A Night In His Arms. Annie West
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breath in Domenico’s lungs. It wasn’t possible. The court had been through all the evidence, right down to Lucy’s fingerprints on the expensive necklace Sandro had given her that night. It had been a lovers’ quarrel. And there was a witness who put Scarlatti elsewhere when Sandro died.
And yet... Again that frisson of unease stirred. That sense that something wasn’t right.
Domenico forced himself to concentrate on proven facts. The evidence supported Lucy’s guilt yet she was scared of Scarlatti. Had one part of her story been true? Had he tried to force himself on her?
There’d been an avid hunger in Scarlatti’s eyes whenever he’d looked across the courtroom at Lucy. Domenico had noticed immediately, ashamed as he was of his own response to her.
Domenico’s hands clenched so hard he found himself shaking. Could that be it? The idea hollowed his belly.
He wished Scarlatti was here now. Domenico needed an outlet for his churning fury.
* * *
‘Scarlatti no longer works for the Volpe family.’
Lucy spun to find Domenico a few paces away, eyes shaded by wraparound sunglasses. She felt at a disadvantage, wondering what the lenses hid from view.
‘Why not?’
‘He was dismissed years ago. Rocco found evidence that he’d...bothered one of the maids.’
‘Bothered?’ Why wasn’t she surprised? Bruno was a slime ball who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
‘She complained he was pestering her. A bit of digging revealed she wasn’t the first.’
Lucy bit her lip. The temptation to spill her own story about Bruno was strong. But Domenico had heard it in court. He hadn’t believed it then and wouldn’t now. Defeat tasted sour on her tongue.
Why should it matter after all this time that he didn’t believe her? Instead of getting easier to bear, it grew harder.
Nothing had changed. She’d let herself be lulled into believing it had.
Domenico was weakening her, subtly undermining her ability to keep the unsympathetic world at bay.
‘Don’t worry, he’s long gone.’
She nodded. What was there to say?
‘Now, let’s get out on the water.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay ashore.’
‘Why? So you can hide in your room and brood?’
Lucy’s eyes widened. ‘I never hide!’
‘Isn’t that what you’re doing now?’
She knew Domenico’s tactic. He deliberately baited her, yet she couldn’t resist the challenge. The one thing, the only thing she’d had on her side all these years had been her resolute strength. An ability to tough out the worst the criminal justice system could throw at her and pretend it didn’t matter.
She’d forced herself to morph from a scared, desperate teenager into a woman who could look after herself no matter what.
There was more than pride at stake. It was her faith in her one tangible asset—strength in the face of adversity.
Without that, how could she face the future that loomed like a black hole? She had no family now. No friends. No prospects, as each day’s job-hunting proved. If she let herself weaken she’d never survive.
Lucy met Domenico’s gaze, reading anticipation in his stillness. He expected her to make a run for it, damn him.
‘Where’s your boat?’
* * *
Three hours later she was a different woman. The mutinous set of her mouth had eased into a smile that made Domenico’s belly flip over. Her haunted expression had disappeared. Now her eyes shone pure forget-me-not blue, rivalling the sky for brightness.
He’d only once before seen a woman lit from within like this. It had been Lucy then too. Her enthusiasm was contagious.
He shook his head, unable to believe her avid enthusiasm was anything but real this time. There’d been no primping, not even a comb or mirror in the bag she’d brought. No coy looks or subtle feminine blandishments. Her focus had been on the boat and the sensation of speed as they circled the island. Her husky laughter still echoed in his ears. She’d been like a kid on a roller coaster for the first time—delighted and delightful in her glee.
‘Did you see the size of that octopus?’ She surfaced beside him, grinning as she removed the snorkel’s mouthpiece. ‘It’s amazing, and the way it moves!’
‘Do you like octopus? I could catch it for our dinner.’ Like a smitten youth showing off for a pretty girl. Like the man he’d been that first day in Rome. He’d turned from a cabinet of ornate jewellery and fallen into the cerulean depths of her gaze.
Yet even that thought couldn’t dim Domenico’s good mood. He’d enjoyed the last couple of hours more than any he could remember in months.
She was a pleasure to be with. Her questions had stimulated rather than bored him. She’d made him see the place through fresh, appreciative eyes.
How long since he’d enjoyed such simple pleasures? Usually when he visited he was busy, finishing work or entertaining guests who were too sophisticated to get excited about snorkelling or a speedboat ride.
‘No.’ She reached out and put a restraining hand on his shoulder when he would have dived back under. ‘Thank you, but I’d rather you let it be.’
‘Squeamish about seeing your dinner before it appears on your plate?’ He kept his eyes on her face though it was her slim hand on his shoulder that stole his attention.
‘Maybe.’ Her smile turned wistful. ‘Can’t we just leave him alone? Free?’
Something about the way she said that last word made him pause. Was that what she’d enjoyed so much? The freedom of their afternoon on the water?
It struck him that this was a massive change from the restrictions she’d known behind bars. He couldn’t imagine such a life. How had she coped?
He wasn’t in the business of feeling sorry for her. Yet seeing her so different from the touchy, self-protective woman he’d known, Domenico couldn’t completely suppress a sense of connection between them.
His motive in being with her had been to soften her into accepting his deal—her silence for a big chunk of money. But somewhere in the past days he’d found himself wanting her company. He’d told himself he needed to understand the woman who threatened his family, but that wasn’t all. Not any more.
He wanted to be with her. He wanted...
‘In that case we’ll leave it be.’ He looked at the westering sun. ‘It’s time to stop. Come on.’
* * *
Lucy wrapped an oversized beach towel around herself, conscious of Domenico’s gaze lingering as he’d helped her aboard. His eyes had shone silver as he took in the swimsuit moulding her body. It had only been for a second before he’d looked away, but that had ignited a slow, curling heat inside. His look had seared her to the core and shivers still rippled across her skin.
The trouble was, though they were on opposing sides, the old attraction was back, stronger than before.
Worse, she’d begun to like him.
He put her at ease and made her smile, and it wasn’t just about him trying to persuade her to sign his contract. There was the way he was with little Chiara—like an honorary uncle instead of the man who employed half her family. The way he treated Lucy—always straight down the line. The way he’d held her this afternoon.
It scared her how much his concern had meant to her.
‘Why