Bound To The Billionaire

‘No way am I going to sleep with you,’ she said jerkily. ‘Was that why you wanted me to drink brandy—to make me more amenable?’

‘Amenable!’ Drago gave a harsh laugh. ‘I swear you don’t know the meaning of the word.’

He did not know what angered him most—her accusation that he had planned to seduce her or the fear he glimpsed in her eyes. Dio, she made him feel like a monster, when in fact he’d had the patience of a saint tonight.

‘For your information, I have never had to get a woman drunk to persuade her to sleep with me.’

His gaze narrowed on her flushed face. She looked a whole lot better than she had when he had pulled her from the canal: no longer a drowned rat but a red-haired sexpot with her soft lips slightly parted and the swift rise and fall of her breasts betraying her agitation. But it was not fear that made the pulse at the base of her neck beat erratically—he knew women too well, and he recognised the subtle signals her body was sending him.

‘I would not need to ply you with alcohol to get you into bed, would I, cara?’ he taunted softly. ‘From your response when I kissed you earlier I got the impression that I could take you any time I liked.’ Ignoring her fierce denial, he continued ruthlessly, ‘But someone with a conviction for fraud is not my ideal mistress. I have no intention of sharing a bed with you. The only reason I suggested you should sleep here is because you stripped the sheets from your bed to use in your juvenile escape attempt, and I’m not going to disturb the housemaid and ask her to prepare another bed for you. I’ll sleep in my dressing room for what’s left of tonight.’

As he strode past Jess on his way to his dressing room her dumbstruck expression awarded Drago some satisfaction. She was the craziest, most irritating woman he had ever met, he assured himself. But when he stretched out on the sofa bed sleep eluded him despite his tiredness, and his body ached with sexual frustration as he remembered how soft her lips had felt beneath his.

The sound of someone calling her name dragged Jess from a deep sleep, and she was vaguely aware of something lightly brushing her face. She blinked blearily as Drago’s hard-boned face filled her vision, and she was instantly awake and acutely aware of him.

God, he was gorgeous, she thought ruefully. His casual clothes of yesterday had been replaced with a dark suit and crisp white shirt that contrasted starkly with his olive-toned skin. He had evidently shaved, for his jaw was smooth and she inhaled the subtle scent of sandalwood cologne.

His sensual mouth was unsmiling, and as her memory of all the previous day’s events returned a sense of dread gripped her. ‘Is there any news about Angelo?’

‘His condition is unchanged,’ he informed her in a clipped tone. ‘When you’ve got up and had something to eat we’ll go to the hospital. I still believe you are the best hope of rousing him.’

With an effort Drago moved away from the bed before he gave in to temptation and joined Jess between the sheets. She reminded him of a sleepy kitten, curled up beneath the covers, her tawny hair spread across the pillows and her cat-like green eyes watching him from beneath long silky lashes.

He had woken earlier, feeling better for a few hours’ uninterrupted sleep, and more in control of himself. He’d hardly been able to believe that he had allowed a skinny redhead with an attitude problem to provoke him into losing his cool. But when he had leaned across the bed, intending to wake Jess, he had been riveted by her beautiful face. Unable to resist, he had run his finger lightly down her sleep-flushed cheek and discovered that her skin was as velvet-soft as a peach. Her lips had been slightly parted, and he’d felt a fierce longing to cover them with his own.

Cursing silently, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains to allow the bright April sunshine to flood the room. ‘From now on you will sleep in the bedroom adjacent to mine. It does not have a balcony, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to try another escape trick,’ he said sardonically. ‘I have also arranged for some clothes to be delivered for you as yours are at the bottom of the canal.’

Jess decided not to point out that she considered it entirely his fault she had lost all her belongings. He had not mentioned his threat of the previous night to hand her over to the police and she deemed it better not to antagonise him. Once Angelo had regained consciousness and explained that he had not given her his inheritance money Drago would owe her a grovelling apology, but for now, bearing in mind that she did not have a passport, she realised she had no choice but to remain in Venice with him.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘If you give me the bill for the clothes I will, of course, pay you what I owe.’

