Sleeping With The Enemy. Annie West

Tina.”

      She swallowed. “Time for what?”

      He flicked his fingers against his jeans, as if removing a speck of dirt. “Time to choose.”

      Her heart skipped. “Who was the woman on the phone?” she asked, fresh anger surging in her veins.

      His eyes darkened. She didn’t think he would answer. But he surprised her.

      “My mother. We were arguing.”

      Tina ducked her head and studied her clasped hands. So much rage in so few words. She felt as if she’d invaded his privacy somehow, yet she’d had to know the answer. As if it mattered when he compelled her to marry him with threats to her family.

      “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

      She could feel his gaze still on her, intense, steady, penetrating. “You heard me fight with a woman. You saw me ignore her calls. And I’ve asked you to marry me. You have every right to be curious, under the circumstances.”

      “Actually,” she said, her heart thudding as she lifted her gaze and met those storm-cloud eyes, “you didn’t ask me. You told me.”

      He was so beautiful sitting across from her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm hooked along the back of the big chair as he sprawled casually in it. He wore dark jeans and a white shirt, unbuttoned to show a perfect V of tanned skin that she could remember kissing—innocently at first, reverently later.

      He arched an eyebrow as he studied her. She knew her color was high and wondered what he must be thinking. As if it mattered. As if anything but what he demanded of her mattered.

      He ran his fingers along the arm of the chair in an absent gesture. “What is the difference? The outcome will be the same.”

      Her temper flared. “A woman wants to be asked, Nico. It’s part of the fantasy.”

      “Does this mean you’ve come to your senses?”

      Her breath caught, her blood pounding in her temples, her ears. Come to her senses? She felt as though she’d lost them two months ago.

      “Promise you won’t harm my family or D’Angeli Motors.” She said it firmly, her heart racing recklessly fast. It wasn’t like her to be so bold, and yet she’d been bolder in the past twenty-four hours with him than she’d ever been in her life. Oh, she was assertive enough usually, having learned to come out of her shell after years of schooling, but not confrontational. She’d been taught to be polite, gracious and ladylike—skills that were somehow lacking when she faced Niccolo Gavretti.

      One corner of his mouth turned up. It could not be called a smile. “So long as Renzo leaves me alone, then I will do the same.”

      Tina closed her eyes, her entire body quivering with fear and anticipation all at once. Was she really going to do this?

      Of course she was. What choice did she have? She wouldn’t let her family suffer. Nico was titled, wealthy and no doubt in possession of far more power now that he’d inherited his father’s estate. Renzo would be no match for him. And she would not let that happen.

      “Then you should ask me,” she said. “It would be the proper thing to do.”

      She didn’t expect him to do what he did next. He rose from the chair in a graceful movement. And then he was at her side, sinking onto a knee on the gray stone cobbles in front of the couch. His palm came up, cupped her cheek, while his other hand took one of hers and brought it to his heart. It was a grand gesture, even if it was false.

      Tina turned her cheek into his palm, though she did not mean to do so. But it was such a tender touch, and she’d ached to feel it for so long. For nearly two months. It stunned her to discover that she’d missed him, missed the aching rightness of his skin against hers.

      Oh, she was in so much trouble here.

      “Valentina D’Angeli,” he said, his fingers suddenly stroking down, along the column of her neck, making her shiver with longing. “Will you be my wife?”

      Tina darted her tongue over her lips. She was insane, insane—insane—for even considering this. But he was right; she had no choice.

      It was the correct thing to do. For her family. For her baby.

      “Yes,” she whispered, her throat constricting on the word. “Yes.”

       Chapter Seven

      TINA closed her eyes as his head descended, anticipating his kiss. Longing for it. It had been so long since she’d felt the hot press of his mouth against hers and she was surprised at how much she wanted it. Oh, it was wrong, but she wanted it.

      For all her breathless anticipation, however, he did not kiss her. Or, he did kiss her, but not the way she wanted. His lips feathered along her cheek before he tilted her head down and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

      Disappointment lanced into her as he stood and helped her to her feet.

      “There is much to do, tesoro,” he said. “You will need to pack an overnight bag.”

      Tina blinked in confusion. “An overnight bag? Why? Are we going somewhere?”

      He put his hands on her shoulders, skimmed them down her bare arms. His touch left her glowing and hot, like burning embers on a cool spring night. “We are going to Gibraltar,” he told her.

      Tina’s heart plummeted. “Gibraltar?”

      He frowned, but it wasn’t unfriendly. “You know why couples go to Gibraltar, Tina. You cannot be that sheltered.”

      She shook her head as a tide of apprehension began to bubble to life inside her. “I do know why. But why must we? I had thought—”

      His pitying look told her he knew exactly what she’d thought. That they would have a normal, though perhaps hurried, wedding. That she would spend the next month or so choosing a gown, flowers, a cake and a venue. That she would somehow persuade Renzo to put aside his dislike and give her away.

      She was exactly like other girls in that she’d always imagined she would have a fairy-tale wedding.

      But it was not to be. She’d done everything backward, and now this man she barely knew anymore, this man she’d agreed to marry, was taking her to Gibraltar for a quickie wedding. They would be married within twenty-four hours of their arrival on the rock. She would be Signora Gavretti—

      But no, she would be the marchesa di Casari.

      Tina’s knees melted like butter and she nearly sank onto the soft cushions again. Nico steadied her, his strong arms coming around her and pulling her close.

      “There is no need to wait,” he told her even as he held her against the heat and hardness of his body. “No need to prevaricate.”

      “But my family …”

      His eyes flashed hot. “I am your family now, Tina.”

      By nightfall, they were on his private jet, winging their way across the Mediterranean toward Gibraltar. Nico sat across from her, his laptop open, his gaze fixed on the screen, while Tina couldn’t seem to concentrate on the book she’d been trying to read. Her eReader sat on her lap, forgotten, as she stared at her own sad reflection in the jet’s window.

      Her life had changed so fast. Two months ago, she’d been looking forward to a masquerade party with Lucia. Everything she’d thought about her life up to that point had been blasted apart in the space of one night, though she had not known how completely it would change her at the time.

      Just a little fun, she’d thought. The chance to be someone different, someone more free and spontaneous. Someone brave and bold and in control.

      Ha.