Enemies at the Altar
MELANIE MILBURNE
Step into a world of sophistication and glamour, where sinfully seductive heroes await you in luxurious international locations.The last woman he would ever marryThe last time Andreas Ferrante saw Sienna Baker she was naively trying to seduce him. Whilst her provocative sensuality is emblazoned on Andreas’s memory, the terrible consequences torment him. So the news that they must marry to secure his inheritance is unthinkable…Once devastated by his heartless rejection, when she sees Andreas again it makes Sienna’s humiliation burn brighter. And as for marrying him…? They’d be lucky to last the ceremony without killing each other! But there’s a fine line between love and hate…Will the flames of anger turn to white-hot passion on their wedding night? The Outrageous Sisters The twin sisters everyone’s talking about!
‘And now we come to Andreas and Sienna. I think we should conduct this in private. Just the two of you, if the others don’t mind.’
Andreas felt his spine tighten. He didn’t want his name bracketed with that little wildcat. It made him feel edgy. It had always made him feel that way. She was a tearaway who rocked his world in ways he didn’t want.
Had never wanted.
He had stayed away from the family home because of her. Sienna’s outrageous deceit had destroyed any chance of a working relationship with his father for the last eight years. Andreas blamed her for it all.
He hated her with a vengeance.
The lawyer waited for the others to leave the library before he opened the folder in front of him. ‘The Château de Chalvy in Provence is entailed to you both, but on the proviso that you live together legally as man and wife for a minimum of six months.’
THE OUTRAGEOUS SISTERS
The twin sisterseveryone’stalking about!
Separated by secrets …
Having grown up in different families, Gisele and
Sienna live lives that are worlds apart. Then a very
public revelation propels them into the world’s eye …
Drawn together by scandal!
Now the sisters have found each other—
but are they at risk of losing their hearts to the two men
who are determined to peel back the layers of
their glittering façades?
In April Gisele found out if she really was
DESERVING OF HIS DIAMONDS?
This month find out if Sienna says ‘I do’!
About the Author
MELANIE MILBURNE says: ‘I am married to a surgeon, Steve, and have two gorgeous sons, Paul and Phil. I live in Hobart, Tasmania, where I enjoy an active life as a long-distance runner and a nationally ranked top ten Master’s swimmer. I also have a Master’s Degree in Education, but my children totally turned me off the idea of teaching! When not running or swimming I write, and when I’m not doing all of the above I’m reading. And if someone could invent a way for me to read during a four-kilometre swim I’d be even happier!’
Recent titles by the same author:
DESERVING OF HIS DIAMONDS?
(The Outrageous Sisters)
HIS POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL
THE WEDDING CHARADE
(The Sabbatini Brothers)
SHOCK: ONE-NIGHT HEIR
(The Sabbatini Brothers)
SCANDAL: UNCLAIMED LOVE-CHILD
(The Sabbatini Brothers)
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Enemies
at the Altar
Melanie Milburne
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my niece Angie Fouche,
who is a beautiful and brave young woman.
Love you.
P.S. EEEE!!!!
CHAPTER ONE
ANDREAS got the call from his younger sister Miette in the early hours of the morning.
‘Papà is dead.’
Three words that under normal circumstances should have evoked a maelstrom of emotion, but to Andreas they meant nothing other than he was now free from having to play happy families on the extremely rare occasions his path crossed with his father. ‘When is the funeral?’ he asked.
‘Thursday,’ Miette said. ‘Will you come?’
Andreas glanced at the sleeping woman lying beside him in the king-sized hotel bed. He rubbed at his stub-bled jaw and let out a frustrated sigh. It was just typical of his father to choose the most inconvenient time to die. This coming weekend in Washington DC was where he had planned to ask Portia Briscoe to marry him once his business here was complete. He even had the ring in his briefcase. Now he would have to wait for another opportunity to propose. There was no way he wanted his engagement and marriage to be forever associated with anything to do with his father, even his demise.
‘Andreas?’ Miette’s voice pierced his reverie and his conscience. ‘It would be good if you could be there, for me even if not for Papà. You know how much I hate funerals, especially after Mamma’s.’
Andreas felt a claw of anger clench at his insides at the thought of their beautiful mother and how cruelly she had been betrayed. He was sure that had been what had finally killed her, not the cancer. The shame of finding out her husband was sleeping with the hired help while she was battling gruelling rounds of chemotherapy had broken her spirit and her heart.
And then, to add insult to injury, the brazenness of that witch Nell Baker and her trashy little sleep-around slut of a daughter Sienna had turned his mother’s final farewell into a cheap and tawdry soap opera.
‘I’ll be there,’ he said.
But that little hot-headed harlot Sienna Baker had better not.
The first person Sienna saw when she arrived at the funeral in Rome was Andreas Ferrante. At least her eyes registered it was him, but she had felt him seconds earlier in her body. As soon as she had stepped over the portal she had felt a shiver run up her spine and her heart had started a crazy little pitter-patter beat that was nothing like its normal, healthy, steady rhythm.
She hadn’t seen him in years and yet she had known he was there.
He was sitting in one of the pews at the front of the cathedral. Even though he had his back towards her she could see he was as staggeringly gorgeous as ever. His aristocratic bearing was like an aura that surrounded him. He exuded wealth and power and status. His glossy raven-black head was several inches higher than any of the other black-suited men sitting nearby, his thick, slightly wavy hair neither long nor short, but cut and styled so it brushed against the collar of his shirt.
He turned his head and leaned down to say something to the young woman seated beside him. Just seeing the profile of his face made Sienna want to put a hand to her chest where her heart was flapping like a frantic fish suddenly flung out of its fish tank. For years she had dismissed his features from her mind. She had dared not think of him. He was a part of her past she was ashamed of—deeply ashamed. She had been so young and foolish, so immature and insecure. She hadn’t thought through the consequences of twisting the truth. But then, who did at the age of seventeen?
And then, as if Andreas sensed her looking at him, he twisted his head and locked gazes with her. It was like a lightning strike when those hazel eyes hit hers. They narrowed and glared, pinning her to the spot like a bug on a corkboard.
Sienna pasted an indifferent smile on her face and, giving her silver-blonde head a toss, sashayed up the aisle and shimmied her way into a pew on the left hand side a few rows back from his.
She felt his anger.
She felt his rage.
She felt his fury.
It made her skin shiver. It made her vertebrae rattle like ice cubes in a glass. It made her blood race. It made her knees feel weak, as if someone had removed all of her strong stabilising ligaments and put overcooked noodles in their place.
But she showed none of that. Instead, she affected a cool poise that her teenage self, eight years ago, would have sorely envied.
The woman seated beside him was his latest mistress, or so Sienna had gathered from a recent press article. Portia Briscoe had lasted longer than any of his other lovers, which made Sienna wonder if the faint whisper she had heard of an impending engagement had any truth to it.
Not that she had ever thought of Andreas Ferrante as the falling in love type. To her he had always been the playboy prince of prosperity and privilege. When the time came he would choose a bride to suit his Old Money heritage. Just like his father and grandfather before him, love would not come into it at all.
