Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender: Seducing His Enemy's Daughter / Surrendering to the Vengeful Italian / Soldier Under Siege. Annie West

invitation.

      He needed to pull back. He’d made his point. They were in a public place.

      But he didn’t give a damn about creating a scene. Not with Ella in his arms. Not when he wanted to erase the hint of pain he’d read in her eyes. And forget the slash of guilt that he, with his insistence on this farce of an engagement, had made her a target for that witch’s claws. But he couldn’t renege now. Not so close to bringing Sanderson to ruin.

      Did guilt heighten his desire? Donato wanted to lose himself in Ella. She was a drug in his blood, a pleasure he’d grown addicted to.

      Carajo, he was even hearing bells now. Kissing Ella, holding her in his arms, made him forget where he was.

      Her hands on his shoulders shifted, pushed, and she pulled her head back. Dazed silver eyes met his, their pupils huge and unfocused.

      Donato leaned in to take her mouth again.

      ‘No.’ Her whisper came from lips now bare of make-up but deliciously dark and plump from their kisses. ‘Interval’s over.’

      Donato looked around the rapidly emptying space. What had begun as a deliberate display had become something else. The burn of rage and guilt in his belly and the indefinable emotions that stirred when Ella had turned to him, looking proud yet so vulnerable, had torn away something within him. He’d wanted to erase every vestige of hurt from her face, but in the process he’d lost himself.

      Nato, she’d called him. And it had felt right. So right he hadn’t wanted to draw back.

      He’d wanted to help her but he’d also needed to tap into that sense of well-being she always gave him. It was a feeling he’d come to crave.

      And he’d wanted to possess her. Still he clutched her, one hand anchored now in her honey-brown hair, making a delectable mess of her upswept style.

      She straightened, her hands going self-consciously to her hair as her gaze slid to the last stragglers.

      ‘Leave it,’ Donato growled, his voice rough. ‘I prefer it that way.’

      ‘And that’s all that matters, is it?’ She tossed her head, pouting, and he smiled.

      ‘No, but it’s true. And surely I deserve some reward.’

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘Because you lied about my body to save my pride.’

      ‘You really have no idea, do you, cariño?’ She was a remarkable mix of savvy and innocent. ‘I spoke nothing but the truth.’

      Her beautiful mouth sagged and he smiled wryly.

      ‘I deserve a reward because, despite my inclinations, I’m going to take you in to see the second half of the play. I’m not going to ravish you until we get home or at least to the car.’ He drew in a breath that wasn’t as steady as he’d like. ‘You’re going to show that witch and her ilk you don’t give a damn for her empty insults because you’re far superior to her in every way. Besides, you’ve got the most powerful, wealthy, scary man in Sydney wrapped around your little finger.’

      ‘Donato?’ She blinked and her mouth wobbled. ‘Don’t be kind to me. You don’t need to pretend.’

      The look on her face broke something Donato couldn’t even name. He found himself hauling her in, kissing her, hard and thoroughly, on that ripe mouth till he felt her turn pliant. Then he made himself pull back, telling himself restraint was good for the soul.

      ‘Our situation isn’t simple, Ella.’ Not for the first time he wished they’d met under different circumstances. ‘But this is real. You’re the woman I want.’ He dragged in another breath and straightened his jacket, pretending the stark truth of those words didn’t make his heart drum faster. ‘Now come in before I change my mind and take you to the nearest bed.’

      For a moment she said nothing, just stared, her head tilted to one side as the half-time bells fell silent.

      Finally she slipped her arm through his. Donato was surprised at the rush of unfamiliar feeling that simple gesture evoked.

      ‘You’re wrong, you know,’ she murmured as they entered the theatre side by side. ‘You might be powerful but you’re not really scary. Not when you can be so nice.’

      Donato almost stumbled. Nice! If only she knew.

      * * *

      ‘You’re sure you’re okay, Ella? I know Dad when he wants something. I’ve never seen him so worked up as that last day I was in Sydney.’

      Over the long-distance connection Ella heard the shudder in her sister’s voice. Despite Fuzz’s privileged position as their father’s favourite, she’d suffered too, living with Reg Sanderson. They all had. But it was something the three siblings had learned to keep to themselves. Put on a public face and hide what you feel.

      Ella looked across Donato’s beautiful garden to the dark waters of the Pacific.

      ‘He’s not bothering me now.’ Donato had seen to that and, despite her concerns about this sham engagement, it was wonderful not to have to deal with her father.

      ‘You need to be careful. Dad’s desperate. He couldn’t be persuaded, and you know I can usually bring him around eventually.’

      Ella had always envied Fuzz that ability. Ella had never been able to satisfy or soothe him.

      ‘He was so set on marriage! I couldn’t marry some stranger now I have Matthew.’

      ‘You’re really in love, then?’ Even now, the idea of her sister committed to one man took some getting used to.

      Fuzz laughed. Not her usual light laugh. This was husky and somehow more real. ‘I am. Matthew’s wonderful, so capable and practical. When there’s a problem he doesn’t shout, he just fixes it. He’s kind and tender and...caring. And he thinks I’ve got talent, Ella. Real talent!’

      ‘Of course you have. We all know that. You’re a natural with colour and design.’

      There was silence on the line. It lasted so long Ella wondered if the connection had dropped out. ‘I should have stuck to that design course years ago, shouldn’t I? Instead of taking off to the Caribbean for a couple of months.’

      Ella shifted the phone, frowning. She’d never heard her sister regretful. She knew Fuzz had changed but hadn’t expected this.

      ‘There’s nothing stopping you doing one now.’

      ‘Ever the pragmatist, sis. I knew I could rely on you for a sensible response.’

      Ella felt a pinprick of hurt. That was her. Always the pragmatic, mundane one who worried about consequences and responsibilities. Not the pretty, appealing one. Except when she was with Donato. He almost convinced her—

      ‘I don’t deserve you, sis. You’re in this mess because I did a runner rather than face this Salazar guy.’ Fuzz sighed. ‘I wish I was as strong and sure as you. I always wanted to be...purposeful but I’m as weak as water. Even when we were kids you were the one with integrity and grit.’

      ‘Fuzz?’ Was this her nothing-can-faze-me sister?

      ‘Don’t sound surprised. You know it’s true.’

      Ella sank into a poolside chair, her legs unsteady. ‘You’re confusing mundane with strong. I just never lived up to expectations so I had to find my own way.’

      ‘Don’t! You’ve listened to Dad too much. He hated that you stood up to him. Why do you think he always found fault? Because you challenged him. I wish I’d learned to do that sooner. Getting away from him was the best thing I ever did.’

      Ella brushed back the hair that had escaped her high ponytail. Typically her attempt at casual chic was a disaster, with strands of hair dangling around her face.

      ‘I’m glad you did, Fuzz. You deserve