Invitation from the Venetian Billionaire by Lucy King

CHAPTER TWO

WHILE CARLAHADbeen making her way over, buzzing with a surge of adrenaline that wiped out her weariness and put a bounce in her step, a number of options with regard to the identity and purpose of the stranger lurking in the shadows had spun through her mind.

He was a curious neighbour, maybe. A paparazzo with pound signs in his eyes. Or something a tad more sinister, perhaps. Finn was a billionaire who owed a string of hotels, restaurants and nightclubs. Some kind of personal attack wasn’t out of the question. Josh was tiny and precious and the threat of a kidnapping was real.

Never in a million years would she have guessed the truth. It was almost unbelievable. But not quite, because that this individual, this Federico Rossi, was one of Finn’s long-lost brothers was undeniable.

He had to be.

They were identical.

Well, almost identical.

They might share eye and hair colour and possess the same imposing breadth of shoulders and towering height, but Finn didn’t have the scar that featured on this man’s face. His nose had never been broken and no accent tinged his English. Finn too lacked the deep tan, and sharp angles and hard lines in the bone structure department. Other than all that, though, the likeness was uncanny.

So why the man falling in beside her as she turned and set off on a discreet route back to the house should have triggered such an unexpected and intense reaction inside her when all she felt for Finn was a vague sort of fondness, Carla had no idea.

Was it the lazy confidence? The deep, gravelly, insanely sexy voice? The air of danger and the accompanying notion that, despite the laid-back exterior, Federico Rossi was a man who did and took what he wanted when he wanted and to hell with the consequences?

Whatever it was, once she’d got over her shock at his obvious identity, she’d experienced a jolt of an entirely different kind. He’d smiled at her, a slow, smouldering, stomach-melting smile, and a rush of heat had stormed through her, igniting her nerve endings and setting fire to her blood. His intense navy gaze had roamed all over her, and in its wake tiny explosions had detonated beneath her skin. By the time he’d finished his leisurely yet thorough perusal of her entire body, desire had been pounding through her and for one brief, mad moment she’d wanted to press herself up against him and seal her mouth to his.

But then some tiny nugget of self-preservation, recognising what was going on as attraction of the most lethal and inadvisable kind, to be neither entertained nor underestimated, had burst into her consciousness and she’d taken a sharp step back from the brink of madness while wondering what on earth she’d been thinking.

Everything about this man, every instinct she had, urged her to proceed with utmost caution, and that was exactly what she was going to do because she got the feeling that he wasn’t to be entertained or underestimated either.

When it came to the opposite sex she never allowed her emotions to run riot and dictate her actions. She’d done so once before, as an affection-starved teenager who thought she’d found love where she absolutely hadn’t, and that was enough. If Rico Rossi could threaten the iron-clad control she kept on her feelings with just a smile, he could be beyond dangerous, and she had zero interest in prodding the beast.

She did, however, have an interest in keeping him away from Finn and Georgie’s guests, who by now were presumably having lunch but couldn’t fail to be curious should he march straight into the party, the spitting image of their host, only dressed in faded blue jeans and a black polo shirt instead of a suit. So she’d deposit him in the study and then go in search of Finn to impart the surprising yet excellent news that one of his brothers had turned up, and from that moment on she need have nothing to do with him directly ever again.

‘So you know my name,’ he said, shortening his stride to match hers, a move that put him so close she caught a trace of his scent—male, spicy, dizzyingly intoxicating—so close she could reach out and touch him should she wish to do so, which she very definitely did not. ‘What’s yours?’

‘Carla Blake.’

‘Carla,’ he echoed, rolling the ‘r’ around his mouth in a way that sent an involuntary shiver rippling down her spine.

‘That’s right,’ she said with a brisk nod, deciding to inhale through her mouth and keep her eyes ahead to lessen his impact on her senses while upping her pace so that they might reach their destination that little bit quicker.

‘And this party?’

‘A christening. Your nephew’s, probably. I’m a godparent. Georgie is my best friend. She’s Josh’s mother and, I’d hazard a guess, your sister-in-law.’

‘A family occasion,’ he muttered in a way that suggested he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, which was no concern of hers.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a beautiful day for it.’

‘Indeed it is.’

‘It’s a beautiful day for many things.’

‘Such as?’