Although, going on appearances alone, Portia Briscoe looked like the perfect candidate to be the next generation Ferrante bride. She was classically beautiful in a carefully constructed way. The sort of woman who never went anywhere without perfectly coiffed hair and expertly applied make-up. She was the type of woman who wouldn’t dream of turning up at a funeral on a whim, in faded jeans with ragged hems and soiled trainers or, God forbid, a T-shirt that had suffered a food spill.
Portia Briscoe only wore exquisitely tailored designer couture. She even had toothpaste commercial teeth and porcelain skin that looked as if it had never suffered a blemish on it.
Unlike Sienna, who’d had to endure the torture of braces for two years and had only that morning had to reach for her concealer to cover a spot on her chin.
Andreas Ferrante would make sure his bride never put a designer-clad foot out of place. His bride wouldn’t have a history of bad choices and reckless behaviour that had caused more pain and shame than she cared to think about.
No, his bride would be Perfect Portia, not shameful, scandalous Sienna.
Good luck to him.
As soon as the service was drawing to a close, Sienna slipped out of the church. She still wasn’t exactly sure why she had felt compelled to pay her respects to a man in death she hadn’t even liked in life. But she had seen the news in the press about his death from a heart attack and immediately thought of her mother.
Her mother Nell had loved Guido Ferrante.
Nell had worked for the Ferrante family for years, but not once had Guido acknowledged her as anything but his housekeeper. Sienna remembered all too well the scandal her mother had caused at Evaline Ferrante’s funeral. The press had gone wild with it, like a pack of hyenas over a carcass. It had been one of the most humiliating experiences of her life. To see her mother vilified, to see her shamed in the most appalling way, was something Sienna still carried with her. She had sworn that day she would never be at the mercy of a powerful man. She would be the one in control. She would be the agent of her own destiny, not have her life dictated to by others who had been better born or had more money than her.
She would never fall in love.
‘Excuse me, Miss Baker?’ A well-dressed man in his late fifties approached. ‘Sienna Louise Baker?’
Sienna set her shoulders squarely. ‘Who wants to know?’ she asked.
The man held out a hand. ‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ he said. ‘I am Lorenzo Di Salle, Guido Ferrante’s lawyer.’
Sienna took his hand briefly. ‘Nice to meet you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.’
She had barely moved a step before the lawyer’s words stopped her in her tracks. ‘You are invited to be at the reading of Guido Ferrante’s will.’
Sienna turned back around and stared at him with her mouth open. ‘Pardon?’
‘As a beneficiary to Signor Ferrante’s estate you are—’
‘A beneficiary?’ she gasped. ‘But why?’
The lawyer gave her a smile Sienna didn’t much care for. ‘Signor Ferrante has left some property to you,’ he said.
‘Property?’ she said blankly. ‘What property?’
‘The Chateau de Chalvy in Provence,’ he said.
Sienna’s heart did a double shuffle. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she said. ‘That was Evaline Ferrante’s family home. Surely it should go to Andreas or Miette?’
‘Signor Ferrante insisted it be left to you,’ he said. ‘There are, however, some conditions attached.’
Sienna narrowed her eyes. ‘Conditions?’
Lorenzo Di Salle gave her a serpentine smile. ‘The reading of the will is in the library at the Ferrante villa at three p.m. tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you there.’
Andreas prowled the length and breadth of the library feeling like a lion in a cat carrier. He hadn’t been to his family home in years, not since the night Sienna had been found all but naked in his bedroom at the age of seventeen. The little she-devil had lied her way out of it, making him out to be some sort of lecher while she had maintained the act of innocent victim, a role she played all too well. Why else had his father included her in his will? She wasn’t a blood relative. She was the housekeeper’s daughter. She was nothing but a little gold-digging slut who had already married once for money. She had obviously inveigled her way into his ailing father’s affections to get her greedy little hands on what she could, now that her elderly husband had died, leaving her practically penniless. His mother’s estate in Provence was the one thing Andreas would do anything to keep out of Sienna’s possession.
And he meant anything.
The door opened and Sienna Baker came breezing in as if she owned the place. At least today she had dressed a little more appropriately, but not by much. Her short denim skirt showed off the long slim length of her coltish sun-kissed legs and her white blouse was tied at her impossibly slender waist, showing a glimpse of the toned flesh of her abdomen. She didn’t have a scrap of make-up on her face and her silver-blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, but even so she looked as if she had just stepped off a photo shoot.
The whole room seemed to suck in a breath and hold it. Andreas had seen it happen so many times. Her totally natural beauty was like a punch to the solar plexus. He had worked hard over the years to disguise his reaction, but even now he could feel the effect she had on him. He had felt it yesterday in the church. He had known the very minute she had arrived.
He had sensed it.
He glanced at his watch before throwing her a contemptuous glare. ‘You’re late.’
She gave him a pert look as she flipped her hair over one shoulder. ‘It’s two minutes past three, Rich Boy,’ she said. ‘Don’t be so anal.’
The lawyer rustled his papers on the desk. ‘Could we get started?’ he asked. ‘There’s a lot to go through. Let’s start with Miette …’
Andreas remained standing as the will was read out. He was glad his younger sister was well provided for, not that she needed it as she and her husband had a very successful investment business based in London, but it was a relief to know she hadn’t been elbowed out by that brazen little blow-in. Miette had inherited the family villa in Rome and assets worth millions set in trust for her two young children. It was a satisfying result given that Miette—like Andreas—hadn’t been all that close to their father over the last years of his life.
‘And now we come to Andreas and Sienna,’ Lorenzo Di Salle said. ‘I think we should conduct this part of the reading in private. Just the two of you, if the others don’t mind.’
Andreas felt his spine tighten. He didn’t want his name bracketed with that little wildcat. It made him feel edgy. It had always made him feel that way. She was a tearaway who rocked his world in ways he didn’t want.
Had never wanted.
He had stayed away from the family home because of her. For years he hadn’t stepped over the threshold, not even to spend those few precious weeks with his mother before she died. Sienna’s outrageous deceit had destroyed any chance of a working relationship with his father for the last eight years. Andreas blamed her for it all. She was a sly little vixen intent on her own gain.
He hated her with a vengeance.
The lawyer waited for the others to leave the library before he opened the folder in front of him. ‘The Chateau de Chalvy in Provence is entailed to you both but on the proviso that you live together legally as man and wife for the minimum of six months.’
Andreas heard the lawyer’s words but it took a moment for them to register. He felt a shockwave go through him. It was like being shoved backwards by a toppling bookcase. He couldn’t get his throat unlocked to speak. He stood staring at the lawyer, wondering if he had imagined what he had just heard.
Sienna and him … married.
Legally tied.
Stuck together for six months.
It was a joke.
‘This has got to be a joke,’ Andreas said, raking a hand through his hair.
