and she marched down the steps, too aware of Dario beside her. He was infuriating, impossible and an undoubted threat. Yet she couldn’t ignore a tiny thrill of awareness at his long, lean body so close to hers.
She must be going crazy.
‘In here, fidanzatina mia.’
‘I’m not your little fiancée.’ The words shot out of her mouth, indignation flaring anew. Her Italian was rusty but that she understood. ‘We don’t have an audience now so you can drop the act.’
She turned to see him inviting her to enter a limo, complete with tinted windows and a chauffeur standing to attention at the door. It was in a ‘No Stopping’ zone and the chauffeur, despite his suit, looked more like a burly bodyguard than a mere driver. More reminders of Dario’s status and wealth.
‘I’m not going anywhere in that.’ Not with Dario Parisi. Especially not in a limo with blacked-out windows, driven by a goon.
‘We have things to discuss.’ The thread of almost-temper wove through his words, though his face gave nothing away. ‘You know it. This isn’t finished.’
Unfortunately he was right. Alissa would have loved to stalk away and never see him again. But that wasn’t going to happen. Her shoulders slumped as weariness and worry took their toll. What choice did she have?
‘OK.’ She paused, thinking rapidly. ‘There’s a decent café two blocks away. We should find a quiet table.’
Silently he regarded her as if she were some unique specimen. Perhaps she was, refusing to kowtow to him. She’d bet a lot of women would just say ‘Yes, Dario. Whatever you say, Dario’, blinded by his wealth and fatal charm.
Even now the memory of his sexy smile warmed a shocked part of her.
‘Daccordo. Come on, then. Lead the way.’ He gestured her forward and paused to speak to the chauffeur.
You will be marrying me instead. His words resounded in her head as she walked. The words she’d steadfastly refused to think about for the last few minutes.
Could it be true? Could that be why he’d come to Australia? To claim her as his bride?
The idea sent a chill of trepidation through her. She tugged her shoulder bag on more securely and hugged her arms tight across her torso.
Dario Parisi’s bride…the very fate she’d been so determined to avoid.
How she’d paid for her determination that last year in the old man’s house. He’d never forgiven her refusal to comply with his scheme to link the two families.
She should have left home then, but she’d felt compelled to stay till Donna was legally old enough to leave home too. Donna had been her responsibility for as long as she could remember. She’d never leave her little sister alone to their grandfather’s tender mercies.
Absently she rubbed at her wrist, remembering Gianfranco’s reaction when she’d rejected the marriage he’d schemed to bring about.
‘You’re getting wet.’ The deep voice curled like smoke through her memories, drawing her back to the present.
She turned her head to find Dario walking beside her, holding an enormous umbrella over them both. Heat from his body transferred the few centimetres to hers: her arm, her shoulder, her hip and thigh. And further, spreading through her shock-numbed body. Latent energy sizzled off him in waves, sparking tingles of awareness.
What was this man? Some sort of power generator?
Her pulse quickened and so did her pace. She didn’t like the illusion of intimacy as he sheltered her from the rain. The world beyond the umbrella was an anonymous blur, cocooning them together as the soft rain became a downpour.
It didn’t seem to bother him, though the rain angled down so his legs must be getting wet. Had he chosen her left side to shelter her from a soaking? Surely not. This man was no protector.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured eventually, forcing the words through her tense lips, ‘for the umbrella.’
He looked at her then. She could no longer see the gleam of anger in his eyes or stark impatience. But his expression made her stomach muscles spasm tight, her breath falter. She read speculation and something that looked almost like possessiveness.
No! Abruptly she looked away. There was no expression in his eyes. Nothing at all.
‘Here. This is it.’ Alissa didn’t care if she sounded desperate to see the café. She plunged under its awning and pushed open the door, not waiting for him.
Dario shook the umbrella and followed her inside. She scurried in, spoke briefly to the waiter and took a seat with her back to the wall. The choice indicated Alissa Scott felt under threat. She had that much sense then.
Her jerky movements as she patted at her hair and fussed over her bag gave her away too. As did her furtive glances in his direction.
He dropped the umbrella inside the door, nodded at the waiter and strolled across the room, enjoying the way Alissa’s eyes widened at his approach.
Obviously she hadn’t bothered to discover what he looked like before today and his appearance was a surprise. The implied dismissal smarted. Yet though she tried to hide it, part of her response to him was feminine interest. Dario had been on the receiving end of female stares since adolescence. He could read those hot, guilty glances in a second.
One more piece of knowledge to use to his advantage. Who knew? Dealing with the recalcitrant Ms Scott might have unexpected bonuses.
He dragged out a chair and took a seat. His long legs tangled with hers till she shifted away.
What was he thinking? She was a cute little package, if one liked that sort of thing. But he was more discerning. Cheap goods weren’t to his taste.
The waiter was there as he settled in his seat.
‘Espresso,’ Dario murmured, not shifting his gaze from Alissa’s wide blue gaze. ‘And…?’
‘Hot chocolate.’
At his raised brows she muttered, ‘I don’t need a stimulant in my bloodstream.’
Why? Because she’d already taken something to see her through the day? No, she was sober enough. No sign of drug use. He’d scrutinised her carefully.
‘I just want to get warm.’
Despite the streaks of hectic colour on her cheeks she was pale. Stress? Shock? Annoyance at having her avaricious scheme ruined? He felt no sympathy at all.
Leaning back, he stretched his legs and shoved his hands in his pockets. She’d go nowhere till he was ready.
The silence grew thick. Dario was in no haste to break it. He knew how to use it to unnerve an adversary. What was the point in rushing? The outcome was a foregone conclusion. Let her sweat a little longer.
Yet she didn’t fidget. Her spine was straight and her gaze steady. Her attitude piqued his interest. She wasn’t easily intimidated. That surprised
