Modern Romance April 2017 Books 1-4. Annie West

so, she wished that like a difficult piece of technology Rio came with a useful book of instructions because she didn’t know how she was supposed to calm him down when she wasn’t in a position to give him the explanation he so plainly wanted.

      ‘The raised voice is getting really old,’ Ellie told him drily instead.

      Dark colour scored his razor-sharp cheekbones. ‘Come inside—’

      ‘Said the kidnapper to his victim,’ Ellie added.

      Rio swore in a flood of Italian.

      ‘Yes, I give as good as I get,’ Ellie pointed out, moving out of the sunshine into the shadow of the building because calling Rio’s bluff was one thing, but baking alive while doing it would be foolish.

      ‘I brought you to my home because I desired privacy in which to speak to you,’ Rio framed with obvious difficulty in being that polite.

      Ellie pondered her options, which were few. She had neither her phone nor any money on her person. Rio had stranded her in the Tuscan countryside. ‘I’ll come inside but there will be no more shouting and you will not put your hands on me again,’ she warned him.

      ‘I can’t promise that I won’t shout because I am very angry with you,’ Rio admitted in a low-pitched growl as he watched her move towards him, her skirt fluttering above her slender knees, making him very aware of the long shapely legs beneath. His gaze filtered involuntarily upward, lingering on the soft fullness of her pink lips, and shifted with a jerk as she moved, the luscious sway of her full breasts below her top making his mouth run dry. ‘And I wouldn’t promise to keep my hands off you because I’m not sure I could ever deliver on that one, principessa.’

      That honest response and possibly the reuse of that mocking label worked for Ellie and released a little of her nervous tension. In fact, she went pink while inwardly admitting that she wasn’t that much better at keeping her hands off him, regardless of whether she was slapping him or kissing him. Rio awakened very strong reactions inside her. The usual barriers that she employed to keep a careful distance from people were shockingly absent with Rio Benedetti and that awareness rattled her nerves.

      Ellie followed Rio into a cool, tiled hallway that was strikingly contemporary and into a vast reception room furnished with pale leather sofas and several dramatic modern paintings. The gorgeous house might be ancient but the cool interior decor and modern furnishings were in stark contrast.

      Rio spun round to face her again, a dark shadow of stubble accentuating his beautifully shaped mouth and the raw tension etched in the hard line of his lips. And she found herself wondering for the first time if he was ever gentle or tender, traits that seemed far removed from his aggressive, competitive nature. And did it even matter, another voice mocked, when he looked the way he did? That mocking inner voice shocked her because it steamrollered over everything she believed she knew about herself, for since when had she been impressed by appearances? Yet when she looked at Rio, everything sane and sensible vanished from her brain as if it had been wiped. And then there was only room for glorying in his tempestuous male magnificence, room to marvel at the precise arrangement of his lean, darkly charismatic features and the stunning clarity of his smouldering golden eyes. She sucked in a startled breath to fill her deprived lungs.

      ‘All I’m asking you to do is come clean with me,’ Rio murmured lightly, as though what he was asking should be easy for her to do. ‘Tell me what’s going on...’

      Ellie’s slim figure tensed. ‘It’s not that simple, Rio.’

      An ebony brow quirked in disagreement. ‘It is a very simple matter that you are making difficult out of sheer stubbornness.’

      ‘No, it is a private matter between Beppe and me,’ she countered. ‘Ask him to explain things.’

      His intent gaze narrowed. ‘You must know that I will not do anything more to upset him.’

      ‘And I will not break his confidence without his permission, so we’re at an impasse—’

      ‘Have some wine,’ Rio suggested wryly, strolling over to the drinks cabinet and giving her a choice.

      ‘Rosé, but it won’t loosen my tongue,’ she warned him doggedly, but the extreme tension in her knees holding her stiff gave way a tad, reminding her that her meeting with Beppe and the walk had exhausted her.

      ‘Help me out here... I am trying to be civilised,’ Rio informed her.

      ‘There was nothing civilised about the way you stuffed me in your car,’ Ellie reminded him drily as she settled down on a sofa.

      ‘Per l’amor di Dio, I never said I was perfect, principessa.’

      ‘Why do you call me that?’ she demanded abruptly as he settled a moisture-beaded wine glass into her hand, momentarily standing so close to her that the scent of him assailed her: hot, musky male laced with a hint of spicy cologne. A very faint shiver ricocheted through her.

      Rio grinned and it was an unexpectedly boyish grin of keen amusement. ‘Because the way you walk with your little superior nose in the air gives you that look. You remind me of the rich girls I used to watch when I was a penniless teenager. Oh, they looked at me, but they wouldn’t have dirtied their lily-white hands by touching me.’

      ‘I was never a rich girl,’ Ellie parried uncomfortably, studying him with grass-green eyes that were luminous in the filtered sunshine and alive with curiosity. ‘I grew up in my grandmother’s working-class home and there were no airs or graces there.’

      ‘Cio nonostante... Nonetheless you ooze that rich-girl quality of disdain,’ Rio told her with assurance. ‘And it sets my teeth on edge—’

      ‘Everything about me sets your teeth on edge,’ Ellie pointed out wryly while she wondered about his background, because she was surprised that he had ever been penniless and on the outside looking in at the more prosperous. ‘We annoy each other.’

      ‘Beppe,’ he reminded her darkly. ‘Talk.’

      In a sudden movement, Ellie stood up again because he was making her feel trapped. She understood exactly where he was coming from but she couldn’t answer his questions. His godfather could have enlightened him and had chosen not to. Beppe’s silence spoke for him. Clearly he had no desire to admit to Rio that he had had an extramarital affair or that that liaison could have led to the conception of a child.

      ‘I don’t back down, Ellie,’ Rio murmured from close by and every skin cell in her body jumped at the knock-on effect of that deep accented drawl of his, goosebumps rising on her bare arms. ‘I won’t let you go until you fill in the blanks—’

      ‘Well, then, you’re going to be stuck with me!’ Ellie exclaimed in growing frustration. ‘Because I’m not going to talk—’

      Rio removed the glass from her fingers and set it aside. ‘Maybe talking’s a total waste of time for us, principessa.’

      ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ Ellie demanded thinly even though she had a very good idea.

      Rio scored a light forefinger across her compressed lower lip. ‘You’re pushing it defying me. I don’t have your patience—’

      Ellie threw her head back, corkscrew curls tumbling across her pale brow, green eyes sharp with frustration and defensiveness. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she warned him curtly.

      ‘No, not a shred of patience,’ Rio asserted with hypnotic quietness, reaching for her with scorching dark golden eyes of sensual threat.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘I CAME INTO this house with you because I trusted you,’ Ellie declared starkly, twisting away.

      ‘No, you don’t. You don’t trust me,’ Rio assured her with grim amusement. ‘You most probably came into the house because you don’t like arguments in public