Her Exquisite Surrender: Surrendering All But Her Heart / Innocent in the Ivory Tower / Full Surrender

But she had not.

‘Careful, Angelo,’ she said. ‘Your double standards are showing.’

His jaw tensed as he held her look. ‘How long did you date the guy you replaced me with?’ he asked.

‘Not long,’ she said.

‘How long?’

‘Is this really necessary?’ she asked.

‘I want to know.’

‘We went out for a couple of weeks,’ she said.

‘Who broke it off?’

Natalie found his intent look unsettling. ‘I did,’ she said.

‘So who have you dated since?’

‘No one you would know,’ she said. ‘I try to keep my private life out of the papers.’

‘Well done, you,’ he said. ‘I try to, but it’s amazing how people find out stuff.’

‘How do you stand it?’ she asked.

He gave a little shrug. ‘I’m used to it,’ he said. ‘My family’s wealth has always kept us in the spotlight. The only time it cooled off a bit was when I came to study in London. I enjoyed being anonymous—not that it lasted long.’

‘You lied to me.’

‘I didn’t lie to you,’ he said. ‘I just didn’t tell you I came from such a wealthy family. It was important for me to make it on my own. I didn’t want my father’s name opening any doors for me.’

‘You’ve certainly made a name for yourself in your own right,’ Natalie said. ‘You have twice the wealth of your father, or so I’ve heard.’

‘For someone who says they have no interest in what I do or who I see, you certainly know a lot about me,’ he said with a sardonic smile.

She ignored his comment and picked up her glass again, took a sip. ‘What have you told your family about me?’ she asked.

‘A version of the truth,’ he said.

Natalie’s eyes came back to his. ‘The truth about you hating me and wanting revenge?’ she asked with an arch look.

His dark brown eyes gleamed. ‘I could hardly tell my parents I hate you, now, could I?’

‘What did you tell them?’

His eyes kept on holding hers. ‘I told them I had never stopped loving you,’ he said.

She moistened her lips. ‘And they … believed you?’

‘They seemed to,’ he said. ‘Although the real test will be when they see us together. My mother, in particular, is a hard person to fool. You’ll have to be on your toes with her.’

Natalie felt her insides quake at the thought of interacting with his parents and other members of his family. How would she do it? How would she play the role of a happy bride without revealing the truth of how things were between them? How long before someone guessed? How long before it was splashed all over the newspapers?

‘Why do we have to get married?’ she asked. ‘Why couldn’t we just have an … an affair?’

Those unfathomable brown eyes measured hers. ‘Is that what you want?’ he asked. ‘An affair?’

She ran her tongue over her lips again. ‘No more than I want to marry you. I was just making a point,’ she said. ‘It seems a bit over the top to go to all the trouble of getting married when ultimately we know it’s going to end in divorce.’

‘You seem very sure it will end in divorce,’ he said.

Natalie’s heart fluttered like fast moving wings against her breastbone. ‘You can’t want to be tied to me indefinitely?’

His eyes moved over her leisurely. ‘Who knows? You might like being married to me,’ he said. ‘There will be numerous benefits to wearing my ring and bearing my name.’

She sat up like a puppet suddenly jerked backwards. ‘I don’t want your name,’ she said. ‘I’m perfectly happy with my own.’

A steely glint came into his eyes. ‘You will take my name,’ he said. ‘And you will be proud of it.’

She glowered at him, her whole body trembling with anger. ‘I will not change my name.’

Angelo’s eyes warred with hers. ‘You will do what I tell you to do,’ he said, his voice low but no less forceful.

Natalie stood up so abruptly her chair knocked against the one behind it. Every eye turned to look at her but she was beyond caring. She tossed her napkin down on the table and scooped her purse up with the other.

‘Find yourself another wife,’ she said, and stormed out.

A camera went off in her face as soon as she stepped outside the restaurant.

‘Miss Armitage?’ A journalist pushed a microphone close. ‘Can we have an exclusive on your current relationship with Angelo Bellandini?’

Natalie tried to avoid the reporter, but another member of the paparazzi cut her off as she tried to escape.

‘We notice you’re not wearing an engagement ring,’ he said. ‘Does that mean the wedding’s off?’