‘It’s no joke,’ Lorenzo Di Salle said. ‘Your father changed his will in the last month of his life. He was adamant about it. If you don’t agree to marry each other within the time frame, the property will be handed over to a distant relative.’
Andreas knew exactly which distant relative the lawyer was referring to. He also knew how quickly his mother’s ancestral home would be sold to feed the second cousin’s gambling addiction. His father had laid the perfect trap. He had thought of everything, every get out clause and every escape route. He had made it impossible for Andreas to do anything but obey his orders.
‘I’m not marrying him!’ Sienna shot to her feet, her grey-blue eyes flaring in outrage.
Andreas flicked her a disparaging glance. ‘Sit down and shut up, for God’s sake.’
She pushed her chin up, her bottom lip going forward in a pout. ‘I’m not marrying you.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Andreas said dryly and turned to the lawyer. ‘There’s got to be a way out of this. I’m about to become engaged. You have to make this go away.’
The lawyer lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘The will is iron-clad,’ he said. ‘If either of you refuses to cooperate, the other automatically inherits everything.’
‘What?’ Andreas and Sienna spoke at once.
Andreas threw her a look before he addressed the lawyer. ‘You mean if I don’t agree to marry her she inherits Chateau de Chalvy, plus all the other assets?’
Lorenzo nodded. ‘And if you do marry and one of you walks out before the six months is up, the one who stays inherits everything by default,’ he said. ‘Signor Ferrante set it up so neither of you have a choice but to marry each other and stay married for six months.’
‘Why six months?’ Sienna asked.
Andreas rolled his eyes as he muttered, ‘Because any longer than that he knew I would probably end up on a murder charge.’
Sienna sent him a withering look. ‘Only if you got in first.’
Andreas dismissed her comment by turning back to the lawyer. ‘What happens at the end of six months if we do decide to stick it out?’ he asked.
‘You get the chateau and Sienna gets a pay-out,’ the lawyer said.
‘How big a pay-out?’ Sienna asked.
Lorenzo named a sum that sent Andreas’s brows sky-high. ‘She gets that much for doing what exactly?’ he asked. ‘Flouncing around pretending to be the lady of the manor for six months? That’s outrageous!’
Sienna curled her lip at him. ‘I’d say it was pretty fair compensation for having to put up with you for six days, let alone six months.’
Andreas narrowed his eyes to paper-thin slits. ‘You put him up to this, didn’t you?’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘You got him to write this crazy will so you could get your greedy little hands on whatever you could.’
Her grey-blue eyes held his defiantly. ‘I haven’t seen or spoken to your father for five years,’ she said. ‘He didn’t even have the decency to send me a card or flowers when my mother died, let alone attend her funeral.’
Andreas stared her down. ‘Why did you come to his funeral if you hated him so much?’
Her chin stayed at a pugnacious height. ‘Don’t think I would’ve made a special trip because I damn well wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘I was here for a dress fitting for my sister’s wedding next month.’
‘I heard about your long lost twin,’ Andreas said. ‘I read about it in the paper.’ He curled his lip and added, ‘God help us all if she’s anything like you.’
She glared at him furiously. ‘I came to your father’s funeral out of respect for my mother,’ she said. ‘She would’ve come if she was still alive. Nothing on this earth would have stopped her.’
Andreas gave her a mocking look. ‘No, not even common decency, it seems.’
She shot to her feet with a hand raised to slap him. He only managed to stop it from connecting with his jaw by grasping her wrist in mid-air. The shock of her soft silky skin against his fingers was like a power surge going through his body. He saw the sudden flare of her eyes as if she had felt it too.
A nanosecond passed.
Something entered the air between them, a primal, dangerous thing that had no name, no shape or form—it was just there.
Andreas dropped her wrist and stepped back from her, surreptitiously opening and closing his fingers to see if they were still able to function. ‘You’ll have to excuse Miss Baker—’ he spoke to the lawyer again ‘—she has a reputation for histrionics.’
Sienna threw Andreas a filthy look. ‘Bastard.’
The lawyer closed the folder and got to his feet. ‘You have a week to come to a decision,’ he said. ‘I suggest you think about this carefully. There’s a lot to lose on both sides if you don’t cooperate.’
‘I’ve already decided,’ Sienna said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘I’m not marrying him.’
Andreas laughed. ‘Nice try, Sienna,’ he said. ‘There’s no way you’d turn your back on that amount of money.’
She came and stood right in his body space, her chin up, her eyes flashing, her hands on her slim hips, her beautiful breasts heaving. He had never felt such raw sexual energy coming towards him in his life. His whole body jolted with it. It was like being zapped with a Taser gun. He felt it rush through every vein like a flood of roaring fire. His groin pulsated as she leaned in closer, close enough for him to smell the sweet honey scent of her breath as it danced over his face. ‘You just watch me, Rich Boy,’ she said and then she swivelled on her trainer-clad feet and left.
CHAPTER TWO
‘IT SAYS here that Andreas Ferrante and his mistress have broken up,’ Kate Henley, Sienna’s flatmate, said a couple of days later. She looked up over the newspaper and frowned. ‘Hey, I thought you said they were about to get engaged?’
Sienna turned her back to wash a perfectly clean cup in the sink. ‘What Andreas Ferrante does or doesn’t do is of no interest to me whatsoever.’
‘Hang on a minute …’ The paper rustled as Kate spread it out over the clutter of the breakfast table. ‘Oh, my God! Is it true?’
Sienna turned to see her flatmate’s eyes were as big as the saucer she had just put on the draining rack. ‘Is what true?’ she asked warily.
‘It says you’re the other woman,’ Kate said, gaping at her like a fish. ‘It says you’re the reason they broke up.’
‘Let me see that.’ Sienna frowned as she snatched up the paper. She scanned the article, her heart galloping like a spooked thoroughbred.
Mega-rich French-Italian furniture designer Andreas Ferrante admits his secret involvement with former housekeeper’s daughter Sienna Baker destroyed his relationship with heiress Portia Briscoe.
‘That’s a downright lie!’ Sienna slammed the paper down, knocking over the milk carton in the process. ‘Oh, shoot!’ She grabbed a tea towel and mopped ineffectually at the mess while her mind ran on with fury.
‘Why would he say something like that?’ Kate asked with a wrinkled brow.
Sienna ground her teeth as she rinsed the cloth at the sink, splashing water everywhere in the process. ‘He wants me to marry him, that’s why.’
‘Erm … did I hear you correctly?’ Kate asked. ‘I think you said he wants to marry you. Did you actually say that?’
Sienna flung the milk-sodden tea towel in the sink. ‘I did but I’m not marrying him,’ she said with a scowl.
Kate clutched a hand to her chest theatrically. ‘Be still my heart,’ she said. ‘Andreas Ferrante—Florence-based millionaire, no, make that billionaire playboy—the most gorgeous-looking man on this planet—if not the entire universe—wants you to marry him and you said no?’
Sienna gave Kate an irritated look as she reached past her to wipe the milk off the bottom of the peanut butter jar. ‘He’s not that handsome.’
