The Mediterranean Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain Read Online Free PDF Page A

was concerned. However, the woman was one of many, it seemed. It was what she had said that had galvanized Alicia to take these drastic actions. The woman had said that the only way to deal with a man like Dante D’Aquanni was by taking him by surprise, hitting him where it hurt. Publicly. Even super successful businessmen weren’t immune to public opinion. Public censure. And if people knew that he’d callously turned his back on a pregnant ex-lover—
    A brief knock came on the door at that moment and Alicia scrambled up. Maybe she’d been too harsh, maybe he’d listen if she tried to be reasonable. The key turned and the door opened. Alicia’s hands were clasped in front of her. ‘Look, I’m sorry for—’
    But it wasn’t Dante D’Aquanni. It was the kindly housekeeper. She came in with a tray that held a steaming bowl of pasta and a glass of water. Alicia was so shocked that all she could do was stare, it didn’t even occur to her to try and escape. Her hollow stomach rumbled.
    The woman smiled, her eyes crinkling in her brown face, seemingly oblivious that Alicia was no guest of the master. She put down the tray and gestured to Alicia’s clothes. She obviously meant for her to take them off. Alicia backed away and put her hands up.
    â€˜No, no…they’re fine, really…’ She wished she knew some Italian. But the woman was clearly not taking no for an answer. She took Alicia by the hand and led her to the bed, pulling her sweatshirt up and, before Alicia could protest, too weak in all honesty, the woman had whipped it off.
    Her trousers were next and soon she stood in just her underwear. The woman pointed at the tray, which also held some cotton wool and antiseptic. She gestured to the cut on Alicia’s face and tutted. Alicia touched it, feeling the raised and congealed welt. She hadn’t even noticed. The housekeeper disappeared into an en suite bathroom and returned with a luxurious white robe, which she left on the bed.
    Then she gathered up Alicia’s clothes and left the room, the ominous turning of the key making her come to her senses again. Nothing had changed; she was still a prisoner. She sat on the bed, arms wrapped around herself. She wanted to ignore the plate piled high with fragrant, steaming pasta. Wanted to conduct a hunger strike. But she knew how weakened she was. She needed her strength to be able to deal with Dante D’Aquanni again.
    And when she saw her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom a short time later, she was glad she had eaten because she nearly fainted all over again at the sight of the scarecrow that greeted her.
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    Dante turned the key quietly and opened the door. It was much later that night. The light in the room was dim. He walked in and stood by the bed, hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. He had convinced himself that what had happened to him when he’d kissed the woman earlier had been as a result of the surreal circumstances. But now, as he looked down at her, he felt a disconcerting pulse throb to life in his blood. For a screaming virago, there was something curiously innocent about her.
    In a bathrobe which swamped her petite frame, her hair was no longer an indistinct bundled up mess. It was a mass of dark blonde ringlets spread on the pillow behind her. With the grime and dust washed away he could see her face properly for the first time; she was actually extremely pretty.
    She looked as if she’d gone to sleep despite herself, as if she’d fought it. Her hands were balled up, making her look as if she was ready, even now, to take on some attacker. The raised red welt on her cheek made him feel curiously concerned. He cursed himself.
    His gaze travelled down; one slim leg, with a perfectly shaped calf and silky-smooth skin peeped out from the folds of the robe. Her foot was tiny, no bigger than a child’s. Her breaths were deep and even. She was in a heavy