‘Making new acquaintances.’

‘Your brother and his family?’

‘I actually meant you, tesoro.’

In response to the slight deepening of his voice and the hint of silky seduction that accompanied his words, Carla’s stomach tightened while heat flooded her veins.

Was he flirting with her?

Feeling strangely trembly inside, she glanced over at him to find him looking back at her, the intensity of the heat she saw in his glittering gaze nearly knocking her off her heels.

‘I have plenty of acquaintances,’ she said, a lot more breathlessly than she’d have preferred.

‘Any like me?’

Attractive enough to turn her into a puddle of insensibility and lay siege to her control? In possession of a smile that commanded her attention against her will and rendered her all hot and quivery? Thankfully, no. ‘One or two.’

The expression on his face now suggested he didn’t believe her and that knowing arrogance—even if he was spot-on with that assumption—was enough to blast the sense back into her.

Enough was enough, she told herself sternly as she led him towards an arch in the hedge. The reaction going on inside her was ridiculous. She didn’t do flustered. Ever. She was cool in a crisis. She was the eye of the storm. She was not a pulsating mass of desire, completely at the mercy of her hormones, no matter how great the provocation.

‘What are you doing when the party’s over?’ he asked, standing aside to let her pass through the arch ahead of him.

‘Going home and crashing out,’ she replied, taking great care not to let any part of her body touch any part of his on her way.

Rico ducked his head and followed her through onto the stretch of gravel that led to the house. ‘That doesn’t sound like much fun.’

‘Perhaps not.’

‘I can think of far more entertaining things to be getting up to.’

As if on cue, before she could even think to prevent it, her head filled with images of Rico grabbing her arm right now, drawing her into the shadows, pulling her into a tight embrace and lowering his head to give her a mind-blowing kiss while she pressed eagerly against him.

‘I don’t doubt it,’ she said tightly, grinding her teeth in frustration as the gravel crunched beneath her feet and her body temperature rocketed. ‘Nevertheless, it’s what I’m doing.’

‘How about dinner?’

‘Toast,’ she said bluntly. ‘I may go wild and smash an avocado to have with it.’

‘I meant you having it with me.’

‘I know you did.’

‘Well?’

She shook her head decisively and set her sights on the door in the side wall of the house. ‘I think not.’

‘Another evening, then.’

‘No.’

‘Are you married?’

‘No.’

‘Boyfriend?’

‘No.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Not my thing.’

‘Then why not?’

She gave the door a shove to open it and marched in. ‘Do I have to have a reason?’

‘Don’t you?’ he said, sounding genuinely curious and at the same time impossibly conceited.

Well, no, of course she didn’t have to, although obviously she did. Rico’s invitation to dinner might be shockingly and appallingly tempting, despite her attempts to convince herself otherwise, but she knew first-hand the risk confident, self-assured men like him posed. How all-consuming and seductive they could be. She knew what it was like to succumb to the power and charm until you no longer knew what was right and what was wrong. To lose your identity along with your inhibitions. To be persuaded to make unwise choices and to believe that you were happy about making them.

She had no intention of making the same mistake twice. She was more than content with the steady, careful, safe life she’d created for herself. She would allow nothing to upset it. Never again would she be rendered powerless, vulnerable and helpless by a man. Never again would she be manipulated into willingly giving up her freedom and her independence, things she hadn’t had the maturity then to value.

‘Does anyone ever turn you down?’ she asked, having no intention of telling him any of that and determinedly suppressing the memories of the distant but nevertheless frightening and confusing year she’d been groomed.

‘No,’ he said, closing the door behind him and easily keeping up with her as she strode through the house. ‘But that’s irrelevant and I’m not into games. You find me as attractive as I find you, bellissima. Dinner could prove interesting.’

His compliment made her shudder, as compliments from men—so often used with the expectation of something in return—always did, but she suppressed that too and focused. Dinner could prove disastrous and it wasn’t going to happen. She would never be up for the sort of fun Rico offered, no matter how tantalisingly packaged. ‘Find someone else to seduce.’

‘I don’t want to seduce anyone else. I want to seduce you.’

‘I’d have thought you’d have other things on your mind at the moment.’ Like, say, a new-found brother.

‘I excel at multitasking.’

