Seducing His Enemy's Daughter. Annie West
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the decade.’
Donato watched his host turn a pasty shade of green. ‘I realise it’s a huge task organising such an event at short notice so I’ll give you some assistance.’
‘That’s very good of you, Donato. I won’t say no.’
‘Good. I’ll lend you someone to help with the preparations. I know just the person. She’s got an eye for quality and understands we’ll want no expense spared.’ He put up his hand when Sanderson would have interrupted. ‘Don’t thank me. It’s the least I can do.’
Sanderson bit back a response, his expression for a moment ugly, though quickly masked.
‘Now, if you’ll just give me Ella’s mobile number? I forgot to get it earlier.’
Interestingly, for a man who thought his daughter so ‘special’, Sanderson didn’t have the number programmed into his phone. He had to go inside to get it, leaving Donato to consider the outcome of tonight’s events.
Sanderson was on the hook.
As for his absurd proposal that Donato marry his daughter...that was the bid of a desperate man.
But Donato would play along. It would be the icing on the cake to know his enemy had spent his last credit on a huge public wedding that would never take place. Not only would Sanderson be ruined beyond redemption, the farce of the non-wedding would make him a social pariah.
Even if Donato had to come in quietly later and pay the bills so no suppliers were out of pocket, the expense would be worth it. Sanderson would be in the gutter, ashamed and ostracised, bankrupt and unable to start again. He deserved far worse but it would do.
Only one thing niggled. When Sanderson had first suggested marriage, Donato had had no qualms about agreeing. From what he’d learned, Felicity had a Teflon-coated heart. She’d thrive on the notoriety and the monetary compensation Donato would provide when the wedding was cancelled.
But Ella was different. He didn’t yet have her measure and that gave him pause. He never went into negotiations without knowing his opponent. Or in this case his partner.
His lips tilted in a satisfied smile. No, it didn’t matter if this once he winged it. He’d work out a way to compensate her. But he had no intention of walking away. Not merely because this dovetailed so nicely with his plans for revenge. But because he wanted Ella.
He intended to enjoy her, and their courtship, to the full.
‘’LO...?’ ELLA DRAGGED the phone to her ear, burrowing deeper into her bed. It was far too early on a Saturday morning for anyone to call.
‘Not a morning person, Ella?’ The deep voice poured through the phone to ripple like soft suede over her bare skin. Instantly she was alert, her eyes popping open to survey the morning light sneaking around the edges of her bedroom curtains.
‘Who is this?’ Her voice sounded prim, almost schoolmarmish, but it was her best effort. She’d gone to sleep with the sound of Donato’s voice in her ears; she’d even dreamt of it when she eventually managed to snatch some sleep. It was unfair to be confronted with it now when she hadn’t had time to gather herself.
‘As if you don’t know, sweet Ella. Did I wake you?’ The words worked like a caress, drawing her skin taut, jerking her free of the last traces of sleep. That voice should be outlawed. It was too decadent, too delicious to be unleashed on an unsuspecting woman.
‘Yes. No!’ She rolled her eyes in frustration. ‘Who’s speaking?’
‘Forgotten your fiancé already?’ His voice plumbed new depths, curling heat right down inside her. ‘I can see I’ll have to try harder.’
‘Donato.’ No point pretending. ‘What do you want?’ She wouldn’t dignify that fiancé joke with a response.
‘I told you last night want I wanted.’
Her. That was what he’d said. And her body had gone into libido overdrive at the look in his sultry eyes.
‘But for now just tell me, are you still in bed?’
‘What if I am?’ Ella frowned. Why? Was he somewhere nearby? Had her father given him her address? Surely not. Donato Salazar wouldn’t venture into the working-class suburbs in search of her. Though, after what she’d learned about him on the Web when she got home, he wasn’t a stranger to poor neighbourhoods. She still found it hard to believe what she’d discovered.
‘Tell me what you’re wearing.’ The words raked her skin, drawing it tight over a belly that clenched needily.
Just at the sound of his voice?
Ella bit back a moan. This couldn’t be happening to her.
‘Tell me, Ella. Pyjamas?’ He paused. ‘A nightie?’ Another pause, longer this time. ‘Silk and lace?’
She firmed her lips, not letting herself rise to the bait.
‘Or do you sleep naked?’
The gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it. Weirdly, it felt as if, just by saying it, he must know.
And now he did. She’d given herself away with that intake of breath. She heard it in his voice. ‘Give me your address and I’ll be straight over.’
‘No!’ Her voice hit top register. Her heart was pounding as she heard his dark-chocolate chuckle against her ear.
She wanted to tell him she didn’t usually sleep naked. It had just been so hot last night and she couldn’t get comfortable, even after a cold shower. But she knew he’d put two and two together and realise it wasn’t the summer heat that had kept her from sleep, but thoughts of him. His ego was big enough already.
‘Why are you ringing, Donato?’
‘It’s not enough that I want to hear your voice?’
That sounded like a parody of her own feelings. She tried to despise this man who was a crony of her father’s, who’d toyed with her last night. Yet she kept the phone pressed to her ear, luxuriating in the soft rumble of his voice. As if she wanted that flurry of desire rippling through her.
Ella shuffled up in the bed, yanking the pillows up behind her so she could sit. Lying naked in bed with Donato’s voice in her ear was wrong on so many levels.
‘Get to the point, Donato. Why did you call?’
‘Do you usually sleep so late?’
Ella peered at the time, stunned to find it was after nine. ‘No.’ Usually she was up at six to fit in Pilates or a swim before work.
‘So you had a disturbed night? Were you dreaming about me?’ That thread of satisfaction in his voice grew stronger.
‘Is there a point to this call?’ She sighed ostentatiously as if she hadn’t indeed spent half the night taunted by dreams of him. ‘Or do I hang up now?’
‘Give me your address so I can collect you. We’re having lunch together.’
Ella scowled. She told herself it was because of his assumption she’d go along with what he wanted. But what unnerved her was the little jiggle of excitement that skipped through her.
‘Ella?’
‘If you’d invited me to lunch I’d be obliged to thank you for the invitation before I declined. But as there was no invitation that’s unnecessary.’
‘Absolutely,’ he said smoothly. ‘Because we will be lunching together.’
Ella shifted against the pillows. She shouldn’t enjoy this fruitless argument. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to end the call. Not when basking in the sound of Donato’s