happened. Your Mr Donnelly is perfectly well, though he is no longer your Mr Donnelly.’
Her brow puckered in a frown and Dario wondered if he’d let his satisfaction show. What did it matter if he had? There was nothing she could do about it. He held all the cards. No matter how much she protested, she’d find the only way forward was his way. After all the trouble she’d caused the knowledge pleased him.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He has decided he no longer wishes to marry you.’
‘But why? And why not tell me himself? Why send a stranger?’
‘He didn’t send me. I chose to come.’
Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. Then she sagged back against the desk, shaking her head.
‘Look, can’t you just tell me? What’s going on?’
‘Mr Donnelly had a better offer. An offer he found it impossible to refuse. As a result he changed his mind about marriage.’ Dario had made absolutely sure of that.
‘An offer of what? Not marriage!’
Dario paced further into the room to stand before her, his feet planted wide, his hands finding his pockets as he enjoyed this moment of triumph.
‘An offer of money, of course. That’s the language the two of you understand best.’ He watched her pupils dilate, darkening her eyes. Her jaw sagged to reveal even white teeth and a glimpse of moist pink tongue.
Dario frowned. It was impossible that any woman should look sexy while gawping in disbelief, but somehow Alissa Mangano…no, Alissa Scott, managed it. That mouth was ripe, luscious, inviting. He felt a tingle of awareness, a tightening of muscles as his gaze zeroed in on the dainty curl of her tongue circling her lips.
He set his jaw. Lust for this woman was not on his agenda. His standards were higher than that.
‘Money to do what?’ She stood straight now, her momentary weakness sloughed. She stuck her hands on her hips, a picture of demanding femininity. Her neat chin jutted belligerently. ‘And who made him this offer?’
Dario permitted himself a small, satisfied smile. ‘I did. I offered him enough cash to ensure he gave up all thoughts of marrying you.’
It had been ludicrously easy. If Donnelly and this woman were lovers, there was no loyalty between them. Donnelly had jumped at the chance of cash in hand with no thought for the woman he’d jilt. It had been Dario who suggested he leave a message at the registry office.
Colour flagged her cheeks and her eyes sparked, giving her a vibrancy that had been missing before. A vibrancy that only enhanced her looks.
‘Why would you do that?’ She took a step closer as if to get a better look at him, staring straight into his eyes. Despite himself, Dario was impressed that she wasn’t daunted as so many people were in his presence.
But then she didn’t yet know who he was.
He shrugged and spread his hands. ‘Because he was in the way.’ And Dario had no patience for obstacles in his path. ‘Because you will be marrying me instead.’
CHAPTER TWO
HE MEANT it!
Unbelievably this stranger was in deadly earnest. Alissa shivered and curled her arms tight round herself. She stared up into that smirking, satisfied, gorgeous face and felt the bottom drop out of her world.
‘Who the devil are you?’ It emerged as a hoarse whisper, barely audible despite the stillness of the room.
For a heartbeat, then two, then three, there was silence.
‘I am Dario Parisi.’
The words echoed in her ears like a death knell. Why hadn’t she guessed before? The Italian accent, the outrageously handsome face, the arrogance, the air of discreet elegance only serious money could achieve. The hatred in his eyes.
But who’d believe he’d cross the globe to confront her in person? He’d been persistent. Now it seemed he was obsessed.
Alissa bit her unsteady lip. Looking into the intense burn of that stare was like looking into the scorching fires of hell. Dangerous, unforgiving and inescapable. She already knew this man was without mercy or finer feeling.
He had a reputation for ruthlessness and success the Press adored. In business he was without rival, letting nothing stand in his way when he wanted something. And in love…he had a reputation for being just as ruthless in acquiring and discarding gorgeous women.
‘I’m delighted you remember my name,’ he drawled, the sting of sarcasm making her wince. ‘I thought perhaps you’d put it from your mind.’
How could she when it had been imprinted on her consciousness every day? Her grandfather had been determined to marry her to Dario Parisi, alternately extolling his virtues and threatening her with retribution if she didn’t obey. He’d taken special delight in reading out reports in the Italian papers describing Parisi’s phenomenal success and his merciless tactics.
Her shivers grew to a shudder. A huge spider seemed to tap-dance down her backbone. She gritted her teeth and stood straighter, willing the trembling to recede.
It didn’t matter how powerful he was, or that years of threats had turned Dario Parisi into a name to fear. He was just a man. Wealthy, ruthless, determined, but he had no power over her.
‘You could have told me your name straight away. Or didn’t it suit your desire for melodrama?’ She refused to look away from that accusing glare. ‘Was I supposed to faint at the realisation I was in your presence?’
Alissa wouldn’t let him see how close she’d been to doing precisely that. Her heart pumped double time and her body was rigid from an overdose of adrenalin. But she had to stand up to him. She’d learned that was the only way to deal with a bully.
He scowled and Alissa experienced a fillip of delight that she’d chipped his superior air.
‘But then,’ he said in an easy voice as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘it’s not surprising you remember the name of the man you were supposed to marry.’
‘We were never—’
‘Ah, but we were, Alissa.’ He spoke her name like a slow, lethal caress, his emphasis on the sibilants giving it a whole new, provocative sound. ‘It had been agreed.’ The heat left his eyes, replaced by chilly hauteur.
‘Not by me!’ She drew herself up to her full height, glaring unabashed into his dark stare. ‘Surely the bride has something to say in such circumstances.’
He shrugged those broad shoulders in a movement that was pure Italian male. She hated it.
‘Not necessarily,’ he murmured.
She stared.
Not necessarily.
That attitude summed him up. He was just like the old man: manipulative, domineering
