Read Online The Mediterranean Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain by Abby Green - Free Book Online Page B

save so many lives.
    But she was home now. That was what mattered. Tying her hair back with a band, she was walking towards the bathroom when a knock sounded on the door just feet away. Immediately and for no good reason, Alicia’s heart started to pound. She glanced quickly down at herself—faded loose pyjama bottoms, an old threadbare sweatshirt. She was presentable enough for the postman or a neighbour.
    But it was neither when she opened the door. It was Dante D’Aquanni, the man she’d imagined to be firmly ensconsed back in his palatial, idyllic villa, no doubt thankful to have her out of his hair.
    She blinked up at him. He looked gorgeous and devastating in another dark suit. ‘You…’
    â€˜Yes. Me.’ His glance flickered down her body and her bare feet curled into the carpet.
    â€˜What are you doing here? Why aren’t you gone?’ Her hand gripped the door.
    â€˜Aren’t you going to ask me in?’
    What choice did she have? She moved back to allow him through and the sheer size of him as he passed her made her legs feel weak. He even had to duck his head. The apartment was like a doll’s house with him in it.
    She closed the door. He was looking around, taking in the bare furnishings, the photos of the smiling sisters, a few books on the shelves. When he looked at Alicia he could see something flare in her eyes and her chin tilt up defiantly. He recognized that look because he’d seen it before—on himself. It was a look that said, We may not have much but it’s ours…mine. The immediate empathy he felt surprised him; he covered it up. And also covered up the way her sleep-flushed face made him want to reach out…touch her cheek. Touch more than her cheek.
    Alicia tried to remain calm, not to allow the tremor she felt develop into uncontrollable shaking. He was obviously just here to reiterate that she and Melanie would be getting nothing. To make sure she didn’t go to the papers. To tell her to keep her sister away from Paolo. And right then, despite her recent misgivings, she vowed that if he did, she’d fight him tooth and nail. Because even if he wasn’t the father, Paolo, his brother was, whether he chose to believe it or not. She was prepared to accept that Dante wouldn’t pay, but he couldn’t separate Paolo and Melanie now. And, assuming he’d meant the marriage proposal, Melanie would need Paolo’s support desperately, although she’d have to leave that to Melanie to discuss with him…Alicia’s head started to pound. Why did everything have to be so complicated?
    Dante slid his gaze up and down. It turned mocking.
    â€˜Don’t you own one fitted garment with its colours still intact?’
    Stung, and hating herself for it because she didn’t normally give two hoots about her appearance, Alicia asked sweetly, ‘What? Haven’t you heard that the messy-chic look is in?’ She cocked her hip and gestured with a hand. ‘If you open the magazines they’re all wearing these clothes.’
    Then pride made her straighten her spine. ‘There isn’t much call for high fashion among the refugee tents in Africa, Signore D’Aquanni. But, as I doubt we’re ever likely to move in the same circles, you shouldn’t have to endure my wardrobe insulting your sensibilities. Now, I’m sure you haven’t lowered yourself to come here to discuss my lack of style.’
    His eyes narrowed on her for a long moment. ‘So you did work in Africa then?’
    Alicia tensed so much she thought she might break. ‘Yes. For a year.’
    He passed a look over her that patently said he put her claim under serious doubt and then, to her surprise, he took off his jacket and sat down on the couch. It was a three-seater but he practically took up the whole thing.
    â€˜Actually, Alicia, your style or lack of it is one of the things that will come up for discussion. Now,