href="#uf5dc39af-d6d5-5681-9d3f-a156d542f61b"> CHAPTER FIVE
‘YOU CAN’T MAKE me marry him. You can’t make me marry anyone…’
Katie Collins perched nervously on the plush chair in the vast reception room of Zed Enterprises, gripping her bag and reminding herself to breathe often enough to remain conscious. If she’d had more pride—or any other option—she’d have walked out over an hour ago, but the threats relentlessly circling in her head had forced her to remain. He was the one person who had the power to help.
‘If you won’t marry him you can leave right now, and you know that would kill her—’
Katie blinked the horror away and focused on her surroundings. Alessandro Zetticci’s offices showcased a sleek, minimalist style—steel and chrome screamed masculine sophistication and the wealth he’d accumulated in an astoundingly short time. It didn’t surprise her. He’d always had the knack of knowing what people wanted.
It had been a decade since she’d seen him and, while certain aspects of that particular visit were branded in her brain, she was acutely aware that he mightn’t even remember who she was. She’d have to remind him before begging for his benevolence.
‘You’ll be homeless. So will the woman who’s spent years caring for you, you ungrateful little b—’
Katie again blocked the echo of the viciousness her foster father had spat at her. Seeking distraction, she glanced at the receptionist. Dressed in a sleek navy skirt and smooth white blouse, the tall blonde looked like a chic French movie star, ageing with impossible grace. Katie was also wearing a navy skirt with a white blouse, but where the receptionist’s was silk, Katie’s was synthetic, and right now it was sticking to her. Outclassed, out of place…she was never quite good enough—
Katie stiffened, snapping out of the self-pity. She didn’t need fancy clothes, given she worked in the orchards and the kitchen most of the time.
‘You can’t refuse after all I’ve done for you—’
A trickle of sweat slithered down her back, even though the building was beautifully climate-controlled. Her body was literally leaking her nerves. She uncurled her grip on her bag for the twentieth time. Only to immediately clutch the strap again as if it were her lifeline.
She’d not made an appointment, and it was sheer luck that Alessandro was in the office at all today. Too late she realised she had no idea what she’d have done if he hadn’t been. She still had no idea what she was going to do if he said no.
‘Don’t you want to be a real member of the family?’
That attempt at manipulation had stabbed deep. So after all this time Katie was still an outsider? She’d always felt Brian hadn’t wanted her, but for him to state it so explicitly, for him to try to force her into doing something insane… She was still an outsider. Still just someone who owed…
‘Do you want to watch her devastation?’
And that was the problem. She did owe Susan, her foster mother. She more than owed her—she loved her, and she had to protect her.
‘Ms Collins?’ The elegant receptionist finally interrupted her anxious reverie. ‘Alessandro is ready to see you now.’
Katie’s heart skidded. She was seized with the urge to bolt in the other direction. Instead she followed the older woman, drawing in a deep breath as she went.
It was a good thing she did, because the second she walked into his office her lungs, like the rest of her, were rendered immobile. She’d looked at recent pictures on the train ride here, so she’d thought she’d be immune. She’d been wrong. Alessandro Zetticci in the flesh was overwhelming.
Katie couldn’t smile as the receptionist left—couldn’t even see what the room was like, because she couldn’t peel her gaze from where he stood behind his desk. Flashes of rogue memory burned. Alessandro in the orchard. His smile. His low laugh. His broad shoulders…
She blinked, desperately focusing on him here and now and clothed.
His jet-black hair was straight and long enough to flop in his eyes. His sculpted cheekbones were emphasised by the razor-sharp edge of a perfectly symmetrical, masculine jaw. Lightly stubbled rather than clean-shaven, he looked as if it wasn’t long since he’d left his bed. Long black lashes and dark eyebrows framed his arresting eyes. Powder blue, they were brightly backlit by fierce burning intensity.
If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he wore coloured contact lenses, but Katie had seen him sullen and silent over the breakfast table and at Christmas dinners long gone by, and even then, when he’d been moody and resentful, his eyes had glowed with that brilliance.
His mouth had a natural sinful curve, a permanent wicked half-smile—as if he were thinking something slightly inappropriate. It was a mouth made to kiss. Katie remembered that.
The top button of his white shirt was undone, exposing a deeply tanned neck. That tan was an all-over one. Katie remembered that too.
The man was appallingly handsome. The kind of gorgeous rarely seen in the streets, that made ordinary people turn for a second, third, fourth look.
But it wasn’t only his smouldering looks that drew people’s attention. It was the energy that crackled from him. He had vitality—a kind of fire that drew everyone around him in. It was what had made his empire so massive, so quickly. Because of that smile and that aura of amusement, everyone wanted to lean closer, seduced by the self-assurance that glowed in his eyes.
More than self-assurance he had arrogance—a pure don’t-give-a-damn attitude that made him impossibly popular and his investments an unparalleled triumph. He looked ready for something far more enjoyable and intimate than business. He looked like a man with a wicked ability to have a good time. And he followed through on that appearance. He was irresistible—catnip to pretty much every woman in the world. And he was happy to be played with. But never caught.
Katie