his mother Isabella was not his natural mother.
Dante had been the result of an affair his father Antonio had had with an Irish girl whom his father had been forbidden by his own parents to marry. She had died of breast cancer shortly after giving birth to their child. Heartbroken, Antonio had broken all allegiance to his parents after Katherine died and looked after his baby son himself with the aid of his sister-in-law Romana, until he had met and married Isabella Minetti when Dante was six years old. A year later, Stefano had been born, followed only eighteen months after that by Tatiana. Isabella had never treated Dante any differently from his brother and sister, yet Dante had always felt somehow cheated because he wasn’t her natural-born son. Particularly so when his aunt Romana had often reminded him that it was his fault that Antonio and his parents were not speaking any more. She had also reminded him, on an almost daily basis, that he was lucky to be even tolerated in the family because of what had happened, and behind his father’s back had sneered at him, ‘Irish brat.’
If Antonio had guessed what had gone on when he was out at work trying to get his business off the ground, Dante had no doubt his father would have taken him from Romana so fast her head would have spun. But Antonio had never known what his sister-in-law was truly like, because Dante had never told him.
When the boy Dante had finally found himself with two loving parents, he had still felt himself an outsider—always the one with something to prove. It had been easiest to concentrate all his energies on the business. But now his sister had suffered this terrible tragedy and there was a real opportunity to demonstrate his allegiance and his love, and do everything in his power to help Tatiana. Perhaps it would help him let down a few of those painfully erected barriers he’d built so diligently round his heart…with his sister, at least.
‘This afternoon if Tatiana feels like talking, I will take you in to see her yourself. Perhaps she will open up a little to another woman? My mother rings her every day, but it is not the same as having her here with her, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Bliss agreed, her heart full at the troubled expression crossing Dante’s extraordinarily captivating face. Her own relationship with her mother had never been as close as she would have liked it to be, but she could certainly understand Tatiana’s sense of loss at not having her mother nearby under the circumstances. ‘But I will gladly talk to Tatiana if you think that might help. By the way, don’t forget to leave me your telephone number so that I can contact you when you leave.’
Dante’s green eyes glimmered a little as he treated Bliss to the full, unsettling force of his concentrated gaze.
‘That will not be necessary,’ he said curtly.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I am staying here as well. I thought you realised that?’
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS a possibility that had not even remotely crossed Bliss’s mind. Now her thoughts culminated in a crescendo of panic as heat cascaded through her body like a sudden tropical storm, battering down defences and raising unbidden fears about sleeping under the same roof as this breathtaking, beguiling Italian. She desperately wanted to help Tatiana and her lovely little daughter—of course she did—but that desire was now complicated by the fact that she was starting to harbour what could only be ultimately a futile attraction to Dante himself. It was so unlike her to react like that to a man—any man, no matter how attractive. Now this out-of-the-blue, violent attraction for one who was practically a stranger was enough to make her question her own reason.
Seeing the startled look in her pretty eyes, Dante sensed her mind working overtime. He realised that there were things he hadn’t said. Important things that she should know about him so that she would be reassured that this wasn’t some elaborate game he was playing to take advantage of her in any way. With a gargantuan effort, he dragged his gaze away from the sweetly perfect curve of her hips highlighted by her tight denim jeans as Bliss stood up from the kitchen table with Renata in her arms, holding the little girl close as her head drooped tiredly against her shoulder.
‘It is natural you should be wary, but I need to stay here so that I can keep an eye on Tatiana and the baby. My family would never forgive me if anything should happen to either of them. I couldn’t forgive myself should such a terrible thing occur.’ He too got to his feet, towering above Bliss from the other side of the table so that she had to look up to meet the fiercely protective blaze in those breathtaking eyes of his. ‘I do not know how to handle a small child such as Renny. I am too inexperienced. I am not a family man in the sense that I have a wife and children. That is why I need your help, Bliss. My brother Stefano and I are hoteliers. As well as hotels in Italy, Sardinia and Paris, we have a small select hotel here in London, in Belgravia, where we have a suite in readiness for whenever the family should visit. But I do not want to stay there while my sister is clearly in need of my help. Please tell me you understand my dilemma?’
Bliss let out a breath and her previously tense shoulders dropped a fraction. Dante di Andrea was clearly an extremely wealthy and attractive man with a strong sense of familial duty and love. It was totally absurd to imagine that he would be remotely attracted to an ordinary, unremarkable girl like her and put them both in a compromising position when she was only there out of the goodness of her heart. Anyway, he probably had a string of gorgeous girlfriends back in Italy—each of them no doubt more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. Oh, well, Bliss, you can breathe a sigh of relief. He won’t be lusting after you the minute he sees you in your chain-store dressing gown. The thought made a severe dent in her ego, even though it was absolutely ludicrous to entertain it in the first place.
‘It’s all right, Mr di Andrea.’
He immediately frowned and she quickly realised he wasn’t entirely happy with her formal use of his name. ‘Dante.’ Despite feeling that addressing him informally was a liberty that was far too intimate, Bliss rallied. ‘I’m cool about the situation if you are. As soon as your mother gets here from Italy I’ll go home and that will be that. Right now I’m just glad to be able to help out. The little darling’s asleep. Can I put her down somewhere?’
‘Of course.’ Swiftly moving ahead of her into the living room, Dante cleared some cushions from one of the stylish leather couches and indicated to Bliss that she should lay the sleeping child there. When she had done so, he fetched a soft crushed pink cashmere throw from an armchair and draped it tenderly over the little girl. Watching the look on his face as he did so, Bliss felt her heart swell with warmth. He wasn’t experienced with children, he’d said—yet he gazed at Renata as though the miracle of her existence touched him to the very depths of his soul.
‘I think I’ll take the opportunity to go home now and fetch my things. Can I phone for a cab from here?’
‘That will not be necessary. I have a driver at the hotel who will come and pick you up and take you home. I will ring him now and he will be downstairs in just a few minutes. Please do not be long. If you are too long I may fear that you are not coming back at all.’
The way he said this made Bliss feel as though she had just agreed to a secret tryst with him in the moonlight. His tone held a surprisingly possessive note that made all the fine hairs on the back of her neck sit up straight. How was she supposed to maintain a very necessary emotional distance from this man when such a riot of forceful feeling was flooding through her? She had to get a grip, that was what she had to do, and remind herself that she was here to do a job and that was all. There was no place in her life for futile crushes or romantic attachments of any kind.
Bliss might not be sure exactly what she wanted out of life, but she was certain of one thing—it wasn’t a relationship. Experiencing the tragedy of her parents’ marriage at first hand, seeing