She sounded genuine, and she looked so goddamned innocent. Drago’s eyes narrowed. Were his suspicions about her wrong? How could they be when the evidence was stacked against her? Angelo had told Aunt Dorotea he had given Jess his inheritance fund, and the private investigator had confirmed that she had a criminal record for fraud. She might look as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but he was not fooled by her, he assured himself.

‘It isn’t necessary for you to pay for them. The clothes belong to me.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Well, either I’m going to look pretty silly, wearing clothes designed for a six-foot man, or you’re a cross-dresser.’

For a few seconds Drago could think of nothing to say in response to her startling statement, but then his lips twitched and he threw back his head and laughed. ‘I promise you I don’t have a penchant for dressing up in women’s clothes and stiletto heels.’

He watched Jess’s mouth curve into a smile and realised she had been teasing him. It was a novelty. He was not used to women with a sense of humour; most of the women he knew took themselves far too seriously. It felt strange to laugh, he mused. Even before Angelo’s accident there had rarely seemed anything to laugh about recently. The responsibility of running a business empire and taking care of his family weighed heavily on him. Although he made time to play squash and work out in his private gym, and he enjoyed an active sex life with numerous mistresses, his life was dictated by work and duty and he could not remember the last time anyone had made him smile.

‘The clothes are from the Cassa di Cassari collection,’ he explained. ‘Clothing is a new venture that the company is expanding into, and we have employed the top Italian fashion designer Torre Umberto. The new line won’t be available in the shops until next month, but Torre has sent some samples over for you to wear.’

His phone rang, breaking the curious connection he had briefly felt with Jess. He headed a global business empire which demanded his constant attention. He was distracted enough, worrying about his cousin, and he definitely did not have time to be distracted by a sassy redhead whose sweet smile made his guts ache, Drago reminded himself.

‘When you’re ready, the maid will show you the way to the dining room,’ he told her abruptly before he headed out of the door.

They had been at the hospital for hours, but still Angelo showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Jess stood up from her chair next to the bed, needing to stretch her legs. The small room felt claustrophobic, and although the blind at the window was pulled down the bright sunshine beating against the glass increased the stifling atmosphere.

As she walked over to the water dispenser and filled a plastic cup she was aware of two pairs of eyes following her. Angelo’s mother was no friendlier today than she had been last night and had not spoken a word to her. The poor woman was devastated, Jess reminded herself. But she also knew that the vibes of distrust from Drago’s aunt were due to her belief that Jess had conned her son out of his inheritance fund. When Angelo woke up he was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, she thought heavily.

Dorotea turned her attention back to her son, but Jess was conscious that Drago’s gaze was still focused on her, and she self-consciously ran a hand over the cream jersey-silk skirt that she had discovered, along with a selection of other outfits, in the wardrobe of her room at the Palazzo d’Inverno.

The last time she had worn a skirt had been years ago, on one of the rare occasions when she had attended school, she thought wryly. She lived in jeans or work overalls, and she felt overdressed in the skirt and the delicate white blouse she had teamed with it. The tan leather belt around her waist matched the three-inch stiletto-heeled shoes. The elegant outfit had called for her to try to tame her thick hair, and she had swept it up into a loose knot on top of her head.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror before she had left her bedroom, she had been stunned by the transformation. She had always thought of her body as shapeless and too thin, but the beautifully designed skirt suited her slim figure, and the blouse was cleverly cut so that her small bust looked fuller. For the first time in years—since she was seventeen, in fact, and had worn a new dress to go out to dinner with her boss, Sebastian Loxley—she felt like an attractive woman. The glitter of sexual awareness in Drago’s eyes when she had walked into the dining room at the palazzo had sent a thrill of feminine pride through her. He had not commented on her appearance, but she had been aware of him glancing at her several times as they had eaten breakfast—just as she was aware of him watching her now.

‘I need some air,’ he announced abruptly. The metal feet of his chair scraped loudly on the floor as he stood up. His eyes met Jess’s, but his expression was unreadable. ‘We’ll go and get a coffee. You need a break,’ he insisted when she opened her mouth to argue. ‘You have talked to Angelo and sung to him—’ he glanced briefly at the guitar standing by the bed ‘—almost constantly for four hours.’