‘Not handsome?’ Kate gaped at her. ‘What about his bank account?’
‘I’m not interested in his bank account,’ Sienna said. ‘I married once for money. I’m not doing it again.’
‘But I thought you really loved Brian Littlemore,’ Kate said. ‘You cried buckets at his funeral.’
Sienna thought of her late husband and how close she had become to him in the few months before he died. She had married him for protection and security, not love. It had been a knee-jerk reaction when her life had spun out of control soon after the death of her mother. After a horrifying incident in which she found herself in bed with a complete stranger after one too many drinks, Brian Littlemore had offered her security and respectability at a time in her life when she had neither. Like her, he had been forced to live a lie for most of his life, but during their marriage he had been honest with her in a way few people ever were. She had come to love him for it. As far as she was concerned, his secret had died with him. She would never betray his trust in her. ‘Brian was a good man,’ she said. ‘He put his family before himself right to the day he died.’
‘It’s a pity he didn’t leave you better provided for,’ Kate said, reaching for the dishcloth. ‘I guess you could always ask your rich twin sister to help you out with the rent if you don’t manage to get a job in the next week or two.’
It still felt a little strange to Sienna to think of having a sister, let alone an identical twin. Gisele and she had been separated at birth when Sienna’s mother had accepted a pay-out from the high profile Australian married man who had got her pregnant. Nell had taken Sienna and handed over Gisele to the childless couple, Hilary and Richard Carter, who had subsequently raised Gisele as their own. Nell had taken the secret to her grave. Sienna had found out quite by accident about Gisele’s existence when she had been travelling in Australia a couple of months ago. She had only taken the trip on a whim when she’d seen a budget air fare online. She had always longed to go to Australia and, after Brian’s death, it seemed a good opportunity to help her clear her head a bit before she made a decision about her future. A chance encounter in a department store had brought about her reunion with her twin.
Although Sienna loved Gisele dearly, she was still finding her feet with the relationship. Gisele had suffered a very bitter and painful breakup because of the sex tape scandal Sienna had been caught up in. Finding herself in that man’s bed with no real memory of how she had got there had been such a shameful experience she had immediately left the country, thus having no idea of the fallout it had created for her sister. How that damning footage had got on the Internet and been wrongly linked to Gisele was something Sienna knew she would always feel dreadful about.
Gisele’s fiancé Emilio had believed Gisele had betrayed him, and it had only been the discovery of the truth about Sienna’s existence that had finally set things right. Their upcoming marriage in Rome was something she was looking forward to with bittersweet feelings. Her behaviour had almost wrecked Gisele and Emilio’s lives. They had lost two precious years together and a baby. What could she ever do to make it up to them?
But Kate had made a very good point. She had to find a source of income and find it soon. Before he had become ill, Sienna had worked in the office of Brian’s antiques business, but the family had stepped in after he had died and promptly sacked her. The trust fund Brian had left her had been just about gobbled up by the ongoing instability of the economy. Her dream of purchasing a home of her own had slipped out of her grasp, and there was no way—short of a miracle—for her to get it back.
Or was there?
Sienna thought of the money Guido Ferrante had bequeathed her. It was more than enough to buy a decent piece of real estate. The rest of it, invested sensibly, would set her up for life. She would be able to pursue her hobby of photography, perhaps even take it a step further and make a proper career out of it. How wonderful to be known for her talent instead of her mistakes and social blunders. How wonderful to be on the other side of the lens for a change, to be the one taking the pictures instead of being the subject.
She chewed at her lip as she thought of the conditions put on the will. Six months married to her worst enemy. It was a high price to pay, but then the reward at the end surely compensated for it?
It wasn’t as if it had to be a real marriage.
An involuntary shiver rippled over her skin at the thought of lying in Andreas’s strongly muscled arms, with his long hair-roughened legs entangled with hers, with his …
Sienna dried her hands on a fresh tea towel before she picked up her bag and keys. ‘I’m going away,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’ll send you the money for the rent.’
Kate swung around with the empty milk carton in one hand and a wet dishcloth in the other. ‘Away where?’
‘To Florence.’
Kate’s eyes bulged. ‘You’re going to say yes?’
Sienna gave her a grim look. ‘This could turn out to be the longest six months of my life.’
‘Six months?’ Kate frowned in confusion. ‘Isn’t marriage meant to be until death us do part?’
‘Not this one,’ Sienna said.
‘Aren’t you going to pack?’ Kate asked, eyes still out on stalks. ‘You can’t just turn up dressed in torn jeans and a T-shirt. You’ll need clothes, lots and lots of clothes and shoes and make-up and stuff.’
Sienna flung her handbag strap over her shoulder. ‘If Andreas Ferrante wants me to dress like one of his mistresses he can damn well pay for it. Ciao.’
‘Signor Ferrante is in a design team meeting and cannot be disturbed,’ the receptionist informed Sienna.
‘Tell him his fiancée is here,’ Sienna said with a guileless smile.
The receptionist’s eyes widened as they took in Sienna’s travel-worn appearance. ‘I’m not sure …’ she began uncertainly.
‘Tell him if he doesn’t see me right now the wedding won’t go ahead,’ Sienna said with a don’t-mess-with-me look.
The receptionist reached for the intercom and spoke in Italian to Andreas. ‘There’s a young woman here who claims to be your fiancée. Do you want me to call Security?’
Andreas’s deep mellifluous voice sounded over the system. ‘Tell her to wait in Reception.’
Sienna leaned over the desk and swung the speaker her way. ‘Get your butt out here, Andreas. We have things to discuss.’
‘The boardroom,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes.’
‘Out here now,’ Sienna said through gritted teeth.
‘Cara,’ he drawled, ‘such impatience fires my blood. Have you missed me terribly?’
Sienna pasted a false smile on her face for the sake of the receptionist. ‘Darling, you can’t imagine how awful it’s been without your arms around me. I’m going crazy for you. It’s been absolute torture to be without your kisses, your touch and your body doing all those wonderful things to—’
‘Let’s keep some things private, shall we?’ he interjected coolly.
Sienna smiled at the now goggle-eyed receptionist. ‘You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he has the most amazingly huge—’
‘Sienna,’ Andreas clipped out, ‘get in here right now.’
Sienna slipped off the desk and gave the receptionist a fingertip wave. ‘Isn’t he adorable?’
The boardroom was empty by the time Sienna arrived. Andreas had a face like thunder and the air was crackling with palpable tension.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he asked even before she had closed the door.
Sienna threw him a contemptuous glare. ‘Apparently we’re engaged,’ she said, clicking the door shut with considerable force. ‘I read about it in the press.’
His mouth went to a flat line. ‘I’m not the one who leaked that to the media.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘You know what they say about a woman scorned.’
Sienna raised her brows. ‘Perfect Portia did that? Wow, I bet she didn’t read that in the Good Girl’s Guide to Avoiding Social Slip-Ups.’
His brows snapped together. ‘I was about to ask her to marry me,’ he said. ‘She has a right to be upset.’
