combat.
Her brain screamed a warning and Ella stepped back. The scrape of her heel on the flagstone was unnaturally loud. Even her breathing was amplified, and her pulse, beating that quick tattoo.
‘No, I don’t want to touch you. Not now, not ever.’ Just as well there was no summer thunderstorm tonight or she might have been struck down for the enormity of that lie. ‘I won’t be seeing you again, Donato. Goodbye.’
Squaring her shoulders, half expecting him to stop her, Ella turned and strode along the terrace back towards the bright lights and people.
He let her go. See, it had been easy after all. She’d called Donato’s bluff and that was the end of it.
That was not disappointment she felt. It was relief that she’d never have to see him again.
DONATO WATCHED ELLA march away. He’d thought nothing about Reg Sanderson could surprise him. Yet Sanderson’s daughter had stopped him in his tracks.
Ella. He savoured her name.
Perhaps it had been a mistake pulling away from her. Maybe if he hadn’t kept his distance he’d have shattered this illusion that she was different.
Except it would take more than a quickie up against the garden wall to quench what was inside him.
Which, he assured himself, fitted his plans perfectly.
That was what he had to concentrate on. Revenge. He’d always known it would be sweet. With Ella as an added bonus it would be delicious.
He sauntered to the house. There was no one here he wanted to spend time with. Only Ella. Despite her bravado he’d read her fear. Sensible woman. But he’d allay those fears and ensure she enjoyed their time together.
He’d stopped to tell a waiter about the broken glass on the lower level when Sanderson appeared. His pale eyes looked almost febrile, belying his casual stance. Satisfaction stirred. This had been a long time coming. Too long. He intended to enjoy every moment of Sanderson’s descent into ruin.
‘All alone, Donato?’ He scowled. ‘Where’s that girl of mine? Don’t tell me she’s left you alone?’
‘Ella was tired.’
‘Tired? I’ll give her tired!’ he roared. ‘I—’
‘It’s better she gets her sleep tonight.’ Donato kept his voice bland though he wanted to grab Sanderson by the scruff of his neck and shake him till his teeth rattled.
Because Donato hated him with every fibre of his being? Or because of the way he spoke of Ella? Didn’t the man realise how precious family was? Had he no concept of protecting his child against a man whom everyone knew was as implacable and dangerous as they came?
What sort of man sold his daughter to a stranger?
Donato already knew the answer. Reg Sanderson. The bastard had already destroyed too many lives.
It would be a public service as well as a pleasure to see he got his just deserts.
Darkness engulfed him. No, Donato wouldn’t see him dead, which was what he deserved. Donato had come close to killing once and he’d learned a lot since then. This way was better. Sanderson’s suffering would be drawn out.
‘She should have stayed here, with you. I apologise.’
Donato raised his hand. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll see her tomorrow.’
‘You will?’ The older man’s expression stilled. ‘So, you’re interested? In Ella?’ Was that barely concealed shock in his voice? Sanderson had no notion what a gem his daughter was. The man was blind as well as deplorable.
Donato had seen the photos of Ella’s sister, a golden girl with obvious allure. Yet if he really sought a bride he wouldn’t choose Felicity Sanderson. If reports were accurate, she hadn’t a loyal bone in her body.
Did Ella really believe her sister would stick with this new lover, or did she merely try to protect her from the danger he, Donato, represented?
The idea of her protecting anyone from him was ludicrous, given his far superior power and resources. Yet the notion stuck and he filed it away for future consideration.
‘It was a delight meeting someone so refreshing and intelligent.’ Forthright and clever enough to be suspicious, Ella had intrigued from the instant she’d looked at him.
Sanderson didn’t quite hide his satisfaction. His smile was hungry. ‘It’s wonderful you hit it off so well. I’d hoped you would. There’s no telling with Ella; sometimes she can be a little...’
‘A little...?’
Sanderson shrugged and took a swig of his drink. ‘To be frank, she can be a little outspoken sometimes. But in a good way, of course. Refreshing, as you say.’
He smiled that conspiratorial smile as if they were good buddies and Donato had to repress the compulsion to slam his fist into the other man’s whiter than white capped teeth. He’d done a lot of things in his time, some of them society had labelled reprehensible. But nothing that sickened him like playing Sanderson’s temporary friend.
‘I prefer honesty to polite platitudes.’ Especially when those platitudes hid murky secrets.
‘Don’t we all?’
‘Meeting your daughter has helped me feel I know you better. That’s important if we’re to work together.’
‘I thought you’d see it that way.’ Sanderson paused, then said carefully, ‘So, you want to proceed with the partnership and the loan?’ His absolute stillness gave him away. He was strung tight.
Grim satisfaction filled Donato. ‘Definitely. This is too good an opportunity to miss.’
It had taken years of preparation to reach this point, and now he was poised to destroy Sanderson financially and socially. If he couldn’t put him behind bars for his crimes, Donato would at least see he lost what he cared for most. ‘My staff are ready to meet at ten tomorrow to discuss the details.’
‘You won’t be there?’ Concern flared in Sanderson’s eyes. Excellent. It was time he discovered he couldn’t keep running from the consequences of his actions.
‘My staff are competent to handle the meeting. I plan to be with Ella, getting to know her better.’
‘I’m sure she’ll love that.’
Not initially, Donato knew, but he’d change her mind. He looked forward to it.
‘Does that mean you liked my notion of a Salazar-Sanderson marriage?’ Sanderson looked urbane and relaxed, yet the ripple on the surface of his whisky betrayed him.
Donato scrutinised him, from his deep tan and perennially gold hair to the gloss only close acquaintance with serious