‘I …’

Angelo’s arm came around her protectively and he gently led her away from the throng. ‘Please give my fiancée some space,’ he said.

‘Mr Bellandini, do you have a comment to make on your engagement to Miss Armitage?’ the first journalist asked.

Angelo’s arm tightened around her waist a fraction. ‘The wedding is going ahead as planned,’ he said. ‘I have an engagement ring already picked out for Natalie. I am giving it to her tonight when we get home. Now, please leave us to celebrate our engagement in privacy.’

Natalie was ushered to Angelo’s car without further intrusion from the press. She sat back in her seat, her fingers white-knuckled around her purse.

‘Don’t ever do that again,’ Angelo said as he fired the engine.

She threw him a cutting glance. ‘I am not going to be ordered around by you.’

His hands gripped the steering wheel as tightly as she was clutching her purse. His knuckles looked as if they were going to burst through the skin.

‘I will not tolerate you flouncing out on me like a spoilt child,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Do you have no sense of propriety? You do realise that little scene will be all over the papers tomorrow? What were you thinking?’

Natalie gave her head a toss. ‘I’m not going to be bullied into changing my name.’

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘It’s obviously a sore point with you. I’m prepared to compromise. I should’ve realised how important it was to you. It’s your trademark.’ He paused for a beat. ‘I’m sorry.’

She slowly loosened her grip on her purse. ‘Are the press always that intrusive?’ she asked.

He let out a breath in a sigh. ‘I hardly notice it any more,’ he said. ‘But, yes, they are. It won’t last for ever. They’ll lose interest once we’re married.’

Natalie frowned as she looked at him. ‘I hope people don’t think I’m marrying you for your money.’

His lips lifted in the slightest of smiles. ‘No, cara, they’ll think it’s my body you are after.’

She turned away to stare at the passing scenery, her lower body flickering with a pulse she had thought long ago quelled. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you, Angelo,’ she said.

‘Are you saying that to convince me or yourself?’ he asked.

Natalie couldn’t have answered either way, so she changed the subject. ‘Have you really got an engagement ring?’ she asked.

‘I have.’

‘Do you not think I might have liked to choose it for myself?’

He threw her an exasperated look. ‘In my family it’s traditional for the man to choose the engagement ring,’ he said.

She toyed with the catch on her purse for a moment or two. ‘It’s not the same one you bought five years ago, is it?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said.

She sneaked a glance at him but his expression was inscrutable. ‘Did you give it to someone else?’ she asked. ‘As a present or something?’

He brought the car to a standstill outside her house before he answered. ‘I donated it to a charity for their silent auction,’ he said. ‘There’s some lucky girl out there now wearing a ring that cost more than most people’s houses.’

Natalie chewed at the inside of her mouth. ‘I never asked you to spend that amount of money on me.’

His swung his gaze to hers. ‘No, you didn’t, did you?’ he said. ‘But then it wasn’t money you wanted from me, was it?’

She couldn’t hold his look. ‘I’ve seen what money can do to people,’ she said. ‘It changes them, and not always for the good.’

She felt his gaze studying her for endless seconds. ‘What have you told your parents about us?’ he asked.

She pressed her lips together. ‘Not much.’

‘How much?’

She looked at him again. ‘It was my mother’s idea for me to come and see you,’ she said. ‘I only did it for her sake.’

‘And Lachlan’s, presumably?’

Her eyes fell away from his. ‘Yes …’

The silence stretched interminably.

‘Are you going to ask me in?’ he asked.

She gave him a pert look. ‘Are you going to come in even if I don’t?’

He brushed an idle finger down the curve of her cheek, his eyes focussed on her mouth, his lips curved upwards in a half-smile. ‘If you don’t want me then all you have to do is say so.’

I do want you.

The words were like drumbeats inside her head.

I want you. I want you. I want you.

She locked out that traitorous voice and pasted an indifferent look on her face. ‘Are you staying in town overnight?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I was hoping you’d offer me a bed for the night.’

Natalie felt her heart give a hard, sharp kick. ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because … Because …’

‘The press will think it odd if I don’t stay with you,’ he said, before she could think of an excuse. ‘I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but a car followed us back here. It’s parked behind the red car.’