‘My heart bleeds,’ Sienna said on an exaggerated sigh.
He threw her a flinty look. ‘Bitch.’
She smiled at him sweetly. ‘Bastard.’
The air crackled some more.
Andreas paced the floor, his hand tracking another ragged pathway through the thick pelt of his hair. ‘We have to find a way to manage this,’ he said. ‘Six months and we’ll be free of this. I’ve looked at it from every angle. There’s no way out of it. We just have to do what’s expected. We can both win.’
Sienna pulled out one of the ergonomic chairs and sat down, swinging it from side to side as she watched him work the floor. ‘What’s in it for me?’ she asked.
He stopped pacing to look at her, his frown deepening. ‘What do you mean what’s in it for you? You get a truckload of money at the end of it.’
She held his hazel gaze. ‘I want more.’
His mouth tightened even further. ‘How much more?’
‘How about double?’
His jaw worked for a moment. ‘A quarter.’
‘A third,’ she said, holding his look.
He slammed his hands on the table right in front of her, his face so close to hers she could smell the good quality coffee on his breath. ‘Damn you to hell and back, you’re not getting any more,’ he said. ‘The deal stands as it stands. I’m not negotiating on it.’
Sienna rolled her chair back and rose to her feet in one fluid movement. ‘I guess that’s it then,’ she said. ‘If you want me to marry you then you’ll have to pay for the privilege.’
She was at the door when he finally spoke. ‘All right,’ he said on a heavily expelled breath. ‘I’ll give you a third on top of what my father bequeathed to you.’
Sienna turned to face him. ‘You want that chateau real bad, don’t you?’
His expression was rigid with tension. ‘It belonged to my mother,’ he said. ‘I will do anything it takes to keep it out of the hands of my greedy, profligate second cousin.’
‘Even marry me?’
He gave a humourless chuckle. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I can actually think of worse things than marrying you.’
‘Your imagination is streets ahead of mine because I can’t think of anything worse than being married to you,’ she said as she resumed her seat.
The air tightened like a steel cable.
Sienna felt his gaze run over her. It felt like a hot caress on her skin. His eyes seemed to sear the flesh off her bones. She felt naked under his scrutiny.
But then he had seen her naked, or almost.
She cringed at the memory. She had wanted him to be her first lover. She had dreamt about it for months. She had fantasised about him rescuing her from the life of drudgery she and her mother had been forced to live. All those years of never knowing what house they would be living in next. Not knowing what school or suburb she would be residing in. Her childhood had been a patchwork of packing up and leaving, of trying to fit in a new place, of trying to make friends with people who already had enough friends. She had always felt the odd one out. She didn’t belong upstairs or downstairs.
But everything had changed when her mother had got the position as housekeeper at the Ferrante villa in Rome. It was the most stunning property, with fabulous gardens and a massive swimming pool and tennis court. It had felt like paradise after years of living in a variety of cramped and mouldy inner city flats.
It had been the first time in her life Sienna had seen her mother truly happy and settled. She hadn’t wanted it to end. In her immature mind she’d had it all planned. Andreas, the son and heir of the Ferrante fortune, would fall in love with her and marry her. He was the handsome playboy prince, she was the pretty but penniless pauper, but their love and desire for each other would overcome that. She had been determined that he would notice her for once instead of treating her like an annoying puppy that hadn’t been properly housetrained. To him, she had always been the cleaning lady’s brat. He had even called her enfant terrible.
But this night it would be different. He hadn’t been home in months. This time he would see the change in her. He would see her for the sexually mature young woman she had believed herself to be.
She had seen his hazel eyes follow her all evening when she had helped bring in the family’s meal. She had sensed his male appraisal as she brought in the coffee and liqueurs to the salone. His nostrils had flared when she had leant down to place his cup beside him, as if he was breathing in her fragrance. Her hair had brushed against his arm and she had felt the electric current of awareness shoot through her body. He had looked at her then with those green and brown-flecked eyes of his and she had known he wanted her.
She had felt it.
She had waited for him in his bedroom, draping herself alluringly across his bed, dressed only in her knickers and bra, nervous but excited at the same time. Her body had tingled all over in anticipation.
The door had opened and Andreas had stood there for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. But then he seemed to give himself a mental shake and his expression immediately locked down, becoming stony, marble-like. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he growled. ‘Get dressed and get out.’
Sienna had been crushed. She had been so certain he wanted her. She had seen it. She had felt it. She had sensed it in the air. The heavily charged atmosphere had practically exploded with erotic tension. The same tension she could see in his body even though he had done his best to hide it. ‘I want you to make love to me,’ she said. ‘I know you want me. I’ve known it for ages.’
His mouth had been so tight it looked as if it had been drawn there with a thin felt tip pen. ‘You’re mistaken, Sienna,’ he said. ‘I have no interest in you whatsoever.’
Sienna had got off the bed and approached him. It had been brazen of her and impulsive but she had wanted to prove to him that what she felt was not just a figment of her youthful imagination. ‘I want you, Andreas,’ she said in a sultry tone as she reached for him.
Andreas had grasped her by the upper arms just as the door opened …
Sienna blinked herself out of the past. She didn’t want to remember that dreadful scene between Andreas and his father. She didn’t want to remember the unforgivable lies she had told. She had been desperate, terrified that her mother would lose the job she loved so much. The words had come tumbling out, a river of nonsense that she had regretted ever since. Andreas had never come home again, not even when his mother lay dying.
When Sienna looked up Andreas was standing behind the boardroom table, his steely gaze focused on her. ‘There are some practicalities we need to sort out,’ he said.
She resisted the urge to moisten her bark-dry lips. ‘Practicalities?’
‘The will states we have to live together as man and wife,’ he said. ‘That means you will have to sleep wherever I sleep.’
Sienna shot to her feet so fast the chair toppled over behind her. ‘I’m not sleeping with you!’
He rolled his eyes as if dealing with an imbecile. ‘Not in the same bed, Sienna, but under the same roof,’ he said. ‘We have to put on a show for the public.’
She blinked at him. ‘You mean we have to act as if we really wanted to be married to each other?’
He continued to look at her with that unwavering hazel gaze. ‘As much as it pains me to say this, yes, we will have to act as if we’re in love.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ she gasped. ‘I can’t do that! Everyone knows how much I hate you.’
‘Likewise,’ he said dryly, ‘but it’s only for six months and it’s only when we’re in public. We can wrestle each other to the ground when we’re alone.’
Sienna felt her cheeks flame with colour as the images his words conjured up flooded her brain. ‘I haven’t the faintest clue how to wrestle.’
‘Perhaps I could teach you,’ he said with a slanting smile that contained a hint of mockery and something else she didn’t even want to think about identifying. ‘The only thing you have to remember is the winner is the one who finishes on top.’
Sienna turned away so he couldn’t see how hot and bothered she felt. Her body felt as if it were on fire. Her skin was prickling all over as she thought of his strong lean body pinning hers beneath his. ‘How soon do we have to … you know … make things official?’