This time, thank God, she did manage to stifle the images of exactly how he might excel at multitasking that instantly tried to muscle their way into her head. ‘My answer is still, and always will be, no.’

Without missing a step, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a card and handed it to her. ‘Here’s my number just in case you change your mind.’

‘I won’t,’ she said, taking it to dispose of it later, since there wasn’t a bin to hand.

‘You wound me.’

‘You’ll recover.’ She stopped at the study, opened the door and stood back. ‘Here we are,’ she said, practically drowning with relief at finally being able to escape the dangerously sensuous web he was spinning around her with the intensity of his focus and the persistence of his pursuit. ‘Wait in there. I’ll go and find Finn. Once he’s got over his shock, he’s going to bethrilled you’ve turned up. He’s been looking for you for months. Family is everything to him. This is going to be life-changing. So don’t you dare go anywhere.’

As he listened to the sharp tap of Carla’s heels marching across the polished oak floorboards of the hall, loud at first but fading with every step she took away from him, Rico had no doubt that he would indeed recover from her declination of his invitation to dinner.

Whatever it was that was slashing through him would ease soon enough. Pique, most probably, since generally he barely had to make any effort at all when after a date. It certainly couldn’t be disappointment that he wouldn’t be getting to know the stunningly beautiful, incredibly sexy Carla Blake better. He didn’t do disappointment. Or regret. Or any kind of emotion, for that matter. It was of no concern to him why she’d chosen to ignore the chemistry they shared, even though she hadn’t denied that she found him as attractive as he did her when he’d mentioned it.

Besides, she wasn’t that intriguing. Stunning, yes, but their conversation, while mildly entertaining, had hardly been scintillating. He knew plenty of women who would be only too happy to while away the hours with him without engaging in any kind of conversation at all.

So it wouldn’t take long for the sting of her rejection to fade, or the impact of her on his senses. Or the curve of her mouth that made him ache to know what she tasted like...the magnetic pull of her heat and her scent...the prickly obstinacy that fired his blood in a way it hadn’t ever burned before...

In fact, it already was dissipating, and now, as he stood alone in the cool quiet of the study, taking in his surroundings while in the distance he could hear the faint clink of cutlery against crockery, the pop of a cork and the hum of chatter, with the pleasant diversion of Carla gone, his earlier unease returned tenfold.

Everywhere he looked he saw photos. On the desk, on the shelves, on the walls. Of the man who could be his double bar the scar and the broken nose, sometimes wrapped around a beautiful brunette, sometimes with a small child, mostly with both. In all of them, everyone was either smiling or laughing, clearly relaxed and happy, a tightly knit trio of emotions, history and belonging, and the closer and longer he looked, the greater the roll of his stomach and the chillier the shivers that ran down his spine.

He had no concept of such things. Living on the streets as an adolescent for four years had taught him that emotions rendered a man weak and vulnerable. They led to manipulation and exploitation, not intimacy and connection. As he understood, relationships involved attachment and commitment, compromise and understanding, none of which he’d ever experienced. They were for other people, not him, which was why Carla’s reference to further potential relatives, the nephew and the sister-in-law, not to mention the nature of the occasion today, a family occasion, had unexpectedly knocked him for six.

He and this brother of his might look similar, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that DNA was the only thing they had in common. Judging by the photographs before him they certainly didn’t share a temperament. Finn’s eyes lacked the hard cynicism Rico knew lurked in the depths of his own, and the fine lines fanning out from the corner of them suggested Finn knew how to laugh and mean it. His brother wasn’t a loner who preferred the shadows to the limelight. He had family. Friends. A life full of laughter and joy.

They’d evidently had very different experiences of growing up, quite apart from geography. Finn’s relaxed, content exterior clearly didn’t hide a great, gaping void where his soul should be. He couldn’t have spent his formative years fighting for survival, sleeping with one eye open and scavenging for food in order to stave off the kind of hunger that made you hallucinate. And had Finn ever found himself part of a gang as a kid, searching for somewhere to belong, somewhere where he counted, only to be forced to do things he didn’t want to do and badly let down by people in whom he’d impulsively and unwisely put his trust? It didn’t seem likely.

