His Merciless Marriage Bargain. Jane Porter

you just now figuring that out?”

      The front door suddenly swung open, and he kept her close as they entered the palazzo, passing through the high wooden doors and into the cavernous central hall lit by an enormous Murano chandelier, at least seven feet tall, a masterpiece of sparkling glass leaves, flowers and fruits all set amongst intricate, delicate glass rods and fanciful, fragile arabesques.

      A member of his staff had obviously been at the front door watching and waiting for them, as the front door opened before Giovanni could touch it, and then closed quietly behind them. Rachel turned her head, craning to see if it was the old man who’d answered the door earlier, but Giovanni was urging her forward, moving her toward the stairs.

      Think, she told herself. She needed to clear her head and follow a thought all the way through instead of this—this capitulation of reason and control.

      “You can let me go now,” she said, shrugging to free herself. “There are no cameras here.”

      His arm fell away but his fingers remained low on her spine, creating insistent pressure as he marched her up the sweeping marble stairs to a formal salon on the second floor. The doors again magically closed behind them and only then did Giovanni’s hand leave her.

      She felt more than a little lost as she glanced around a room that could only be described as magnificent. More glittering chandeliers lined the ceiling, with matching sconces on the wall. Tall windows overlooked the canal while massive framed mirrors covered portions of the walls, the antique mirrors reflecting the gray light outside, highlighting the frescoed and plasterwork ceiling.

      Rachel was out of her element but she’d never let him know. It was bad enough that he thought she’d enjoyed his kiss.

      “Who has Michael?” she asked, standing stiffly in the center of the room. “Can you send for him?”

      “No.” Giovanni gestured for her to sit. “We have quite a lot to discuss before he joins us.”

      “We can talk once he’s back with me.”

      “You left him here. I’m not about to just hand him over as if he were a lost wallet or umbrella.”

      “You know why I did that.”

      “I know you’re an impulsive woman—”

      “You could not be more wrong. I am a very calm person—” She went quiet as she saw the lift on his eyebrow. “You’re making me upset. You’ve been impossible from the start.”

      “We’ve only just met, and it was not an auspicious first meeting, with you abandoning an infant on my doorstep, and then running from the scene.”

      Rachel clamped her jaw tight to keep from speaking too quickly, aware that every word could and would be used against her. She fought to control the pitch and tone of her voice. “I did not abandon him. I would not ever abandon him. I love him.”

      “Odd way of showing it, don’t you think?”

      “I was trying to get your attention.”

      “And now you have it.” He gestured again toward the silk upholstered chair and sofa. “May I help you with your coat?”

      “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.”

      He gave her an odd look, his lips twisting as if amused. “Are you sure you won’t be more comfortable?”

      “I’ll be more comfortable when I have the baby.”

      “He’s in good hands at the moment, and we have a great deal to discuss before he joins us. So I do suggest you try to be comfortable, since the conversation probably won’t be.” Gio’s gaze rested intently on her face before dropping to study the rest of her. “It’s been an unusually eventful morning. I’m sending for a coffee. Would you like one?”

      She shook her head, and then changed her mind. “Yes, please.”

      He reached for his phone from a pocket and shot off a message. “Coffee should be here soon,” he said, sitting down in the pale blue silk armchair facing the upholstered sofa. He stretched his legs before him, looking at ease. “Are you quite certain you wish to stand for the rest of the day?”

      His tone was lazy, almost indulgent, and it provoked her more than if he’d spoken to her sternly. She felt her face flush and her body warm. “I certainly have no intention of being here more than a half hour at most.”

      “You think we can sort out Michael’s future in thirty minutes or less?”

      He sounded pleasant and reasonable, too reasonable, and it put her on guard, hands clenching at her sides, knuckles aching with the tightness of the grip. He was easier to fight when he was defensive and angry. Now she felt as if she were the difficult one.

      It wasn’t fair but clearly he didn’t play by any rules but his own.

      Drawing a quick breath, she sat down on the edge of the small wood framed sofa, the elegant and delicate shape popular hundreds of years ago, the silver silk fabric gleaming with bits of red and pale blue threads.

      She folded her hands in her lap, waiting for him to speak. It was a tactic that worked well with her wealthy clients. They preferred being in control, and they felt most in control when they could dictate the conversation. She’d let Gio direct the conversation. He’d think he was in charge that way and she could use the time to regroup and plan.

      But Giovanni was in no hurry to speak. He leaned back in his chair, legs extended, and watched her.

      There was no sound in the grand room. No ticking clock. No creaking of any sort. Just silence, and the silence was excruciating.

      Her pulse quickened as time stretched, lengthening, testing her patience. Her nerves felt wound to a breaking point. She exhaled hard. “If we don’t speak it will definitely take longer than a half hour to sort out Michael’s future,” she said shortly, irritated beyond reason with Giovanni. He was playing a game with her even now, and it made her impossibly angry.

      “I was giving you time to compose yourself,” he answered with a faint smile. “You were trembling so much earlier I thought you could use a bit of time for rest and reflection.”

      “It was cold and damp and windy outside. I was freezing, thus the shivers. It’s a natural reaction when chilled.”

      “Are you cold now?”

      “No, this room is heated. It’s quite nice in here.”

      One of his black brows lifted ever so slightly but he didn’t speak, and her stomach did a nervous flip-flop.

      He was toying with her deliberately. She was certain he wanted to make her uneasy. But why? Did he think she’d collapse into tears? She didn’t like the silence but it was preferable to being held and touched. She had an excellent head for business and had proven herself remarkably good at establishing and maintaining professional relationships, but personal relationships, those were problematic.

      She hadn’t dated enough when she was younger. Although it’d be tempting to blame the opposite sex for failing to notice her, it wasn’t entirely true. She lacked confidence and had failed to put herself out there. Dating seemed to require too much energy and effort, with too many ups and downs to make the dashed dreams and rejection worthwhile.

      Instead she focused on work, pouring herself into the job, earning promotions and bonuses as well as praise from senior management. While other young women her age were busy falling in love and needing time off for romantic weekends and holidays, she closed deals and made AeroDynamics money and found tremendous satisfaction in being the one everyone could count on for being there and doing what needed to be done.

      Which was all very good and well at the corporate office, but sitting here in this enormous room, facing a tall, handsome, charismatic Italian, she was secretly terrified. She could sell a man a thirty-million-dollar airplane, but she fell apart when kissed, especially if the kiss was dark and sexual, destroying all rational thought.