you chose the hard way.’
Her head shot up. ‘You blame me for this mess?’
‘If the cap fits…’ He looked so at ease, sipping his espresso, his dark suit parted casually, like a model in a glossy lifestyle magazine. Except no paid model would ever wear that lethally calculating expression.
‘We could have married several years ago when I first agreed to the idea.’
Her grandfather’s idea. Dario had only agreed after Gianfranco rejected offer after offer to buy the Sicilian estate. He’d vowed the only way a Parisi would get his hands on it was to marry her.
Alissa had refused. And she’d paid for her disobedience. Absently she ran a finger over her wrist, a nervous gesture that stopped under Dario’s scrutiny.
‘I suppose your need for funds wasn’t so urgent then. Your grandfather was alive to indulge you.’
Alissa almost laughed aloud at the idea of being indulged by the old man. ‘Or perhaps I just objected to marrying you.’ She put her palms on the table. She’d had enough of his jibes and his self-assurance. She wished she could find some vulnerability in him. But his only response was a quirk of the lips as if her riposte amused him.
‘That doesn’t bother you?’ She lifted her chin.
‘Our marriage isn’t a meeting of minds. Or a consummation of romantic love. It’s business. Otherwise I would not contemplate marrying a woman like you.’
He spoke through a chilling half-smile and Alissa shivered. Ruthless. That was Dario Parisi. She felt a net draw inextricably tighter around her, leaving no way out.
She’d thought she knew all about ruthless men. But the way his relaxed demeanour cloaked bone-deep obsession gave a whole new perspective on the type. Foreboding sliced through her. He was relentless, biding his time patiently for years as he waited to acquire the property he wanted. And acquire her in the process.
He leaned close, the smile sliding off his face. ‘You should have accepted the offer I made after your grandfather died. Marriage, a quick divorce and a handsome settlement in return for your share of the estate.’
Except she’d wanted nothing to do with her grandfather’s property. She’d had no qualms giving up her chance for wealth, especially with such strings attached. When her lawyer told her of Dario’s second proposal after her grandfather’s death, she’d rejected it instantly.
‘I didn’t want the estate then,’ she murmured.
‘No, you thought you could challenge the will and inherit alone, without the inconvenience of sharing with me.’ Suspicion darkened his gaze. ‘Greed runs strong in your family.’
‘You should talk!’ She leaned towards him, recklessly disregarding the zap of electricity that sheared between them as their glares clashed. ‘You’ll do anything to get your hands on the castello.’
This close she saw the fine-grained texture of his skin, the shadow darkening his chin. She inhaled the scent of spicy male skin and citrus and her nostrils quivered.
Too close screamed a warning voice in her head as each sense came alive to his presence. Alarm bells jangled as her heartbeat revved and her skin prickled.
Before she could move large hands captured hers, imprisoning them on the table. Long fingers linked around her wrists. Heat radiated from his touch.
‘No doubt you also inherited a hatred of my family. You were determined to keep for yourself what’s mine.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I just didn’t want the money.’ Not until the news that Donna needed help.
The impact of his unblinking regard and his handsome, brooding face was devastating. She jerked her hands, trying to break free.
His encircling fingers didn’t loosen. To an onlooker they’d seem like lovers. He was so intense, his wide shoulders crowding her in, cutting her off from the room.
‘Don’t lie. You grew up with money and you’re feeling the pinch now you have to fend for yourself.’ He paused. ‘It must have been a shock to find Gianfranco had left most of his estate to charity.’ One sleek, dark brow rose speculatively. ‘You fell out with him.’
‘You could say that.’
He shook his head. ‘I know about your…habits. They don’t come cheap.’ His face hardened, grooves appearing beside his mouth. ‘Even though you seem to have cleaned up your act lately, your record with designer drugs shows you have expensive tastes.’
Alissa goggled. He knew about that? Nausea churned in her stomach at the memories he’d dredged up. Bile choked her. This man knew about her past and judged her with such matter-of-fact contempt. Yet still he wanted to marry her!
How badly he wanted that land.
Looking into his wintry, judgemental eyes, she wanted to blurt out that she’d never taken drugs in her life. That she’d been innocent.
She couldn’t. Only one other person knew the truth. The person she’d vowed to protect, even at the cost of her reputation. She’d gladly shouldered the blame and accepted the consequences. It was too late to change the record now. Besides, Dario Parisi was so biased he’d never believe her.
‘You had me investigated,’ she said flatly.
‘Of course.’ He slid a thumb along the side of her hand in a mockery of a caress. To her horror her skin drew tight and shivery. ‘Even to gain my birthright, I would not walk into marriage without knowing my bride.’
He lingered over the last word with a deliberation that set her teeth on edge. She felt trapped. Claustrophobia gnawed the edges of her consciousness. She fought it, refusing to let it drag her under. She tried to slip one hand free, but his hold was implacable.
‘Why wait till today to buy Jason off?’ She hurried into speech, unnerved by his waiting silence.
‘My staff contacted Mr Donnelly as soon as you sought permission to marry.’
‘You organised this weeks ago?’ Her eyes widened as she took in his satisfied expression.
‘As if I’d leave it to chance! While you expected to marry him I knew exactly what your plans were.’
‘And by having him jilt me today, you cut off my options.’ The air was expelled from her lungs. ‘I have to marry within a month to inherit.’ She breathed deep, ignoring the acid taste of fear on her tongue. ‘And in Australia we have to give a month’s notice before marriage. Which means—’
‘You just ran out of alternatives.’ His smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Unless you have another bridegroom tucked up your sleeve?’ He paused and stroked an insolent finger along her wrist. Her pulse jumped and she gritted her teeth, furious with him and with her traitorous body that didn’t know the enemy when he sat before her.
‘No one else willing to sign a document like this—’ he nodded at the paper beneath her hands ‘—before close of business today?’
His sarcasm made her blood boil. ‘You manipulative, arrogant, cocksure—’
‘Now, now, Alissa. Is that any way to talk to the one man who can give you what you want?’ His gaze roved over her with a provocative thoroughness that was the final straw.
‘Take your hands off me. Now!’ She didn’t raise her voice but raw fury throbbed in each word.
His brows arched. His fingers loosened. She slid her hands into her lap and cradled them, trying to ignore the heat of his touch lingering on her skin. Trying to conquer her fear.
She wanted to shove her chair back and walk out, alone. Never see Dario Parisi’s gorgeous fallen-angel face or hear his mocking, sexy voice again.
The trouble was she lived in the real world, with responsibilities she