felt I had potential?’

      ‘I did. Do you?’

      ‘Have potential? I’m biased but, yes. I think I can deliver whatever you have in mind.’

      He flashed her another amazing smile. But just as quickly his face became impassive once more.

      ‘Let’s get back on track. We’ll finish lunch, then go and find Kyla. She has her own ideas. I’ll sanction the ones that are appropriate and you can take it from there.’

      She dipped some bread in oil. ‘Do you sanction everything around here?’ she asked, as nonchalantly as she could under the circumstances.

      ‘You really have to ask?’

      She let the oil-drenched bread slide down her tongue and swallowed as calmly as her beating heart would allow. She knew he was watching her very carefully. There was more than the midday sunshine warming the atmosphere.

      ‘Are you flirting with me, Signor Rossini?’

      He put his head back and laughed.

      ‘If it’s that obvious I must be losing my touch.’

      In all her experience with men she had never felt anything that came close to that moment. She’d known him less than two hours, but she knew she’d hit pay-dirt when she made Raffaele Rossini laugh unguardedly.

      ‘Let’s just say I’m no push-over. It’ll take more than a free lunch in paradise and a commission from one of the world’s bestselling glossies to make me fall at anyone’s feet.’

      Raffaele’s look across the table was straight and true. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say that sounds like a challenge.’

      ‘Not at all,’ she said, leaning forward on the table. ‘I’m here to follow my dream. And I won’t let anything get in the way. You can count on that.’

      His thousand-watt gaze still beamed down on her and she was beginning to wilt under it. But she wasn’t going to show weakness. She brushed her fingertips together to get rid of some imaginary crumbs, smoothed her dress and sat back in her chair.

      Then she slanted him a look that said—Is that all you’ve got?

      He raised an eyebrow, put down his glass and stood. She raised her arm to shield her eyes.

      ‘It sounds like we’re on the same page,’ he said, nodding. ‘As long as you’re every bit as good as you say you are.’

      ‘Only one way to find out,’ she said, rising. She nodded at the old villa. ‘Shall we?’

       CHAPTER TWO

      IT WAS JUST POSSIBLE—just possible—that this ridiculous situation might not end in total disaster after all. He’d thought seriously about demoting Mariella after her catastrophic error of judgement. It was only because of what they’d achieved together over the years that he’d relented.

      He knew the magazine’s editor was still in love with him, and he’d been fond of her once, but linking this feature with their graduate competition proved she just didn’t get it. It was not a ‘cute idea’ when it involved Kyla and her out-of-control ego. Not now that she was almost family. And not when family was the only thing that really mattered.

      If only Salvatore hadn’t gone into such a tailspin after Giancarlo’s death. He hadn’t coped well when his father was alive and he’d been in even worse shape these last few months. Now he was right in the middle of this new drama and it had to be managed.

      Where Salvatore was concerned, damage limitation was a full-time occupation, but at least Giancarlo wasn’t around to see it. He was barely cold in his grave, and he would not have approved of this fast-track wedding at all.

      Kyla wasn’t right for the family. She stood for everything Giancarlo hated—with her second-by-second social media presence, telling the whole world what she’d had for breakfast, turning pouting and preening into a full-blown career.

      It was a useful lesson, though, and it had made him even more determined to keep his own women at a distance. Life was messy enough without consciously opting for an emotional double suicide. Especially with someone who was so clearly digging for gold.

      Anyhow, he had Romano Publishing to take care of. And the Di Visconti empire to babysit until Salvatore learned which way was up. So what time did he have for women, gold-diggers or not?

      ‘Oh, this is too lovely! Would you mind?’

      He turned to see the young woman who had charmed him into this volte-face. He rarely went back on a decision, but there was no time to get anyone else. Plus, she was principled. And smart. He had a good feeling about her. In more ways than one...

      It could all work out, he mused. He’d had no intention of having any downtime this weekend, but he’d just hit a home run of increased turnover in the digital wing of Romano, and—even better—started some pretty interesting talks with MacIver Press. If he added them to his portfolio he would be one happy CEO.

      ‘I can’t let it pass—I have to...’

      She had stopped suddenly on the narrow path that linked the old villa with his

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