It had been a mistake to make this trip here, Rico thought darkly, a frown creasing his forehead as he shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked over to the window in an attempt to escape the photos and the inexplicable resentment and jealousy he could feel brewing at the injustice of his and Finn’s very different upbringings. A mistake to allow himself to be recklessly driven by an intuition he didn’t understand to such an extent that he’d rashly dismissed the advice of his doctors to stay put and had ordered his plane that he had on permanent standby at the airport in Venice to be readied instead.

He’d acted on instinct and hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the ramifications. But, with hindsight, he should have because Carla’s parting comment that Finn had been searching for him for months and that he’d be thrilled to have found him made his scalp prickle and his stomach churn. He wasn’t interested in a sentimental reunion or a prolonged catch-up on the last thirty-one years, in back-slapping hugs and the swapping of life stories. The mere thought of engaging in a You like chess? So do I! You’re a billionaire? So am I! kind of conversation punched the air from his lungs and drained the blood from his brain.

He didn’t need anyone, least of all a sibling he’d known nothing about his entire life. He never had. Family might mean everything to Finn but Rico didn’t know what it meant, full stop. Not now. He’d spent most of his life alone and he was used to it that way. He was dependent on no one and had no one dependent on him. The only person he trusted was himself and should he ever be let down now he had only himself to blame.

He didn’t belong here, in a beautiful home among beautiful people who led beautiful lives that didn’t deserve to be sullied by his darkness. He didn’t belong anywhere. He never would. So he had nothing to gain from actually meeting Finn. Carla had already confirmed the suspicion he’d come to investigate for himself. He’d done what he’d felt compelled to do. He didn’t need to hang around any longer to find out more and feel the embers of resentment and jealousy flaring into a hot, fiery burn that would scorch and destroy what little good was left in him.

In fact, if he took control of events and left right now, he could be in the air in half an hour. He’d be home by dark. And once there, he could set about resuming the life he’d led before the accident and forget that today had ever happened.

‘What do you mean, he’s gone?’

At the table beneath the gazebo, now cleared of lunch and instead spread with everything needed for the provision of coffee and tea, Carla stared at Georgie open-mouthed, the party and the guests milling about outside all but forgotten.

‘Exactly that,’ Georgie replied quietly, her face filled with confusion and worry. ‘Federico Rossi is nowhere to be seen. Finn’s just spent twenty minutes scouring the house and the grounds. He couldn’t find him anywhere.’

Noting that her hand was trembling slightly, Carla carefully put down her coffee cup. ‘I put him in the study and asked him to wait,’ she said, a chill of apprehension and dismay running down her spine. ‘He couldn’t have just left.’

‘I think he must have done.’

‘No note?’

‘No nothing,’ said Georgie with a shake of her head. ‘Did he give any indication he might leg it?’

Carla racked her brains, the conversation they’d had spinning through her head and filling her with shame, since it should have been about Finn but instead had been all about her. ‘No.’

‘So why did he go?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘I wish he’d never come here in the first place,’ Georgie muttered, her expression hardening. ‘To dangle a carrot of hope like that and then whip it away... Why would anyone do that? How could he be so cruel? Why wasn’t he interested in getting to know Finn? Or me and Josh? What’s wrong with us? I’d sort of already slotted him into our lives if that makes sense—a relative, a real relative, who could maybe join us for Christmas and birthdays and things—and it was going to be so great.’ She gave a big sigh. ‘I’m such an idiot.’

Georgie was the last person in this scenario who was an idiot, thought Carla, her heart beginning to thump as the truth dawned on her. She was the one who’d been an idiot. And not only that, but also a shockingly and appallingly self-centred one.

Under any other circumstance she’d have considered every possible consequence of leaving Rico alone in Finn’s study. She’d have weighed up what she’d learned about him, however little, and assessed the risks. Doing precisely that was part of her job, a job she’d had for the best part of a decade and supposedly excelled at.

But she hadn’t. She’d fled without a moment’s thought because she’d been too desperate to escape his overwhelming effect on her to think straight. For the first time in years, despite her recognition of the danger he presented, she’d let her emotions get the better of her and dictate her actions, and as a result she’d ruined everything.

What if her parting comments had been the trigger? What if Rico had been spooked by her insistence about the importance of family and her claim about how pleased Finn would be to meet him? She’d noticed his discomfort at the idea of a family occasion. If she hadn’t been so derailed by her need to get away from him she’d have been more considered with her words.

