prisoner?”
“He’s an infant, and my son. He needs guidance, and protection.”
“From your enemies?”
He regarded her steadily. “I have no enemies.”
“Except for me,” she said beneath her breath.
“You didn’t used to be.” He spoke the words just as softly, and her color stormed her face, staining her cheeks a hot pink, a clear indication that she also remembered how responsive she’d been in his bed.
A translucent bead of water fell from a tendril at her brow to her temple. With an impatient swipe of her fingers she knocked the water from her face but not before he noticed how her hand trembled.
She was flustered. Good. She should be. He was furious. Beyond furious. Jillian had hidden her pregnancy, until she had accidentally bumped into one of his employees while taking the baby for a walk. On hearing the news, he’d worked out the dates and rung her immediately. Jillian had the gall to first deny the baby was his, and then when he demanded a DNA test, she ran from him, keeping his son from him for nearly the entire first year of Joseph’s life.
Jill should be punished. And there would be consequences.
“In fact, I can still see you at the wheel of my new Ferrari in Bellagio,” he added. “You loved driving it, didn’t you? But then you loved everything about our time together at the villa in Lake Como. Including spending my money.”
“You make it sound like I had a thing for your money.”
“Didn’t you?” he countered, signaling his driver to move on.
“No!” she answered fiercely, as fresh pink color darkened her cheekbones, highlighting the shape of her delicate face. “Your money meant nothing to me. It still doesn’t.”
“So you didn’t enjoy the private jet, the villa, the servants, the car?”
“Things don’t impress me,” she threw at him, averting her head once more, giving him a glimpse of her neck and nape.
Her skin was pale, creamy, flawless, and his gaze traveled slowly over her, studying her elegant features and the mass of blond hair that hung in damp loose waves over her shoulders. The blond hair color was something new as well.
“I see. You were there for me.” He studied her lazily, as though trying to decide if he liked her better as a glossy chestnut brunette or this California beach-girl blonde, but his lazy, relaxed demeanor was a façade, because on the inside he was wound hard, and tight.
Never in his life had he been played the way she played him. Never. It still astonished him. Jill Smith had seemed so innocent. Sweet. Pure. God, he’d misjudged her. But now he knew, and he’d never be foolish enough to make that mistake again. “You cared for me.”
She met his gaze directly, her chin lifting. “I did care for you.”
“Past tense.”
Her eyes looked enormous but she didn’t back down. “Past tense.”
He glanced briefly out the window at the twisted, gnarled limbs of a cypress tree before focusing on her. “So what changed, Jill Smith?” he asked, emphasizing her name because her name, like the rest of her life, was invented. Jillian Smith didn’t exist. Jillian Smith was a fabrication. A very good one, but a fabrication nonetheless.
Her lies had made it difficult to track her down, but he was persistent, and he’d succeeded.
Now all that was left was bending her to his will to ensure his son’s health, wealth and happiness.
“Nothing happened.”
“No? Nothing happened?” One black eyebrow lifted quizzically.
“No.”
“No one whispered in your ear? No one told you something that sent you packing?”
Her jaw dropped a little before she snapped it closed, and yet even then she looked sick. Scared. He wondered if that’s what she felt that day in Bellagio when his young housemaid told Jill he was part of the mafia. Silly housemaid to talk of things she knew little about. Silly girl to think he wouldn’t find out. His staff had to know there were security cameras everywhere.
“What did you do to her?” Jill whispered hoarsely.
“Fired her.” And then he rolled his eyes at Jill’s expression. “You think I’d hurt an eighteen-year-old girl for saying the word Mafioso? Ridiculous. That just proves how little you know of me. I am not a cruel man. I do not hurt people, or give orders to have people hurt. That’s barbaric.”
And still she looked at him warily, her emotions volatile as fear, anxiety and uncertainty flitted across her face one after the other. “So you really do mean to take me to Sicily with you?”
“Yes,” he answered decisively.
“And you won’t keep me from Joe?”
“Not as long as you cooperate.”
A tiny pulse jumped at the base of her throat. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’ll cooperate. You’ll do what I ask you to do cheerfully, pleasantly and immediately.”
Apparently she didn’t like the sound of that as her brown eyes shot daggers at him. “And if I don’t?”
“You will be sent packing.”
“You can’t do that.”
“No?” His dark gaze met hers and held for long, tense seconds. “You will be living in my home, in my country, among my family and my people. Who will stop me? Hmm?”
She inhaled sharply. “You can’t use Joe as a weapon against me,” she whispered, her voice failing her.
“But isn’t that what you did to me?”
“I was trying to protect him—”
“From me, yes, I figured that out. But Jill, what a serious, terrible, tactical error.”
Her gaze searched his, a deep line of worry between her eyebrows. “And if I cooperate for seventeen years?”
“You’ll remain with us, enjoy my protection, wealth and all the privileges of being part of the d’Severano family.”
“And yet if I stand by and cooperate, you’ll succeed at turning him into one of you.”
“You make us sound like a horde of vampires.”
“You’re not much different, are you?”
“According to today’s popular culture, vampires are in.”
“Not with me.”
“You’re anti vampire?”
“I’m