‘As soon as possible,’ he said. ‘I’ve applied for a special licence. It should come through any day now.’
‘And what sort of wedding do you have in mind?’ she asked, turning to look at him again.
‘You’re surely not hankering for a white wedding?’ he said with a mocking arch of one of his eyebrows.
She gave him a flippant look in return. ‘It’s supposed to be the bride’s day.’
‘You’ve already been a bride.’ He held her gaze for a microsecond before adding in disgust, ‘To a man old enough to be your grandfather.’
Sienna raised her chin at him. ‘At least I loved him.’
His lip curled. ‘You loved his money, you trashy little gold-digger,’ he said. ‘Did he make you earn every penny by opening your legs on command?’
She gave him her wild-child smile, the one the press had documented time and time again—the one that painted her as a sleep-around-slut on the make. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ she asked.
He flung himself away from the table, thrusting his hands deep in his trouser pockets as if he didn’t trust himself not to shake her till her teeth rattled.
Sienna found it exhilarating to know she had yanked his chain. He was always so cool and in control, but there was a side to him only she brought out. It was his primitive side, the raw male side that wanted to dominate and subdue her. The thought of him making her submit to him made her skin lift in a shiver.
She would fight him tooth and nail.
Andreas took some steadying breaths. She was doing it deliberately, of course. Trying her best to get under his skin, to prove nothing had changed in spite of the passage of time. How could one woman have such an effect on him?
He was not a slave to lust.
He had abhorred that in his father, how he had betrayed his wife of more than thirty years to bed a common tart.
Andreas prided himself on his self-control. He had the normal urges of any full-blooded male, but he always chose his partners with discretion. The women he slept with had class and poise. They were not headstrong harpies. They did not stir in him such unbridled passion.
He never lost his head.
But something about Sienna inflamed him and he had no control over it. He wanted to drive himself in her as hard and deeply as he could. He wanted to rut her like a wild animal did a random mate. He wanted to tame her, to have her submit to him in every way possible. His body ached and burned for her feverishly.
She was the forbidden fruit he had always prided himself he could resist.
That was no doubt why his father had set things up the way he had. He had known the temptation Sienna had always been for him. His father could not have thought of a worse punishment than tying her to him, dangling her under his nose, day in and day out. What had he been thinking? Had his father really hated him that much?
Andreas turned back to face Sienna. She was sitting down again, her jeans-clad legs propped up on the desk, her arms folded across her chest, which pushed her beautiful breasts upwards, looking every bit the impudent schoolgirl called into the headmaster’s office. She had a lamentable disrespect for authority. She was wilful and defiant. She didn’t know the meaning of the word respect. She could be surly and then sunny in the blink of an eye. She could be a sultry siren one second and an innocent waif the next.
He didn’t have a clue how he was going to manage this farcical arrangement, but manage it he would, even if it meant sleeping with her to get her out of his system once and for all.
Every drop of his blood sizzled at the thought.
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t found a place yet,’ she said. ‘I only just flew in.’
‘Where are your things?’
‘I didn’t bring anything with me,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d leave the wardrobe arrangements up to you. I figured the stuff I normally wear won’t suit.’
He stared at her incredulously. ‘You came here with nothing but the clothes you’re wearing?’
She gave him a feisty look. ‘If I’m going to act the part, I need to dress for it. But you can pay for it, not me.’
‘I have no problem with footing the bill,’ Andreas said. ‘It just seems a little unconventional, if not impetuous, for a young woman of your age to fly about the globe with nothing but jeans and a T-shirt and a handbag. Most of the women I know carry enough make-up and toiletries to sink a ship.’
‘I’m very low maintenance,’ she said.
‘I very much doubt it,’ he muttered.
She lowered her slim legs to the floor with a movement that was both coltish and graceful. ‘I’ll need a place to stay until we make things official,’ she said. ‘A five-star hotel will do nicely.’
‘You can stay at my villa.’ He scribbled the address on a sheet of paper and pushed it across the desk to her. ‘I want you right under my nose where I can keep an eye on you.’
‘You think I’ll spill my guts to the press like your ex-fiancée did?’ she asked with an insolent smile as she popped the folded paper inside her bra.
‘Technically, she wasn’t my fiancée,’ he said, tearing his gaze away from the tempting sight of her pert breasts. ‘I hadn’t got that far. I had bought a ring, however. You can borrow it if you like.’
She gave him a slitted-eye glare. ‘Don’t even think about it, Rich Boy,’ she said. ‘I want my own ring, not someone else’s.’
Andreas came over to where she was standing. He could feel the force field of her as soon as he crossed that invisible line. Her summery fragrance assaulted his nostrils, a combination of flowers and feminine warmth that was as heady as any mind-altering drug. This close, he could see the tiny dusting of freckles over the bridge of her retroussé nose and the tiniest of chickenpox scars above her left eyebrow.
Almost of its own volition, his gaze flicked down to her mouth.
Lust gave him a knockout punch in the gut when he saw the way the tip of her tongue darted out to leave a glistening layer of moisture on those plump, ripe lips.
He fought his leaping pulse back under control, dragging his gaze back to her glittering one. ‘This is all a game to you, isn’t it?’ he said.
Her top lip curled at him and her grey-blue eyes glittered. ‘You were going to kiss me, weren’t you?’
Andreas ground his teeth until he thought he’d have to eat jelly for the rest of his life. ‘I want to throttle you, not kiss you,’ he said.
‘You put one finger on me and see what happens,’ she said, matching him stare for stare.
Andreas already knew what would happen. He could feel it in his body. It was thundering through his veins like a torpedo. He couldn’t think of a time when he had felt such forceful, uncontrollable desire. It was like being a hormone-driven teenager all over again. Dynamite couldn’t do more damage than Sienna in temptress mode. ‘Get out of my sight,’ he ground out savagely.
She put up her chin. ‘Say please.’
He strode over to the door, holding it open pointedly. ‘Out.’
She tossed the silver-blonde curtain of her hair back behind her shoulders. ‘If I’m going to stay at your place I’ll need a key,’ she said.
‘The housekeeper will let you in,’ Andreas said. ‘I’ll call her now and tell her to expect you.’
‘What will you tell her and the rest of your staff about us?’ she asked.
‘I don’t make a habit of exchanging confidences with the household staff at any of my residences,’ he said. ‘They will assume it’s a normal marriage, just like everyone else.’
A little frown appeared over her grey-blue eyes. ‘Even though we won’t be sharing a room?’
Andreas felt that punch to his gut again. He could think of nothing more tempting than rolling around his bed with her legs wrapped around his waist, his body buried to the hilt in hers. His blood thickened and pulsed as he thought of how it would feel to finally satiate this need he had harboured so long. He would have his fill of her once and for all. In six months he would walk away. He would finally be immune. Free. In control.
‘It’s very common for people with villas the size of mine to occupy different suites,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t make sense to cram into one room when there are thirty others to choose from.’
