The Mediterranean Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain. ABBY GREEN

that made her. Maybe it was the effects of her lingering cold as well. She was useless. She should never have come, never have left—

      The key turned in the lock and she jumped around, her heart lurching crazily. Dante D’Aquanni stood in the doorway. He took her breath away. He was even more shockingly handsome in the stark daylight. Dressed in black trousers, a dark grey shirt, he looked effortlessly cool, stylish and very much the successful businessman. And he also looked extremely annoyed. Any wish to try and make him see reason flew out of the window and Alicia felt her spine straighten; the familiar pain in her lower back made itself felt again, like a dull ache. She knew she shouldn’t have been doing so much, not to mention scrambling through bushes, only to be thrown over this man’s shoulder. Her insides went hot at the thought of that, cancelling out the pain.

      ‘Mr D’Aquanni—’

      He lifted a terse hand, halting her in her tracks when she took a tentative step forward. He came into the room with her bag and held out her phone. She reached for them eagerly. Her phone was still on silent and on the screen there were numerous missed calls listed, all from the hospital. Her bag fell out of nerveless fingers. Her face went white as she forgot everything and dialled the number.

      Turning her back on Dante, she asked for the ward sister when a voice answered. What she heard when the woman came on the line made her eyes close and she said a few shaken words.

      After cutting the connection she turned to face Dante D’Aquanni and he was surprised to see moisture in her eyes. He hadn’t been expecting that. He still felt slightly winded at seeing her just now, in the clear light of day. That mass of curly hair was pulled back, yet some tendrils of silky spirals were coming loose. Her eyes were huge—almost too big for her small, heart-shaped face—and dark brown. Like velvet. It was hard to focus for a second.

      But, as if he’d imagined it, the sheen of moisture in her eyes was gone, blinked away. She reminded him of a hissing kitten and he felt, above anything else, a curious need to reassure, protect. He had to smile inwardly to himself. She was certainly putting on a show worthy of an award—some operator.

      Panic mixed with relief made Alicia’s voice feel constricted. The connection had been bad but she’d heard enough. ‘That was the hospital; they’ve been trying to reach me. My sister has woken up and she’s asking for me, I have to go to her now.’ She’d worry about how later… This whole plan had been an unmitigated disaster and Alicia could only hope that Dante would let her go.

      ‘I know,’ he said curtly. The deep timbre of his voice resonated within her like some kind of sensual pull on her senses. It took a second for his words to sink in. He knew?

      Dante’s mouth tightened to a harsh line. Now that he’d had a glimpse of what was underneath the baggy clothes, he couldn’t be unaware of the effects, which gripped him with surprising and unwelcome force.

      Alicia looked up into dark eyes. When had he moved so close that she could touch him? She frowned slightly, annoyed that he could be so cool, calm, unflappable.

      ‘How do you know?’

      A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘There’s plenty I know, Miss Parker. And there’s plenty more I’m going to know when we get to England.’

      Relief flooded her, even as something very contradictory and ugly raised its head in the pit of her belly. ‘You mean, you agree? That is, you’re not going to deny that you’re the father any more?’

      He shook his head abruptly, irritation flashing across his face. He could practically see the pound signs in her devious eyes. ‘No. That’s where you’re still wrong. There is no doubt in my mind that I am not the father of your sister’s baby. That is if she is even pregnant.’

      Alicia bristled, incensed that he could still be denying it. ‘Of course she’s pregnant; she has a bump for crying out loud. She is not a liar. You are the father. She specifically told me—’

      He swiped his hand again. ‘If she did then she’s lying. This conversation is boring me. Let’s go.’

      He turned and walked from the room. Alicia grabbed her bag before rushing after him. ‘I told you, she is not a liar, Mr D’Aquanni—’

      He stopped at the top of the stairs and Alicia cannoned into his back. He turned and gripped her arms, holding her steady when she reeled slightly from coming into contact with his hard, muscle-packed form.

      ‘Enough! I don’t want to hear another word about this ridiculous claim. A helicopter will take us to the landing strip in Milan.’ He let her go abruptly, as if fearful of catching something from her, and perversely Alicia was stung and at the same time bemused. She’d come for this, had wanted to force him to return and face the music, but now she couldn’t quite believe it was happening.

      ‘You…you’re going to take me?’

      An arctic glance slid up and down her body. ‘With a one-way ticket here and barely enough money for a meal, not to mention a credit card I can only imagine is already maxed out, I don’t imagine you’d get very far in a hurry.’ And this has to be cleared up.

      He walked away from her down the wide stairs, a harsh inflection in his voice as it floated back up. ‘You and your sister picked the wrong man to play games with, Miss Parker. I am not going to entertain any further discussion about this baby. I will not be held to ransom by some half-baked accusation of parenthood.’ He turned and looked up darkly from the bottom of the stairs. ‘And you are not going to leave my sight until this is concluded to my satisfaction. You will pay for having so sorely tested my patience.’

      Alicia stood still for a moment when he turned and walked away and then thought a little hysterically that at least she wouldn’t have to worry about how she was going to get home. He was right. With only a questionable amount of credit left on her card, she really hadn’t even thought that far ahead, to her return. Her driving concern had been to see Dante D’Aquanni.

      And now she had. As she followed him down the stairs she felt very queasily as if she were on a train and they had just changed track for some unknown and very scary destination. And she knew, with that sick feeling, that there was no way she could call a halt and get off.

      Dante glanced across the aisle of his plane. The woman’s face was averted, her body tense and huddled into the seat, which seemed to dwarf her petite form. She was staring out of the window at the white expanse of cloud as if it contained some fascinating image that he couldn’t see. He wanted to go over, haul her out of the seat and demand payment for disrupting his life, making him trek all the way back to England, which had laid claim to him for almost a year previously. Make her pay—how? asked a snide voice as an unwelcome image of her crushed into his arms, her head falling back, throat and mouth bared for his kisses, inserted itself like a lurid B movie image into his imagination.

      His face hardened. She’d been silent since leaving the house. She’d shown no awe or surprise at the experience of being taken by helicopter to the private landing strip of a tiny airport reserved only for VIPs and dignitaries. When they had been in the helicopter she had not even needed to be told what to do, what safety procedures to follow. She’d done them automatically.

      So she was accustomed to the luxury that private helicopter travel afforded. While it didn’t gel immediately with the downbeat image she portrayed—he could vaguely remember jeans and another shapeless dark top in London, her hair tied back—he had to concede that she’d quickly smashed his first impressions. She’d proven that, with just soap and water; a lily had lain underneath all the grime and dust, under the voluminous garments. His chest tightened at the thought of how much a little more gilding might make her even more alluring. How the silk of a custom-made dress would skim and cling enticingly to those slight curves…

      Alicia turned her head as though compelled and found Dante looking at her with an intense expression on his face. It made more than a quiver of awareness run through her. It made her heart flip and thump unevenly.

      He settled back into his seat and regarded her coolly.