‘I should have locked him in,’ she said, the weight of guilt and self-reproach crushing her like a rock on her chest. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Georgie darkly. ‘It’s his.’

‘How’s Finn?’

‘Completely gutted.’

‘That’s understandable,’ said Carla, feeling sick at the realisation of how thoughtless and self-absorbed she’d been and how badly she’d let her friends down.

‘Maybe he just needs more time.’

‘It’s possible.’

‘And what else can we do but wait and see if he gets back in touch at some point?’ said Georgie with a helpless shrug that cut Carla to the quick. ‘It’s not as if he left any contact details. All we can do is give Alex what we have and let her get on with it.’

Yes, they could indeed do that. With a new name to add to the mix, no doubt Alex Osborne of Osborne Investigations, hired by Finn to track down his biological family, would be able to unearth no end of information. But she’d only be able to find the facts. Carla could probably do better than that.

Because Georgie was wrong.

Rico had left his number.

He’d handed her his card, which she’d intended to toss into the bin where it belonged but had put in her bag instead.

Why, she had no idea, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she had a way of contacting him, which was excellent because she wasn’t having any of this. She wasn’t having Finn and, by extension, Georgie devastated by anyone. Georgie’s pain was her pain, and her best friend meant far too much to her to let it lie. She owed Georgie quite possibly her life.

Carla had been only fifteen when she’d fallen into the clutches of a man twice her age, who’d spotted an opportunity to prey on a naïve, vulnerable teenager and taken it. Starved of attention and affection by her parents, desperate to have proof that her love for them was returned and not getting it, she’d willingly been swallowed up by his flattering interest and the close emotional bond he’d deliberately and maliciously created. She hadn’t questioned his requests to send him increasingly explicit pictures. She hadn’t noticed she was becoming more and more isolated. When he’d finally persuaded her to run away with him she’d thought herself so sophisticated, so mature, so in love. She’d been so excited and such a fool. If it hadn’t been for Georgie, who hadn’t given up on her even when she’d been truly horrible, who’d eventually managed to come to her rescue, things could have turned out very differently.

Carla still didn’t trust compliments and emotional intimacy. She still found it hard not to instinctively question men’s interest in her and her ability to judge what was healthy when it came to relationships and what wasn’t, which was why she tended to steer well clear of them, opting for short, casual flings instead. But at least, thanks to her best friend, she’d regained her self-confidence and self-esteem. At least she knew that what had happened hadn’t been her fault and believed it.

Her abuser’s previous victim hadn’t been so fortunate. After the trial that saw him locked away for five years it had been revealed that Carla wasn’t the only girl he’d preyed on. His first victim had been groomed in the same way, only she hadn’t escaped. When she’d become too old for him and he’d left her, she’d been so messed up she’d taken an overdose and died.

Without Georgie, that could easily have been Carla’s fate, so there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her. They might not share any DNA, but they were sisters in every way that counted. In fact, they were closer than many of the pairs of actual siblings she knew.

So, whatever her personal feelings about Rico Rossi, Carla could help. She wanted to. And not only that. She needed to fix the mistakes she’d made today. Rico had invited her out for dinner and she’d accept. She’d use the occasion to try and change his mind about meeting his brother. Failing that, she’d mine him for information that she could then pass back to Finn in the hope it might give him at least some comfort. It wasn’t a brilliant plan, but it was a start.

She could ignore the effect he had on her, she told herself, determination setting her jaw as it all came together in her head. Now she’d had some breathing space she could see that she’d overreacted earlier. He posed no threat. He was just a man. A devastatingly attractive one, sure, but she was immune to that. She had no interest in the hypnotic blue of his eyes and the way they seemed to look right into her, and she’d certainly soon forget how well his body filled out his clothes and the easy confidence with which he moved.

She was no longer an innocent teenager yearning for adventure and love, wild, gullible and ripe for the picking. She was older, savvier, stronger, and well able to withstand any attempt at seduction Rico might be foolish enough to make, especially if she reinforced the control she wielded over her emotions so that it was unbreakable. She was tenacious and focused when it came to a goal and, at the end of the day, it was only dinner.

‘I might have an idea,’ she said to Georgie, the need to put things right for the people she cared so much about now burning like a living flame inside her. ‘Leave it with me.’