She checked in the side mirror. There was a man sitting behind the wheel with a camera’s telephoto lens trained in their direction. Panic gripped her by the throat. Was this how it was going to be? Would she be hounded like a terrified fox with nowhere to hide?

Angelo opened his door and came around to where she was sitting, frozen in dread.

‘He’ll move on once we’re inside,’ he said. ‘Just try to act naturally.’

Natalie got out of the car and allowed him to take her hand. She felt the strong grip of his fingers as they curled around hers. It was the same feeling she’d had when he had put his arm around her waist earlier.

She felt protected.

‘Give me your keys,’ he said.

She handed them over. ‘It’s the big brass one,’ she said.

He unlocked the door and held it open for her to pass through. ‘How long have you lived here?’ he asked as he closed the door.

‘Three and a half years.’

‘Why Scotland? I thought you said you grew up in Gloucestershire?’

‘My mother is a Scot,’ she said. ‘She grew up in the seaside village of Crail in Fife. I spent a lot of holidays there with my grandparents when I was young.’

‘You didn’t tell me that before.’

She gave a shrug as she placed her purse on the hall table. ‘It didn’t seem important.’

‘What else didn’t you tell me that didn’t seem important?’

Natalie turned away from his probing look. ‘Do you want a drink or something?’

He stalled her by placing a hand on her arm. ‘Tatty?’

She looked down at his hand. How dark and masculine it looked against her paler skin. It dredged up memories she didn’t want to resurface. She felt the rumble of them like tectonic plates rubbing against each other. An earthquake of sensation threatened to spill out like lava. She felt the heat of it bubbling like a furnace inside her.

‘I asked you not to call me that,’ she said.

His hand moved along her arm in a gentle caress. ‘I don’t always do what I’m told,’ he said. ‘I like bending the rules to suit me.’

Natalie tried to pull away but his fingers subtly tightened. She met his gaze—so dark and mesmerising—so in control. He knew he had her where he wanted her. She was at his mercy. Lachlan’s freedom and future depended on her. Angelo knew she would not do anything to jeopardise it. Her little temper tantrum back at the restaurant had achieved nothing. He would always come after her and remind her of what was at stake.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘You must know how it’s going to end.’

His hooded gaze drifted to her mouth. ‘I don’t care how it ends,’ he said. ‘This is about the here and now.’

She looked at his mouth. Oh, how she wanted to feel those firm lips move against hers! She remembered the heat; she remembered the blistering passion that burned like a taper all over her flesh. She remembered the sexy thrust of his tongue as it came in search of hers.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the breeze of his breath skate over her lips. He lowered his mouth to just above hers. She swept her tongue over her lips, wanting him, aching for him to make the first move.

‘Go on,’ he said, in a low, husky, spine-melting tone. ‘I know you want to.’

Natalie’s stomach shifted like a speeding skater suddenly facing a sheet of broken ice. Could he read her so well even after all this time? She fought for composure, for self-control, for anything.

‘You’re mistaken,’ she said coolly. ‘I don’t want any such thing.’

He brushed a finger over her tingling bottom lip. ‘Liar.’

It took all of her resolve and then some to step back, but somehow she did it. She moved to the other side of the room, barricading herself behind one of the sofas set in the middle of the room. ‘I think you should leave,’ she said.

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Because you don’t trust yourself around me?’

She sent him an arctic look. ‘I’m not going to be a slave to your desires.’

‘Is that what you think you’ll be?’ he asked. ‘What about your own desires? You have them. You can deny them all you like but they’re still there. I can feel it when I touch you.’

‘What we had five years ago is gone,’ Natalie said. ‘You can’t make it come back just to suit you.’

‘It never went away,’ he said. ‘You wanted it to, but it didn’t. You were scared of the next step, weren’t you? You were scared of the commitment of marriage. You’re still scared. What I’d like to know is why.’

‘Get out.’

‘I’m not going until I give you this.’ He took a jeweller’s box from inside his jacket pocket. But rather than come over to her he simply set it down on the coffee table. It reminded her of a gauntlet being laid down between two opponents.

