The Venadicci Marriage Vengeance. Melanie Milburne

firm Dad has organised and have you banned from entry. I’m marrying Tristan tomorrow no matter what you say. I love him.’

      ‘You don’t know who or what you want right now,’ he said, with a fast-beating pulse showing at the corner of his mouth. ‘Damn it, Gabriella, you’re only just twenty-one. Your brother’s suicide has thrown you. It’s thrown all of us. Your engagement was a knee-jerk reaction. For God’s sake, a blind man could see it.’

      The mention of her brother and his tragic death unleashed a spurt of anger Gabby had not been able to express out of respect for her shattered parents. It rose inside her like an explosion of lava, and with the sort of strength she had no idea she possessed, she tore herself out of his hold and delivered a stinging slap to his stubbly jaw. It must have hurt him, for her hand began to throb unbearably, all the delicate bones feeling as if they had been crushed by a house brick.

      Time stood still for several heart-stopping seconds.

      Something dangerous flickered in his grey-blue eyes, and then with a speed that knocked the breath right out of her lungs he pulled her into his crushing embrace, his hot, angry mouth coming down on hers…

      Gabby had to shake herself back to the present. She hated thinking about that kiss. She hated remembering how she had so shamelessly responded to it. And she hated recalling the bracelet of fingertip bruises she had worn on her wedding day—as if Vinn Venadicci, in spite of her covert word to Security to keep him out of the church, had vicariously come along to mock her marriage to Tristan Glendenning anyway.

      ‘Just tell me what you want and get it over with,’ she said now, with a flash of irritation, as she continued to face him combatively across the expanse of his desk.

      ‘I want you to be my wife.’

      Gabby wasn’t sure what shocked her the most: the blunt statement of his intentions or the terrifying realisation she had no choice but to agree.

      ‘That seems rather an unusual request, given the fact we hate each other and have always done so,’ she managed to say, without—she hoped—betraying the flutter of her heart.

      ‘You don’t hate me, Gabriella,’ he said with a sardonic smile. ‘You just hate how I make you feel. It’s always been there between us, has it not? The forbidden fruit of attraction: the rich heiress and the bad boy servant’s son. A potent mix, don’t you think?’

      Gabby sent him a withering look. ‘You are delusional, Vinn,’ she said. ‘I have never given you any encouragement to think anything but how much I detest you.’

      He got to his feet and, glancing at his designer watch, informed her dispassionately, ‘Time’s up, Blondie.’

      She gritted her teeth. ‘I need more time to consider your offer,’ she bit out.

      ‘The offer is closing in less than thirty seconds,’ he said with an indomitable look. ‘Take or leave it.’

      Frustration pushed Gabby to her feet. ‘This is my father’s life’s work we’re talking about here,’ she said, her voice rising to an almost shrill level. ‘He built up the St Clair Resort from scratch after that cyclone in the seventies. How can you turn your back on him after all he’s done for you? Damn it, Vinn. You would be pacing the exercise yard at Pentridge Jail if it wasn’t for what our family has done for you.’

      His eyes were diamond-hard, the set to his mouth like carved granite. ‘That is my price, Gabriella,’ he said. ‘Marriage or nothing.’

      She clenched her hands into fists, her whole body shaking with impotent rage. ‘You know I can’t say no. You know it and you want to rub it in. You’re only doing this because I rejected your stupid spur of the moment proposal seven years ago.’

      He leaned towards the intercom on his desk and pressing the button, said calmly, ‘Rachel? Is my next client here? Mrs Glendenning is just leaving.’

      Gabby could see her father’s hard-earned business slipping out of his control. He would have to sell the house—the house his parents and grandparents before him had lived in. Gabby could imagine the crushing disappointment etched on his face when she told him she had failed him, that she hadn’t been able to keep things afloat as her brilliantly talented brother would have done. If Blair was still alive he would have networked and found someone to tide him over by now. He would have had that margin call solved with a quick call to one of his well-connected mates. That was the way he had worked. He had lived on the adrenalin rush of life while she… Well, that was the problem.

      She couldn’t cope.

      She liked to know what was going to happen and when it was going to happen. She hated the cut and thrust of business, the endless going-nowhere meetings, the tedious networking at corporate functions—not to mention the reams of pointless paperwork. And most of all she hated the rows and rows of numbers that seemed more of a blur to her than anything else.

      Gabby liked to… Well, there was no point in thinking about what she liked to do, because it just wasn’t going to happen. Her dreams had had to be shelved and would remain shelved—at least until her father could take up the reins again… If he took up the reins again, she thought, with another deep quiver of panic.

      Gabby had been the last person to speak to her brother; the last person to see him alive before he ended his life with a drug overdose. Because of that she had responsibilities to face. And face them she would. Even if they were totally repugnant to her. Being forced to marry a man like Vinn Venadicci was right up there on the repugnant scale. Or maybe repugnant wasn’t quite the right word, she grudgingly conceded. Vinn was hardly what any woman would describe as physically off-putting. He was downright gorgeous, when it came down to it. That long, leanly muscled frame, that silky black hair, those sensually sculptured lips and those mesmerising eyes were enough to send any woman’s heart aflutter—and Gabby’s was doing a whole lot more than fluttering right now at the thought of being formally tied to him.

      Entering into a marriage contract with Vinn was asking for trouble—but what else could she do? Who was going to lend her that amount of money in less than twenty-four hours?

      Gabby gulped as she glanced at him again. Could she do it? Could she agree to marry him even though it was madness?

      Actually, it was dangerous… Yes, that was the word she had been looking for. Vinn was dangerous. He was arrogant, he was a playboy, and—even more disturbing—he had a chip on his shoulder where she was concerned.

      But she had nowhere else to turn—no other solution to fix this within the narrow timeframe. It was up to her to save her family’s business, even if it meant agreeing to his preposterous conditions.

      ‘All right,’ Gabby said on a whooshing breath of resignation. ‘I’ll do it.’

      ‘Fine,’ Vinn said, in a tone that suggested he had never had any doubt of her accepting, which somehow made it all the more galling. ‘The money will be deposited within the next few minutes. I will pick you up this evening for dinner, so we can go through the wedding arrangements.’

      Gabby felt herself quake with alarm. ‘Couldn’t we just wait a few days until I have time to—?’

      His cynical laugh cut her off. ‘Until you have time to think of a way out, eh, Gabriella? I don’t think so, cara. Now I have you I am not going to let you escape.’

      ‘What am I supposed to say to my parents?’ she asked, scowling at him even as her stomach did another nosedive of dread.

      He smiled. ‘Why not tell them you’ve finally come to your senses and agreed to marry me?’

      She gave him another glare that would have stripped three decades of paint off a wall. ‘They will think I have taken leave of my senses.’

      ‘Or they will think you have fallen head over heels in love,’ he said. ‘Which is exactly what I would prefer them to believe at this point in time. Your father’s health is unstable and will be for some weeks after the surgery, I imagine. I wouldn’t