one ankle crossed over the other, and his eyes—those amazingly penetrating eyes—every time Gabby happened to glance his way, trained on her.
Once the minister had taken them through their paces, Gabby’s mother had invited everyone present back to the St Clair house for a light supper. Gabby had secretly hoped Vinn would decline the invitation, but as she had come out of one of the upstairs bathrooms half an hour or so later, Vinn had stepped forward to block her path.
‘I’d like a word with you, Gabriella,’ he said. ‘In private.’
‘I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me,’ she said coldly, as she tried to sidestep him, but he took one of her wrists in the steel bracelet of his fingers, the physical contact sending sparks of fizzing electricity up and down her arm. ‘Let me go, Vinn,’ she said, trying to pull away.
His hold tightened to the point of pain. ‘Don’t go through with it, Gabriella,’ he said in a strained sort of tone she had never heard him use before. ‘He’s not the right man for you.’
Pride made her put her chin up. ‘Let me go,’ she repeated, and, using her free hand, scraped the back of his hand with her nails.
He captured her other hand and pulled her up close—closer than she had ever been to him before. It was a shock to find how hard the wall of his chest was, and the latent power of his thighs pressed against her trembling body made her spine feel loose and watery all of a sudden.
His eyes were burning as they warred with hers. ‘Call it off,’ he said. ‘Your parents will understand. It’s not too late.’
She threw him an icy glare. ‘If you don’t let me go this instant I’ll tell everyone you tried to assault me. You’ll go to jail. Tristan’s father will act for me in court. You won’t have a leg to stand on.’
His mouth tightened, and she saw a pulse beating like a drum in his neck. ‘Glendenning is only marrying you for your money,’ he ground out.
Gabby was incensed, even though a tiny pinhole of doubt had already worn through the thick veil of denial she had stitched in place over the last few weeks of her engagement. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she spat at him. ‘Tristan loves me. I know he does.’
Vinn’s hands were like handcuffs on her wrists. ‘If it’s marriage you want, then marry me. At least you’ll know what you’re getting.’
Gabby laughed in his face. ‘Marry you?’ She injected as much insult as she could into her tone. ‘And spend the rest of my life like your mother did, scrubbing other people’s houses? Thanks, but no thanks.’
‘I won’t let you go through with it, Gabriella,’ he warned. ‘If you don’t call the wedding off tonight I will stand up during the ceremony tomorrow and tell the congregation why the marriage should not go ahead.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
His eyes challenged hers. ‘You just watch me, Blondie,’ he said. ‘Do you want the whole of Sydney to know what sort of man you are marrying?’
She threw him a look of pure venom. ‘I am going to make damned sure you’re not even at my wedding,’ she spat back at him. ‘I’m going to speak to the security firm Dad has organised and have you banned from entry. I’m marrying Tristan tomorrow no matter what you say. I love him.’
‘You don’t know who or what you want right now,’ he said, with a fast-beating pulse showing at the corner of his mouth. ‘Damn it, Gabriella, you’re only just twenty-one. Your brother’s suicide has thrown you. It’s thrown all of us. Your engagement was a knee-jerk reaction. For God’s sake, a blind man could see it.’
The mention of her brother and his tragic death unleashed a spurt of anger Gabby had not been able to express out of respect for her shattered parents. It rose inside her like an explosion of lava, and with the sort of strength she had no idea she possessed, she tore herself out of his hold and delivered a stinging slap to his stubbly jaw. It must have hurt him, for her hand began to throb unbearably, all the delicate bones feeling as if they had been crushed by a house brick.
Time stood still for several heart-stopping seconds.
Something dangerous flickered in his grey-blue eyes, and then with a speed that knocked the breath right out of her lungs he pulled her into his crushing embrace, his hot, angry mouth coming down on hers…
Gabby had to shake herself back to the present. She hated thinking about that kiss. She hated remembering how she had so shamelessly responded to it. And she hated recalling the bracelet of fingertip bruises she had worn on her wedding day—as if Vinn Venadicci, in spite of her covert word to Security to keep him out of the church, had vicariously come along to mock her marriage to Tristan Glendenning anyway.
‘Just tell me what you want and get it over with,’ she said now, with a flash of irritation, as she continued to face him combatively across the expanse of his desk.
‘I want you to be my wife.’
Gabby wasn’t sure what shocked her the most: the blunt statement of his intentions or the terrifying realisation she had no choice but to agree.
‘That seems rather an unusual request, given the fact we hate each other and have always done so,’ she managed to say, without—she hoped—betraying the flutter of her heart.
‘You don’t hate me, Gabriella,’ he said with a sardonic smile. ‘You just hate how I make you feel. It’s always been there between us, has it not? The forbidden fruit of attraction: the rich heiress and the bad boy servant’s son. A potent mix, don’t you think?’
Gabby sent him a withering look. ‘You are delusional, Vinn,’ she said. ‘I have never given you any encouragement to think anything but how much I detest you.’
He got to his feet and, glancing at his designer watch, informed her dispassionately, ‘Time’s up, Blondie.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘I need more time to consider your offer,’ she bit out.
‘The offer is closing in less than thirty seconds,’ he said with an indomitable look. ‘Take or leave it.’
Frustration pushed Gabby to her feet. ‘This is my father’s life’s work we’re talking about here,’ she said, her voice rising to an almost shrill level. ‘He built up the St Clair Resort from scratch after that cyclone in the seventies. How can you turn your back on him after all he’s done for you? Damn it, Vinn. You would be pacing the exercise yard at Pentridge Jail if it wasn’t for what our family has done for you.’
His eyes were diamond-hard, the set to his mouth like carved granite. ‘That is my price, Gabriella,’ he said. ‘Marriage or nothing.’
She clenched her hands into fists, her whole body shaking with impotent rage. ‘You know I can’t say no. You know it and you want to rub it in. You’re only doing this because I rejected your stupid spur of the moment proposal seven years ago.’
He leaned towards the intercom on his desk and pressing the button, said calmly, ‘Rachel? Is my next client here? Mrs Glendenning is just leaving.’
Gabby could see her father’s hard-earned business slipping out of his control. He would have to sell the house—the house his parents and
