The Gold Collection. Maggie Cox

displayed properties to rent.

      ‘I’m going to ring an estate agent and hopefully view a place this afternoon.’ Rebekah spoke with a confidence she did not feel. Even if she found a flat it was unlikely she would be able to move in today. She prayed that her friend Charlie, who she had met when she had worked for the catering company, would allow her to stay with him for a few nights.

      Dante folded the letter and slipped it into his trouser pocket. ‘I accept your resignation—but you seem to have forgotten something. Under the terms of the contract you signed when you accepted the job as my chef you are required to give one month’s notice before you can leave.’

      Rebekah gave him a startled glance. ‘Well, yes, technically I suppose that’s true. But surely, under the circumstances …’

      ‘I have no problem with the circumstances,’ he said coolly. ‘It will be impossible for me to find a replacement cook in a few days and I demand you will work your full amount of notice—or I will sue you for breach of contract. Not only that,’ he continued, ignoring her shocked gasp, ‘but I will refuse to give you a reference. I know you left your previous job without a reference and I imagine it will be difficult for you to find another job when neither of your previous employers will vouch for you.’

      He paused to allow all this to sink in and then delivered the final blow. ‘If you walk out on me I will advise Gaspard Clavier that you are an unreliable employee, and he may well reconsider his job offer.’

      Rebekah felt sick. She guessed it was possible Dante could sue her if she did not fulfil the terms of her contract. He knew far more about the law than she did. But more worrying than the legal implications if she left her job without working her notice was the realisation that he could ruin her career. He was a hugely influential figure and if he spread the word among his rich friends, including Gaspard Clavier, that she was unreliable, she would struggle to find anyone to employ her. An unreliable chef was a restaurant owner’s worst nightmare and no one would risk taking her on without references.

      ‘I thought you would be glad for me to leave without any fuss,’ she said slowly, puzzled by his determination that she should stay.

      ‘Why would I want you to go when you’re a superb cook and an exciting lover?’

      His arrogant drawl brought a flush of angry colour to her cheeks. ‘If you insist on me working my notice, cooking is the only thing I’ll do for you. Sleeping with you was a one-off event, and to be honest it was a mistake I now regret. I must have been more affected by the alcohol in the fruit punch than I realised last night.’

      ‘You could be very bad for my ego if I believed that was true,’ Dante said in an amused voice. ‘But you weren’t drunk; you knew exactly what you were doing. And, what’s more, you want to do it again.’

      ‘The devil I do!’ Furiously Rebekah attempted to push past him, but to her shame she felt a flare of excitement when he snaked an arm around her waist and jerked her against him. ‘Dante, let go of me—I mean it …’

      He stilled her angry words by bringing his mouth down on hers and kissing her with barely suppressed savagery, grinding his lips hard against the tremulous softness of hers until she gave a low moan. Sensing her capitulation, Dante slid his hand down to her bottom and forced her pelvis into sizzling contact with his fiercely aroused body. His other hand moved to her hair and he pulled the pins from it so that it fell in a curtain of rich brown silk around her shoulders.

      The evocative sensation of Dante running his fingers through her hair was too much—he was too much—and, although Rebekah hated herself for her weakness, she could not fight him. Helpless in the face of his passionate onslaught, she parted her lips and he deepened the kiss so that it became intensely erotic. Her body recognized its master. He had given her the most pleasurable experience of her life the previous night and revealed a level of sensuality she had not known she possessed. Her breasts felt heavy and ached for his touch, and the flood of moist heat between her legs was a damning indictment of the sexual desire coursing through her veins.

      When he finally released her, she swayed on legs that felt as if they would not support her and stared at him wordlessly as she explored the swollen softness of her lips with the tip of her tongue.

      ‘That certainly proved something, didn’t it?’ Dante taunted her ruthlessly, ignoring the curious tug in his gut when he saw her stricken expression. ‘A word of advice—if you don’t want to be kissed, say it like you mean it. Otherwise the coming month that we’re going to be spending together in Tuscany could get very tedious.’

      ‘Tuscany?’ Rebekah queried shakily.

      ‘It’s written in your contract that I might occasionally want you to accompany me to Italy and carry out your duties as my cook at my home near Siena. I intend to spend the whole of July in Tuscany—’ he paused and gave her a glittering look ‘—and I will require your services.’

      He made her sound like a hooker, Rebekah thought furiously. She welcomed her spurt of temper. Anything was better than the numb sense of shame she had felt after the way she had responded to him.

      ‘I don’t want to go with you. You can’t make me.’

      He shrugged. ‘No. But if you refuse, I can, as I have already mentioned, make it difficult for you to find another job.’

      How on earth had she fooled herself into thinking he had a softer side? She must have imagined the element of tenderness she’d thought she had sensed when he had made love to her last night. Had sex with her, she amended. There had been nothing loving about it. She was infuriated by his arrogance and more than anything she wished she could tell him to go to hell.

      But the stark truth was that she had no choice but to honour the terms of her contract. She would have to accompany him to Tuscany if she was to have any hope of finding a job in the future, Rebekah acknowledged heavily. She did not want to risk Dante ruining her chance of working for Gaspard Clavier.

      She lifted her chin and said with cool dignity, ‘Very well, I will work out my month’s notice in Tuscany. But I want to make it clear that I will go there on a strictly professional basis as your chef.’

      ‘Is that so?’ Dante reached out and idly wound a strand of her long hair around his finger, but his indolent air was deceptive and the feral gleam in his eyes sent a frisson of nervous excitement down her spine.

      Before she could guess his intention, he gripped the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head.

      ‘How dare you?’ Breathing hard, her temper boiling over, Rebekah’s hand flew to his face. But he caught her wrist before she could strike him and held her firmly while he moved his other hand behind her and deftly unfastened her bra so that her breasts spilled free.

      ‘You are gorgeous.’

      Dante’s voice dropped to a husky growl that caused the tiny hairs on Rebekah’s body to stand on end. She realised as she watched the sudden flare of colour on his cheekbones that he was no more in control of the situation than she was. And somehow that made her feel better, made her less ashamed of her attraction to him, because although she hated herself for her weakness she could not deny her longing for him to make love to her again.

      He stroked her nipples and rolled them between his fingers until they hardened and tingled. ‘Stop fighting me, mia bellezza, and let me make love to you,’ he murmured, his breath warm on her skin, his tongue darting out to lick one tight bud so that it swelled in urgent response.

      A quiver of anticipation ran through Rebekah. But, as Dante trailed a line of kisses along her collarbone, she was conscious of a different, altogether more unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. She knew the headache she’d woken with was her body’s reaction to the alcohol she had unwittingly consumed at the party, and now a feeling of nausea swept over her.

      ‘Dante …’ she muttered, turning her head away as he was about to claim her mouth.

      ‘No more games, cara.’ He did not try to hide his