Her eyes went wide. ‘That big, huh?’
‘It’s bigger than my father’s.’
A little smile played about the corners of her mouth. ‘I just bet it is,’ she said.
Andreas took out his wallet and handed her a credit card. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘Go shopping. Get your hair and nails done. Have coffee. Have a meal. I won’t be back till late. Don’t wait up.’
She took the card from him without touching his fingers and popped it in her bag. She moved past him in the doorway, not touching but close enough for every hair on his body to stand to attention and for every blood vessel to expand and throb. He was about to let out the breath he was holding when she suddenly stopped and turned back to look at him. ‘Do you have any idea why your father did this?’ she asked.
‘No idea at all.’
She chewed at her lower lip for a moment, a shadow passing like a cloud over her face. ‘He must have really hated me …’
‘What makes you think that?’ he asked, frowning at her. ‘This is about me, not you. My father hated me as much as I hated him.’
A little beat of silence passed.
‘I’d better get going,’ she said with an overly bright smile. ‘So many things to buy, so little time. Ciao.’
Andreas closed the door once she had left and leant back against it heavily, a frown tugging at his forehead. Half an hour with Sienna was like being in the middle of a hurricane with nothing but a paper parasol for protection.
How was he going to get through six months?
CHAPTER THREE
SIENNA took a taxi to Andreas’s Tuscan estate once she had finished shopping. The Renaissance-style villa was a few kilometres outside Florence, set amongst acres of olive groves and vineyards in the Chianti region of Tuscany, made famous for its wine. The fading afternoon sunshine cast a spectacular light over the fresh growth on the vines. Flowers in an array of bright colours tumbled from baskets hanging near the entrance to the villa. It was breathtakingly beautiful and a jolting reminder of the wealth Andreas had been born into and had never questioned. Sure, he had forged his own way with his furniture designs, but he had never had to worry about bills not being paid or where the next meal was coming from. It was hard not to feel a teensy bit jealous. Why did he even want his mother’s wretched chateau in Provence when he had all of this?
The thought of owning a property like the chateau made Sienna wonder if she should set about making him default on the will by making it impossible to live with her. It was a tempting thought: a chateau of her own, her own patch of paradise. It wasn’t as if Andreas would be left homeless or anything. He had homes everywhere. The one in Florence was his base, but she knew for a fact he had a villa in Barbados as well as one somewhere in Spain.
The door of the villa opened and a motherly-looking woman who introduced herself as Elena smiled as she ushered Sienna in. ‘Signor Ferrante told me you would be arriving this evening,’ she said. ‘I have made up the Rose Suite for you.’ She winked knowingly. ‘It is right next to his.’
Sienna forced a smile. ‘That was very thoughtful of you.’
‘It is no trouble,’ Elena said. ‘I was young and madly in love once. I met my husband and within a month we were married. I knew Signor Ferrante would change his mind about that one.’
Sienna frowned slightly. ‘Erm … “That one”?’
Elena made a noise that sounded something like a snort. ‘Princess Portia. She was never happy. I had to fetch and carry. She did not like red meat. She did not like cheese. She only ate this. She only ate that. I nearly went crazy.’
‘Maybe she was thinking of her figure,’ Sienna offered generously.
The housekeeper gave another snort of disapproval. ‘She is not the right one for Signor Ferrante,’ she said. ‘He needs a woman who is as passionate as he is.’
Sienna couldn’t help wondering exactly what Andreas had told his housekeeper about their relationship or whether Elena had assumed their whirlwind courtship had come about because they had suddenly fallen deeply in love. Or, even more worryingly, could the housekeeper see something in Sienna that she desperately wanted to keep hidden? It wasn’t as if she still had a crush on Andreas or anything. She didn’t love him. She hated him. But that didn’t mean his physical presence didn’t disturb her. It did, and way too much. ‘You seem to know him very well,’ she said.
Elena smiled. ‘He’s a good man. He’s very generous and hard-working, too. He helps in the vineyard whenever he can, and the orchards. You knew him before? I read about it in the paper. Your mamma used to work for his family, sì?’
‘Sì,’ Sienna said. ‘My mother took up the position as head housekeeper when I was fourteen. Andreas wasn’t living at home then, of course, but we ran into each other from time to time.’
‘Friends to lovers, sì?’ Elena said, smiling broadly.
‘Erm … something like that.’
‘I can see the fire in your eyes,’ Elena said. ‘He will be happy with you. I can tell these things. You will make good babies with him, sì?’
Sienna felt her face grow hot. ‘We haven’t talked about kids. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind affair, actually.’
‘The best ones are,’ Elena said with matronly authority. ‘Come, I’ll show you your new home. You’ll want to settle in before Signor Ferrante gets back.’
Sienna followed the cheery housekeeper on a tour of the villa. It was even bigger than she had expected. Room after room, suite after suite, all beautifully and tastefully decorated. It occurred to her that in a villa this size she could pass six months without even running into Andreas, or anyone else for that matter.
‘I’ll leave you to shower and change,’ Elena said. ‘I will set up the dinner before I leave.’
‘You don’t live here?’ Sienna asked.
‘I live in the farmhouse next to the olive grove,’ Elena said. ‘My husband, Franco, works for Signor Ferrante too. If you want anything we are only a phone call away. I will be back in the morning around ten. Signor Ferrante likes a bit of privacy. He has lived with servants all his life. I understand he wants his space.’
Sienna hadn’t factored in actually being alone with Andreas. Alone with servants was a whole lot different than alone. It put a completely different spin on things. Could she trust him to keep his distance? The chemistry between them was volatile, to say the least. She knew it wouldn’t take much to set things off. If that tense little moment in his boardroom was anything to go by, things could get pretty intense in a flash and what would she be able to do about it? It wasn’t as if she had any immunity, not really. She put on a good front but how long was that going to last? He had only to look at her a certain way and her insides coiled with lust.
It was ironic because sex was something she had never really taken to with any great enthusiasm. Although she had partied, and partied hard after Andreas’s rejection, it had been months and months before she had even thought about dating, and even when she had finally gone out with a couple of young men her age, the intimate encounters had left her cold. She had felt nothing for either of her partners and they clearly had felt nothing for her. And then, after the shameful night that had found her in a stranger’s bed, she had locked herself away in a sex-less and safe marriage of convenience. Before that night, whenever the press had portrayed her as a sleep-around-slut, she had laughed it off, pleased that she was getting some attention, even if it wasn’t positive. She had known the truth about herself and that had been all that mattered. But now the label had a ring of truth to it she dearly wished she could remove.
After she had unpacked and showered and changed, Sienna came downstairs. The villa seemed rather empty without the warm and friendly chatter of the housekeeper. She picked at some food and poured herself a glass of wine, feeling restless and irritable.
Maybe she should have thought about this a little more before she went any further. It wasn’t the first time her impulsive nature had got her into trouble. Was it too late to back out?