‘I’ll have a car sent to collect you on Tuesday,’ he said. ‘Pack enough clothes for a week. We’ll be expected to go on a honeymoon. If you e-mail me a list of the people you wish to invite to the ceremony I’ll have my secretary deal with it.’

‘What do you want me to wear?’ she asked. ‘Sackcloth and ashes?’

‘You can wear what you like,’ he said. ‘It makes no difference to me. But do keep in mind that there will be photographers everywhere.’

‘Do you really expect me to pack up my life here and follow you about the globe like some lovesick little fool?’ she asked.

‘We will divide our time between your place and mine,’ he said. ‘I’m based in London, but I plan to spend a bit of time in Sorrento until the development is near completion. I’m prepared to be flexible. I understand you have a business to run.’

She gave him a petulant look. ‘What if I don’t want you to share my house?’

‘Get used to it, Natalie. I will share your house and a whole lot more before the ink is dry on our marriage certificate.’ He went to the door. ‘I’ll see you on Tuesday.’

Natalie didn’t touch the jeweller’s box until he had left. She stood looking at it for a long time before she picked it up and opened it. Inside was an art deco design triple diamond ring. It was stunningly beautiful. She took it out of its velvet home and slipped it on her finger. She couldn’t have chosen better herself. It was neither too loose nor too tight—a perfect ring for an imperfect relationship.

She wondered how long it would be before she would be giving it back.

CHAPTER FOUR

NATALIE was in a state of high anxiety by the time Tuesday came around.

She hadn’t eaten for three days. She had barely slept. She had been dry retching at the thought of getting on a plane to Italy.

Angelo had called her each day, but she hadn’t revealed anything of what she was going through. He had assured her Lachlan was out of harm’s way. Her parents had called too, and expressed their satisfaction with the way things had turned out. Her father was greatly relieved that the family name hadn’t been sullied by Lachlan’s antics. Angelo had miraculously made the nasty little episode disappear, for which Adrian Armitage was immensely grateful. He’d made no mention of Natalie’s role in fixing things. She had expected no less from him, given he had never shown an interest in her welfare, but she was particularly annoyed with her mother, who hadn’t even asked her how she felt about marrying Angelo. But then Isla had married Natalie’s father for money and prestige. Love hadn’t come into it at all.

She felt annoyed too at having to lie to her friends—in particular Isabel. But strangely enough Isabel had accepted the news of her marriage with barely a blink of an eye. Her friend had said how she had always thought Natalie had unresolved feelings for Angelo since she hadn’t dated all that seriously since. She thought Natalie’s aversion to marriage and commitment had stemmed from her break up with Angelo. Natalie hadn’t had the heart to put Isabel straight. As close as she was to her, she had never told Isabel about the circumstances surrounding Liam’s death.

Natalie heard a car pull up outside her house. Her stomach did another somersault and a clammy sweat broke out over her brow. She walked to the door on legs that felt like wet cotton wool. It wasn’t a uniformed driver standing there but Angelo himself.

‘I … I just have to get my bag …’ she said, brushing a loose strand of sticky hair back behind her ear.

Angelo narrowed his gaze. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, averting her eyes.

He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to look at him. ‘You’re deathly pale,’ he said. ‘Are you ill?’

Natalie swallowed the gnarly knot of panic in her throat. ‘I have some pills to take.’ She rummaged in her bag for the anxiety medication her doctor had prescribed. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

She went to the kitchen for a glass of water and Angelo followed her. He took the packet of pills from her and read the label. ‘Do you really need to take these?’ he asked.

‘Give them to me,’ she said, reaching for them. ‘I should’ve taken them an hour ago.’

He frowned as he handed them to her. ‘Do you take them regularly?’

She shook her head as she swallowed a couple of pills. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Only in an emergency.’

He was still frowning as he led her out to the car. ‘When did you develop your fear of flying?’ he asked.

‘Ages ago,’ she said.

‘What caused it?’ he asked. ‘Rough turbulence or a mid-air incident?’

She shrugged. ‘Can’t remember.’

His dark gaze searched hers. ‘When was the last time you flew?’

‘Can we get going?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to fall asleep in the car. You’ll have to carry me on board.’

