Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender: Seducing His Enemy's Daughter / Surrendering to the Vengeful Italian / Soldier Under Siege. Annie West
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depends—’ a look flashed between him and her father ‘—on a number of things. For the moment I have no definite plans to return.’
Ella nodded easily, as if those plans didn’t include marriage to Reg Sanderson’s daughter.
That was not going to happen.
‘Let’s hope the weather stays fine for your visit. Sydney is a city to be enjoyed in the sunshine.’ As if she spent her days lolling on her father’s motor cruiser, quaffing champagne or indulging in long lunches.
Ella pressed a hand to her empty stomach. Fuzz had left mere hours before this party to honour the man their father wanted her to marry and Reg had summoned Ella straight from work. Typically, while there was plenty of alcohol flowing, food had yet to make an appearance.
‘Ah, the weather.’ Donato’s tone was unreadable, his eyes serious, yet she detected a flicker of superior amusement at one corner of his mouth. ‘A polite and predictable conversation starter. Will you tell me how much better it is here than in wet, windy Melbourne?’
‘It hadn’t occurred to me.’ Ella feigned surprise to hide her annoyance. She’d had her fill of being a source of amusement for her father’s sophisticated friends. Years as the ugly duckling made her prickly when patronised. ‘Are Melbournians really so touchy about their weather? I thought they were more robust.’ She ignored her father’s glowering frown. ‘But do, please, feel free to choose another conversation starter, polite for preference.’
Something glinted in Donato’s appraising eyes and Ella drew herself up.
‘Really, Ella—’ her father began.
‘No, no. The weather it is, Ella.’ Donato said her name slowly as if tasting it. Absurdly, since his accent was as Australian as her own, she caught a hint of exotic foreignness, an unexpected sliver of something unfamiliar and alluring in her simple little name.
The hairs at her nape and along her arms stood to attention.
She firmed her lips at such a flight of fancy. If hearing him say her name with that appealing lilt made her giddy, how would she cope when she finally saved enough for her long-awaited holiday to South America?
‘Tell me—’ he leaned in and Ella caught an enticing hint of coffee and warm male skin ‘—since you’re interested in the weather. Do you think we can expect a summer storm later? Lightning and thunder, perhaps?’
Ella looked from her father, his expression icy with warning, to the clear sky, then back to Donato Salazar with his glinting, unreadable eyes. He knew how her father was sweating on this meeting and he didn’t give a damn. Ella was torn between admiration and anger.
‘Anything is possible, given the right atmospheric conditions.’
He nodded. ‘I find the prospect surprisingly...invigorating.’ He didn’t move but suddenly he seemed to loom closer, towering over her despite her borrowed heels. The air around her seemed to snap and tighten. Or was that her nerves?
Ella told herself that squiggle of response deep inside was because, at five feet ten, she wasn’t used to men dwarfing her. It had nothing to do with the idea of this dark, challenging, vibrant man being invigorated.
The image that word conjured made her catch her breath. Since when had her imagination been so flagrantly erotic?
She had an awful suspicion he read her thoughts. Heat seeped under her skin, spread across her chest and up her throat.
Maybe she’d been working with elderly patients too long. How long since she’d been close to a virile man in his prime? One whose gaze challenged her not to react to him, even as she felt that telltale melting at her core.
‘Tell me more,’ he murmured, his voice like dark, rich syrup. ‘What atmospheric conditions would lead to electricity in the air?’
He was toying with her.
He’d sensed her instantaneous, deeply feminine response to him—that tremor in her belly, that lush softening, and it amused him. His face was as close to bland as such a strong, remarkable face could be. Yet she knew. Something she couldn’t name connected them.
‘I have no idea,’ she snapped. ‘I’m no meteorologist.’
‘You disappoint me.’ His words were silky, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her as if she were some curious specimen. ‘Most people I meet like to talk about things they know well.’
‘To show off their knowledge, you mean?’
He shrugged. The implication was clear. People tried to attract his attention. Her father was about to do it, clearing his throat ready to interrupt this conversation that wasn’t going as he’d planned.
‘You think I should try to impress you?’ Stupid question. This man could make or break her father and, by association, her siblings. She might not need to impress him but common sense dictated she shouldn’t antagonise him either.
Yet it was antagonism she felt, swirling in her blood. That and attraction. And something like fear. It was a dangerous combination.
‘I can tell you—’ she spoke as her father opened his mouth ‘—that our weather often comes from the south.’
‘From the direction of Melbourne, you mean?’ Donato’s eyes narrowed.
‘Precisely.’ She angled her chin higher, refusing to look away from that intent stare. ‘So if there’s an abrupt change in the atmosphere from the south, a big blustery wind, for instance. Or a sudden influx of hot air...’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows what bad weather might result?’
‘Ella—’ Her father’s voice promised retribution but was drowned by a sharp crack of laughter.
It reverberated around her, deep and appealing. Ella’s skin prickled and shivered as if in response to the elemental rumble of thunder.
Donato Salazar had a surprisingly attractive laugh for a man who looked like he could play the Prince of Darkness with no effort at all. The trouble was laughter, the humour in his eyes and that unlooked-for smile turned him into someone far more approachable.
Her fingers tingled. She wanted—so badly she wanted—to cup his face and discover how that sharply defined jaw, that rich olive skin felt beneath her hand.
Ella swung her hands behind her back, clasping them tight together like a schoolgirl.
She shivered. Her response to this man was anything but childish. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her mouth sagging till she realised and snapped it shut. And that melting sensation had spread. Between her legs felt soft like warm butter.
Horror filled her and she stumbled back, only stopping when his laughter cut off and his gaze meshed with hers.
There it was again. That certainty he knew what she felt. The realisation should have mortified her. Instead it felt almost...liberating.
Ella blinked. Her imagination was working overtime. Lack of food had made her woolly-headed.
She did not turn into a puddle of pure lust after five minutes’ acquaintance with any man.
She did not have some psychic connection with this stranger.
‘I apologise for my daughter.’ Her father skewered her with a glacial look. ‘She—’
‘There is no need to apologise.’ Still Donato didn’t shift his gaze from her. That steady look was unnerving. ‘Your daughter is charming.’
‘Charming?’ Reg spluttered before quickly gathering himself. ‘Of course, yes. She’s certainly unusual.’
Ella might have felt grim amusement at her father’s description of his cuckoo-in-the-nest daughter if she weren’t so flabbergasted.
Charming?
Never in her life