readjusted her panties, smoothed down her skirt where she knelt on his lap. He had put his mark on her: she was his now and he had no objection to admitting that she was the most exciting woman he had had in his arms in a very long time. He could not believe that she could be engaged in some sleazy relationship with Vittore at the same time as she was responding to him and, Dio mio, that was some response, he savoured sensually.
Shock and embarrassment roared through her in a head-spinning whirl and she scrambled off him in sudden horror, her face red as fire, her eyes momentarily closing in an agony of mortification. What had she done? What had she done? As she moved she saw another car parked a few yards away. ‘Oh, good grief, there’s another car nearby...we’ve been seen!’ she gasped, stricken.
Dante didn’t bat a single magnificent eyelash. ‘My bodyguards, you don’t need to worry about them.’
‘Bodyguards?’ she yelped in even greater dismay, because she knew all about bodyguards, teams of men who operated in all her sisters’ lives as protection and supervision.
‘I go nowhere without them. The bank insists,’ Dante said, unconcerned.
Biting her lip, Topsy did up her seat belt. You slut, she told herself, her body still humming with treacherous pleasure and frank astonishment at what he had made her feel. Even so, his erotic approach had made her feel ridiculously virginal and ignorant, so far out of her depth and foolish she could not even bring herself to look at him again. She would certainly never ever look in the direction of his wretched bodyguards, knowing very well that bodyguards were just as human as everybody else and equally prone to gossip. Had that not been why Mikhail moved her bodyguard Vlad to other duties when he considered that they had become too ‘friendly’. Prior to that, she had heard some very amusing tales from Vlad about his experiences, his Russian reserve crumpling around her. Mikhail had teased her about being a femme fatale for mortifying months afterwards yet nothing had ever happened between her and Vlad. If only she could say the same thing of Dante Leonetti!
DANTE WATCHED TOPSY bounce out of the castle and down the steps to greet Gaetano in his Porsche. She looked incredibly young and pretty in a fuchsia-pink dress and ridiculously high heels. He snatched in a breath, teeth clenching as she flashed her shapely legs climbing in. It was ridiculous: she should have cancelled the date. The very idea of Gaetano getting close enough to touch her made Dante incredibly tense. Yet he was not a possessive man and had often enjoyed non-exclusive relationships that enabled him to retain his freedom. Possibly it was because he hadn’t bedded her yet, he ruminated with brooding intensity.
‘Is that Gaetano picking up Topsy?’ his mother enquired from where she was still seated with Vittore at the dining table behind her son. ‘I hope he behaves himself—not like that Siccardi boy.’
‘Siccardi? Bruno Siccardi?’ Dante referred to one of their neighbours, a young and handsome playboy known for his wildness. ‘She went out with him as well? Maledizione, she does get around!’
‘And why shouldn’t she?’ Sofia enquired. ‘She’s cooped up all day every day with us and we’re middle-aged and not a lot of fun.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Vittore teased. ‘I think I’m just as much fun as the Siccardi boy!’
‘What happened to him?’ Dante prompted.
‘Oh, she had to fight him off, said he had more hands than an octopus and that was the end of him,’ his mother supplied cheerfully. ‘Topsy’s no pushover.’
But she hadn’t fought him off, Dante reflected with positive relish, using that recollection to suppress his exasperation with her at her determination to keep that date. It was a novelty to be with a woman who wasn’t falling over herself to meet his every demand and expectation but that didn’t mean he liked it and he was confident that her attitude would soon change.
* * *
Topsy was embarrassingly conscious of Gaetano’s family’s very hopeful and constant scrutiny of their table. So far, she had met his mamma, his papa, one sister and two younger brothers, for the restaurant in the village was a family affair and every one of his relatives was delighted to see Gaetano dining out in female company. Gaetano had already taken her step by painful step through the story of how his childhood sweetheart and former fiancée, Daria, had gone off to study for a further degree and had fallen madly in love with another man and dumped him, leaving him with a half-built marital dream home.
‘Your liveliness reminded me of her...a little,’ Gaetano had told her, clearly thinking that was a compliment until she advised him that the best thing possible for him would be to seek a woman who reminded him not at all of his lost love. By that stage both of them knew that they would never be anything to each other than friends and Topsy didn’t have to feel the slightest bit guilty at not having experienced any romantic spark in his direction.
‘Dante seemed...er...attentive,’ Gaetano selected, eyes dancing with amusement. ‘When he brought you to the house.’
Topsy blushed furiously. ‘I don’t think we’d have much in common.’
Gaetano nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’re thinking of his wealth and his fancy title but it would be a mistake to assume that Dante always had it easy.’
Topsy didn’t correct his assumption. ‘Hasn’t he?’ she pressed, full of a curiosity she could not suppress.
Gaetano grimaced. ‘When he was sixteen, my father found him lying by the side of the road one night. He’d been badly beaten up, broken nose, broken ribs, in fact every finger of one hand was broken. He wouldn’t tell my father or the police who had done it.’ Gaetano hesitated. ‘My parents always believed it was his father, Aldo. The old count had a filthy temper.’
Topsy had paled in shock, mentally picturing one of Dante’s long-fingered elegant hands, and she swallowed hard on her nausea. ‘If that’s true, he must have had a tough time as a child.’
* * *
That conversation was still lingering on her mind when she was climbing the stairs at the castle at the end of their evening. Just goes to show, never judge by appearances, she conceded ruefully just as she rounded the corner of the landing and entered the corridor to find herself face-to-face with the very man occupying her brain to the exclusion of all else.
‘Dante!’ she exclaimed, startled by his unexpected appearance.
Dante scanned her face with intent gleaming eyes of green. ‘Your lipstick isn’t even smudged,’ he commented with unconcealed satisfaction.
‘And what the heck is that supposed to mean?’ Topsy flung back at him, dark hair dancing round her slight shoulders as she tossed her head in annoyance.
‘You didn’t let him touch you.’
Topsy sucked in a deep, angry breath that filled her lungs to capacity. ‘And that is your business because...?’
‘Tonight you’re mine,’ Dante informed her with a level of unmistakable assurance that drove her breath right back out of her lungs again, deflating her when she could least afford the weakness.
A split second later, Dante did nothing to help her condition because he did something even more shocking: bending down, scooping her off her feet