Angelo glanced at Natalie every now and again as he drove to the airport. She was not quite so pale now the medication had settled her nerves, but she still looked fragile. Her cheeks looked hollow, as if she had recently lost weight, and her eyes were shadowed.

Her concern over her brother was well founded. He had struck a deal with Lachlan, but already Lachlan was pushing against the boundaries Angelo had set in place. The staff at a very expensive private rehab clinic had called him three times in the last week to inform him about Lachlan’s erratic and at times uncontrollable behaviour. He had organised a therapist to have extra sessions with him, but so far there had been no miraculous breakthrough. It seemed Lachlan Armitage was a very angry young man, hell-bent on self-destruction.

Speaking with Natalie’s father had made Angelo realise how frustrating it must be to have a child who, no matter how much you loved and provided for him, refused to co-operate. Adrian Armitage had hinted at similar trouble with Natalie. Apparently her stubborn streak had caused many a scene in the Armitage household over the years. In spite of all of her father’s efforts to get close to her she had wilfully defied him whenever she could. Angelo wondered if it was a cultural thing. He had been brought up strictly, but fairly. His parents had commanded respect, but they had more than earned it with their dedication and love for him. He hoped to do the same for his own children one day.

He turned off the engine once he had parked and gently touched Natalie on the shoulder. ‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said. ‘Time to get going.’

She blinked and sat up straighter. ‘Oh … Right …’

He put an arm around her waist as he led her on board his private jet a short time later. She was agitated and edgy, but he managed to get her to take a seat and put the belt on.

‘Can I have a drink?’ she asked.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘What would you like?’

‘White wine,’ she said.

‘Are you sure it’s a good idea to combine alcohol with those pills?’ he asked.

She gave him a surly look. ‘I’m not a child.’

‘No, but you’re under my protection,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you getting ill, or losing consciousness or something.’

She started chewing her nails as the pilot pulled back. Angelo took her hand away from her mouth and covered it with his. ‘You’ll be fine, cara,’ he said. ‘You were in far more danger driving to the airport than you ever will be in the air.’

She shifted restively, her eyes darting about like a spooked thoroughbred’s. ‘I want to get off,’ she said. ‘Please—can you tell the pilot to stop? I want to get off.’

Angelo put his arm around her and brought her close against him. ‘Shh, mia piccola,’ he soothed. ‘Concentrate on your breathing. In and out. In and out. That’s right. Nice and slow.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head to his chest. He stroked the silk of her hair, talking to her in the same calm voice. It took a lot longer than he expected but finally she relaxed against him. She slept for most of the journey and only woke up just as they were coming to land in Rome.

‘There,’ he said. ‘You did it. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

She nodded vaguely and brushed the hair back off her face. ‘Have I got time to use the bathroom?’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

Her cheeks pooled with colour. ‘No, thank you.’

He gave her a mocking smile. ‘Maybe next time, si?’

The press had obviously been given a tip-off somewhere between their arrival at the airport and Angelo’s family villa in Rome. Natalie watched in dismay as photographers surged towards Angelo’s chauffeur-driven car.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said as he helped her out of the car. ‘I’ll handle their questions.’

Within a few moments Angelo had managed to satisfy the press’s interest and sent them on their way.

An older man opened the front door of the villa and greeted Angelo. ‘Your parents are in the salon, Signor Bellandini.’

‘Grazie, Pasquale,’ he said. ‘Natalie, this is Pasquale. He has been working for my family for many years.’

‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Natalie said.

‘Welcome,’ Pasquale said. ‘It is very nice to see Signor Bellandini happy at last.’

‘Come,’ Angelo said, guiding her with a hand resting in the curve of her back. ‘My parents will be keen to meet you.’

If they were so keen, why hadn’t they been at the door to greet her instead of the elderly servant? Natalie thought bitterly to herself. But clearly there was a different protocol in the upper classes of Italian society. And Sandro and Francesca Bellandini were nothing if not from the very top shelf of the upper class.

Natalie could see where Angelo got his height and looks from as soon as she set eyes on his father. While an inch or two shorter than his son, Sandro had the same dark brown eyes and lean, rangy build. His hair was still thick and curly but it was liberally streaked with grey, giving him a distinguished air that was as compelling as it was intimidating.