‘I came to try to help,’ she replied huskily, feeling herself blush. She had sung a couple of pop ballads that Angelo had taught her to play on the guitar while Drago had gone to make a phone call, and she felt embarrassed that he must have been just outside the door and had heard her.

‘Hopefully he will regain consciousness soon, and if he does it will be no small thanks to you,’ Drago said roughly.

He could not help but be impressed by Jess’s efforts to rouse his cousin. She had barely moved from his bedside since they had arrived at the hospital that morning, and she had talked to him until her throat sounded dry. The question of whether they were lovers returned to taunt him. She had denied it, had said that they were simply friends, but she was so goddamned beautiful and it was easy to believe she had seduced shy, inexperienced Angelo with her sex-kitten sensuality and persuaded him to give her a fortune.

Drago’s jaw clenched. She had taken his breath away when she had joined him for breakfast at the palazzo that morning, dressed in clothes that had drawn his gaze to her slender but shapely figure. The scruffy tomboy had turned into an elegant woman, but beneath her new sophistication he recognised her inherently sensual nature, and his appetite for food had deserted him as he’d fantasised about having hot, hard sex with her on the dining table.

Frowning at the inappropriateness of his thoughts when his cousin was in a critical condition, Drago was unaware of how forbidding he looked as he escorted Jess to the hospital cafeteria. He ordered two coffees and carried them over to the empty table she had found.

She seemed distracted as she added three spoons of sugar to her coffee, prompting him to ask, ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I wish my phone wasn’t at the bottom of the canal,’ she said ruefully. ‘I’d like to call Mike, my foreman, to make sure the job we’ve been working on will be finished on time. Clients hate delays, and it’s important that the company maintains a good reputation.’ Jess pushed a stray tendril of hair back from her face. ‘Do the doctors have any idea of when Angelo might regain consciousness? I want to stay if it is deemed that hearing my voice might help rouse him, but I have a responsibility to my team of decorators in London. If I don’t finalise our next contract they won’t have any work.’

Drago sipped his unsweetened black coffee, relishing the hit of caffeine, and gave her a speculative look. ‘I understand that your decorating business was facing bankruptcy until a few months ago?’

‘How do you know that?’ Her startled expression turned to anger. ‘I suppose the investigator you hired to spy on me told you?’

He did not deny it. ‘I know you paid twenty thousand pounds into the company account to clear its debts and overdraft. I can’t help thinking how remarkably convenient it was that you suddenly acquired a large sum of money just in time to save the business from financial meltdown.’

As his meaning became clear, Jess felt sick. ‘If you think I got the money from Angelo, you’re wrong.’

‘So where did it come from? And perhaps you can also explain how you live in a luxury apartment with a rental value far higher than you could afford on a decorator’s wage.’

Jess was stunned at how much he knew about her personal life, and felt violated by the intrusion.

‘I don’t have to explain anything to you,’ she said angrily. ‘But as a matter of fact the money I used to bail out T&J Decorators was left to me.’

Drago looked disbelieving. ‘You’re saying you received an inheritance? Who from? You told me your alcoholic father spent all his money on drink.’

‘Yeah, he certainly never gave me anything—not even affection,’ Jess said bitterly. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like to be the only child in the class not to be dressed in clean clothes? Or the only one not to go on a school trip because your dad was too drunk to sign the permission form?’ She clamped her lips together, startled by her outburst. Her childhood was something she never spoke about. ‘Of course you don’t know. You were born into a wealthy, loving family.’

She swallowed. ‘I didn’t know what it felt like to be part of a family until I was seventeen, when I went to stay with a wonderful couple who had experience of helping troubled teenagers. Ted and Margaret changed my life in so many ways. Sadly they are both dead now, and six months ago I learned that I was a beneficiary in Margaret’s will.’

The raw emotion in Jess’s voice tugged on Drago’s insides. He was shocked by her revelations about her childhood and felt uncomfortable that his questioning of her had forced her to talk about a subject she clearly found painful. She could be making up a sob story to gain his sympathy, his mind pointed out. But the haunted expression in her eyes was too real to be an act.