The money stopped her thoughts of escape in their tracks. What was she thinking? It was like any other unpleasant job that had to be done. A six-month contract that would be over before she knew it. She would receive a handsome pay-out for her trouble.
There was that T word again. Trouble.
She had a habit of attracting it, no matter what she did. Was she forever destined to be at the mercy of circumstances she couldn’t control? Was it her fault her mother had kept her and given away her sister?
Jealousy was something Sienna didn’t want to feel around her twin, but she couldn’t help feeling a little cheated by how things had panned out. Gisele had grown up well provided for. She’d had a private education and gone on fabulous exotic holidays. She had lived in the same gorgeous house all of her childhood. She hadn’t had to pack up her things every few months or so when someone got tired of her mother’s laziness or cheek. She’d had a father to watch out for her, to provide for her and protect her from those who preyed upon the vulnerable.
Sienna, on the other hand, had grown up a whole lot faster than her peers. She’d learnt early on that there were few people you could trust. Everyone was out for his or her own gain.
And now she was no different.
She would get what she could out of this and move on. She would milk Andreas for every penny she could before she walked out of his life.
For good.
Sienna was on to her second glass of wine when she heard Andreas’s car. The deep throaty roar of the engine made her stomach clench unexpectedly. His fast car, fast-living lifestyle was something that had always attracted her even as it annoyed her. He had probably never had to push start a car in his life. He had never had to make his own bed or butter his own toast. He hadn’t been born with just a silver spoon in his mouth, but an entire dinner service. He ate from fine bone china and drank from crystal glasses. He had everything that money could buy and then some.
How she hated him for it.
Andreas came in to find Sienna lying on her stomach on his leather sofa with a half drunk glass of wine in her hand and the remote control to his big screen television in the other. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and she was wearing close-fitting black yoga pants and a loose hot-pink top that had slipped off one of her sun-kissed shoulders. Her feet were bare as she swung her lower legs back and forth in a slow motion kicking action. She looked young and nubile and so damned sexy he felt a tight ache deep in his groin.
‘Hard day at the office?’ she asked without even looking his way as she flicked through the channels.
He tugged at his tie to loosen it. ‘You could say that.’ He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the end of the other sofa. ‘Making ourselves at home, are we?’
She took a sip of her wine before she answered. ‘Having a blast,’ she said. ‘You make great wine, by the way. I like your housekeeper too. We’re already best friends.’
‘You’re not supposed to make friends with the servants,’ he said, frowning.
She muted the television and swung her legs down to sit up. ‘Why’s that?’ she asked. ‘Because they might forget their place and get too close to you?’
Andreas let out a carefully controlled breath. ‘They’re employees, not friends,’ he said. ‘They do the work and they get paid. There’s nothing else that’s required of them.’
She got off the sofa and padded over to where he was standing with her loose-limbed sensual gait. She looked up at him with those big sparkling-with-mischief grey-blue eyes of hers and he felt his groin tighten another excruciating notch. It was all he could do to stand there without hauling her against him to show her how much he lusted after her. But he had decided he would have her when he said so, not because she thought she could manipulate him at will.
‘Have you eaten?’ she asked.
‘What is this?’ he asked with a mocking look. ‘Wifely duties 101?’
She lifted that deliciously bare shoulder of hers in a little shrug, her mouth going to a resentful pout. ‘Just trying to be helpful,’ she said. ‘I thought you looked tired.’
‘Maybe that’s because I haven’t slept a wink since I heard about my father’s will,’ Andreas said, rubbing a hand over his face, which was in need of a shave.
He walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of the wine Sienna had opened. He took a couple of sips before swinging his gaze back to her. ‘I’ve got the licence. I pulled a few strings. We can get married next Friday.’
Her eyes widened a fraction but her voice when she spoke was all sass. ‘You move fast when you want something, don’t you, Rich Boy?’
‘No point in dragging things out,’ he said. ‘The sooner we marry, the sooner we can get a divorce.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
Andreas narrowed his gaze in sharp focus. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Her slim brows lifted archly. ‘Exactly what I said,’ she said. ‘You seem to have it all figured out.’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘We marry and then at the end of six months we end it. Simple.’
‘What did you tell Elena about us?’ she asked.
‘Nothing, other than we’re getting married as soon as possible.’
‘You must have said more than that,’ she said, toying with the end of her ponytail.
‘Why do you think that?’ he asked.
She lifted her golden shoulder up and down again. ‘She seems to think we’re madly in love,’ she said.
‘Most people are when they marry,’ Andreas said, taking another mouthful of wine.
A beat of silence ticked past.
‘Were you in love with Portia Briscoe?’ Sienna asked.
Andreas’s brows shot together. ‘What sort of question is that?’ he asked.
She tilted her head on one side, her finger tapping against her lips. ‘No, I don’t think you loved her,’ she said. ‘I think you liked her well enough. She ticked all the boxes for you. She comes from money, she knows what cutlery to use and she dresses well and never has a hair out of place. She never says the wrong thing or rubs people up the wrong way. But grab-you-in-the-guts love? Nope. I don’t think so.’
‘You’re a fine one to harp on about true love,’ he said. ‘You weren’t in love with Brian Littlemore. You barely knew him when you waltzed him down the aisle before his wife was even cold in her grave.’
‘Actually, I did know him,’ she said with an imperious air. ‘I’d met him well before his wife died.’
Andreas gave her a disgusted look. ‘And no doubt you opened your legs for him then too. Did he pay you? Or did you give him one for free to get him so hot and hungry the poor old fool couldn’t help himself?’
Sienna’s eyes flashed at him with undiluted venom. ‘You have a mind like a sewer,’ she said. ‘You sit up there in your diamond-encrusted, gold-inlaid ivory tower of yours, passing judgement on people you don’t even know from a bar of soap. Brian was a decent man with a big heart. You haven’t even got a heart. All you’ve got inside your chest is a lump of cold, hard stone.’
Andreas took a measured sip of his wine. ‘Your loyalty to your late husband is touching, ma chérie,’ he said. ‘But I wonder if you would be so loyal if you knew he had another lover the whole time he was with you.’
Her eyes flickered before moving away from his. He watched as she moved back to where she had left her glass of wine. She picked it up and cradled it in her hands without drinking any of it. ‘We had an open marriage,’ she said, still not looking at him. ‘It gave us both the freedom to do what we wanted as long as we were both discreet about it.’
Andreas wondered if he should have been quite so blunt with her. There had been nothing in the press about her late husband’s affair. He had heard it secondhand and not from a particularly reliable source. But if she was hurt or upset by the news she was doing a good job of concealing it. Admittedly, she was standing stiffly, almost guardedly, but neither her expression nor her tone showed any sign of emotional carnage.
‘You knew about his mistress?’ he asked.
She turned to look at him, a little puzzled frown pulling at her brow. ‘His … mistress?’
‘The woman he was seeing,’ he said. ‘His lover.’
She gave a little laugh that seemed totally out of place. It sounded almost … relieved. ‘Oh, her …’ she said. ‘Yes, I knew about her right from the start.’
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