‘As for how I afford to live in an expensive property,’ she continued, ‘I have an arrangement with a property developer who allows me to live in properties he owns rent-free. In return I carry out renovation work and decorate them to a high standard. As soon as the work is finished on the flat I’m currently living in I’ll move out, and the developer will lease it to paying tenants.’

Jess glared at Drago. ‘You are wrong about me,’ she said fiercely. ‘And when Angelo wakes up and tells you where his money is I’ll expect an apology from you.’

His coldly arrogant expression did not soften. ‘I’m not wrong about your criminal record. It is an undeniable fact that you were convicted of fraud, and in light of that I think my suspicion that you know what has happened to my cousin’s inheritance is understandable.’

‘I was seventeen, for God’s sake, and very naïve.’ Jess bit her lip. ‘I was set up and I didn’t understand that I was committing a crime.’

‘Set up by whom?’

The rank disbelief in Drago’s tone made Jess’s heart sink. She had no chance of convincing him of her innocence when she had been found guilty by a jury, she acknowledged bleakly. The injustice of what had happened still burned inside her. But at the same time as the court case seven years ago, she had had to make a monumental decision that had left her feeling numb and strangely distanced from other events in her life.

‘Explain what you mean about being set up,’ Drago demanded.

‘What’s the point?’ She tore her eyes from his hard-boned face, hating the way her body responded to him. ‘You have already judged me. The only person who can exonerate me is Angelo.’

The strident ring of his phone made them both jump. Drago frowned when he saw the hospital consultant’s number flash on the caller display, and he quickly answered. After a terse conversation in Italian he ended the call and stared across the table at Jess.

‘Angelo has just regained consciousness—and he has asked for you.’

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY WERE MET at the door of the intensive care unit by a smartly dressed woman whom Drago hurriedly introduced as his mother. Luisa Cassari subjected Jess to a sharp stare, which became speculative as she turned her gaze on her son.

‘I thought the new Cassari clothing range wasn’t going to be launched in stores until May, but I see Miss Harper is already wearing pieces from the collection.’

Drago met his mother’s enquiry coolly. ‘It was necessary to provide Jess with something to wear after she lost all her belongings.’

Her brows rose as she glanced back at Jess. ‘How did you lose your things?’

‘Um…I fell into the canal.’ Jess felt her face burning. ‘It’s a long story,’ she mumbled.

‘And an intriguing one, I’m sure.’

There followed a rapid conversation in Italian between mother and son, and Jess was surprised to see that Drago looked faintly uncomfortable.

‘We should be concentrating on Angelo,’ he told his mother, reverting back to English and speaking in a firm tone that caused Luisa to compress her lips. But she made no further comment as Drago placed his hand on Jess’s shoulder and pushed her towards the bed.

Aunt Dorotea was gripping Angelo’s hand while tears streamed down her face.

Drago spoke to the doctor who was standing nearby. ‘What’s happened?’

‘He came round a few minutes ago and asked for his mother. He was lucid, and the signs are good that he is emerging from the coma.’ The doctor looked at Jess. ‘He also murmured your name. I think it would help if he heard your voice.’

Supremely conscious that everyone in the room was watching her, Jess leaned over the bed and said softly, ‘Hi, Angelo. It’s great to have you back.’

His eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. ‘Jess?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’ Tears clogged her throat so that her voiced emerged as a croaky whisper. She felt weak with relief that Angelo was back from the brink.

His eyes had closed, but now they opened again. ‘What happened to me?’

After darting a questioning glance at the doctor, Jess said gently, ‘You had a car accident. Do you remember?’

Angelo’s brow furrowed. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I needed to tell Drago something…but I don’t remember what it was.’ He focused unsteadily on Jess and managed a faint smile. ‘I know that we are friends.’ His smile faded. ‘But I don’t remember how I know you. I don’t remember anything…except that I had to see Drago urgently.’

‘I’m here,’ Drago said gruffly, struggling to control his emotions. ‘Take it easy, Angelo. I’m sure your memory will come back soon.’

Angelo turned his head on the pillow and smiled at his mother. ‘Ciao, Mamma.’

Aunt Dorotea promptly burst into tears again, and as she leaned across the bed to kiss her son Drago indicated that Jess should step back.

‘Aren’t you going to ask him about his inheritance money?’ she demanded in a fierce whisper, while the doctor and nursing staff crowded around the bed.

‘He’s hardly in a fit state. You heard what he said. He doesn’t remember anything at the moment. I need to have a word with the doctor about Angelo’s memory loss.’

Drago followed the consultant out of the room, and when he returned a few minutes later his expression was grim. Angelo had fallen into a peaceful sleep, and Drago spoke in a low voice.

‘The consultant says that amnesia after a head injury is fairly common, but he can’t predict how long it will last. There are some other issues that he is more concerned about—particularly the serious break to Angelo’s left leg, which will require surgery.’ His aunt gasped, and he put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Try not to worry,’ he told her gently. ‘The doctor says he will be fine, and he is sure that in time his memory will return. A brain scan will tell us more. But for now we must be patient, and not excite or upset Angelo in any way that could hinder his recovery.’

He looked at Jess as he made this last statement, the hard expression in his black eyes warning her not to say anything until they had moved away from Angelo’s bedside. Holding open the door, he waited for her to precede him out into the corridor.

‘The consultant believes you could be the key to Angelo regaining his memory,’ he told her. ‘The fact that he remembers you, but not the accident, means that the amnesia is patchy, and if you keep talking to him you may jog his memory into returning fully.’

But until his memory did return she was still under suspicion from Drago and the other members of Angelo’s family, who believed she had persuaded him to give her a fortune, Jess realised heavily. ‘It could take days, or even weeks before he regains his memory.’ A note of panic crept into her voice. ‘You can’t possibly expect me to stay in Venice indefinitely.’

‘That’s exactly what I expect,’ Drago said coolly. ‘Angelo’s mind is trapped at a point in time when he believes you are his friend. When his memory eventually returns he may be able to explain why he told his mother that he gave you his inheritance fund and the truth of the matter will be revealed. But until then you will stay at the Palazzo d’Inverno as my guest.’

‘As your prisoner, you mean,’ she said angrily. ‘Guests aren’t usually locked in their room. Much as I want to help, I can’t abandon my business.’ She felt bad about leaving Angelo, but her team of workmen relied on her. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go back to London.’

Drago’s dark brows lifted in the arrogant expression Jess was becoming familiar with. ‘How do you intend to do that without a passport or money?’

‘I suppose I’ll have to go to the British Embassy and report that I’ve lost my passport.’ In truth she did not have a clue how she was going to get home, but she did not want him to guess she was worried.

‘You don’t even have money to pay for a taxi to the airport, much less an air ticket to London,’ he pointed out. ‘You should be grateful that I have offered you somewhere to stay.’

The mockery in his voice ignited Jess’s temper. ‘Grateful? I’d rather take my chances in a pit of rattlesnakes than stay with you.’ Her voice rose as she forgot that they were standing outside Angelo’s room, within earshot of Drago’s mother and aunt, not to mention half a dozen medical staff. Fury flashed in her green eyes. ‘You are a dictatorial, egotistical—’ She broke off and gave a startled gasp when his arm shot around her waist and he dragged her hard up against him. Too late she realised that she had pushed him beyond the limits of his patience.

‘And you have viper’s tongue,’ Drago growled, before he silenced her by bringing his mouth down on hers in a punishing kiss designed to prove his dominance.

Determined not to respond, Jess clamped her lips together, but her senses were swamped by the tantalising scent of his aftershave and the feel of his smooth cheek brushing against hers. His warm breath filled her mouth as he teased her lips apart with his tongue, probing insistently until with a low moan she sank against him, a prisoner to his masterful passion. But he was as much a slave to the explosive sexual chemistry that burned like a white-hot flame between them as she was, she realised, when he cupped her bottom and pulled her into the cradle of his thighs, so that she was intensely aware of his powerful erection.