Seduced by the Enemy Read online

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, standing up and extending a hand for her to take. ‘We’ll have time to tell your mum about the truth of Damiano’s interference before the pathologist arrives.’

  ‘I read that the pathologists perform HLA typing, like a tissue typing, right?’

  ‘Yes. The closer the match in the HLA types, the better the chance of a successful transplant.’

  ‘And it’ll take about two weeks for the typing to be done?’

  He nodded, glad to be able to concentrate on facts rather than emotions. ‘Two weeks for the initial typing. If it looks good, further high resolution typing takes an additional two to four weeks.’

  Everything was hinging on Olivia being a match. Marjorie was a possibility, but given her age, it’d be better if Olivia was the match. Donors were usually retired off the registry at sixty and Marjorie was sixty-five. But, if there was no other option, Marjorie would be the donor.

  Olivia reached out and put her hand on his arm. ‘Let’s think positive. I’m going to be a match.’

  Chapter 8

  ‘Have you always wanted to be a teacher?’ Luca asked Olivia two weeks later as they sat at a sidewalk café in Rome.

  No. Not always. But, her reasons for becoming a teacher weren’t open for discussion.

  ‘I love kids. It seemed like a career I’d enjoy,’ she hedged.

  For the last hour, she’d been trying to keep the conversation on light, impersonal topics, feigning a greater interest in Italian history than she really felt as they walked around the Colosseum.

  This was the first day she’d ventured out into Rome as a tourist. Every other day she and her mum had spent as much time as possible with Christiana—reading her stories, poring over photo albums of Christiana as she’d been a baby, toddler and preschooler. They’d joined in with games as she’d played with her toys—throwing elaborate tea parties for teddy bears and making some clothes for her dolls. All the activities were reminiscent of Olivia’s own childhood as she’d grown up with Jane. Playing with Jane’s daughter made Olivia feel close to her sister.

  Every other day, Luca had been at his office.

  Yesterday when he’d arrived home, he’d insisted he show Olivia and Marjorie around Rome today. At the last minute, Marjorie had backed-out, saying she was too weary to accompany them and would stay behind and rest. Olivia thought it more likely her mother had decided to play matchmaker. Marjorie had been far less than subtle with her open praise for Luca and made pointed comments about how nice it would be if Christiana had her aunt and uncle to look after her permanently.

  ‘You enjoy your career, then?’ Luca asked.

  Olivia shifted uneasily on her chair and watched the endless swirl of traffic; marvelling at how the scooters zipped in and out between the cars without accident.

  ‘I love teaching.’ In an attempt to redirect the conversation onto him she asked, ‘Have you always wanted to be a multi-billionaire?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied immediately.

  The swift, serious response when she’d been joking made her widen her eyes in surprise. And, when a confident smile spread slowly across his face, her heart somersaulted before thumping an uneven tattoo against her ribcage.

  He was way too self-assured. Way too sexy.

  Such lethally good looks really should be outlawed.

  ‘You’re amazingly sure of yourself,’ she said a little breathlessly.

  The shrug he gave was nonchalant. ‘To achieve in life you must have goals.’

  ‘And now you’ve achieved your goal?’

  He took a long, slow sip of his red wine. ‘Now, there are other goals to achieve.’ He replaced the wine glass on the table.

  ‘Like becoming a multi-trillionaire?’

  Instead of answering, he asked, ‘What about you, Olivia? What are your goals?’

  His dark eyes were too intense, too disturbing, and even though her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, she had to look away. The overpowering feeling he could see right through the darkened lenses and into her soul, recognising her dreams and her fears, was most disconcerting.

  ‘You’ve already helped me realise one of my goals.’ She glanced down at the red and white checked napkin scrunched between her fingers. ‘You’ve made my mother happy again.’

  ‘Marjorie looks about ten years younger than she did when I first met her.’

  Olivia nodded. ‘You’re right.’

  Her mum had been devastated when she’d learned the truth about the circumstances surrounding Jane’s death, but she’d thanked Luca for his honesty and told him he was a man of integrity. When Olivia had checked on her in her room later, Marjorie had been crying but pulled herself together, declared she’d grieved enough and was going to continue to embrace the positives of having Christiana in her life.

  Olivia was grateful for her mum’s new-found strength. ‘Some mornings I used to have to almost bully her out of bed. Now, she’s up before me and has far more energy than I’ve seen in years.’

  ‘You’re both working wonders with Christiana too.’

  It was true. Christiana was looking better—more animated—and she loved spending time with her aunt and grandmother. They hadn’t broached the subject of how they came to be her grandmother and aunt. Luca had suggested they leave the topic until she asked directly, and Olivia and Marjorie were content with his decision for now.

  Luca’s fingers tugged the napkin free from her fingers and placed it on the table out of her reach. ‘What about goals for you?’ he pressed.

  This was too personal and she squirmed a little on her chair as she tried to formulate a general reply.

  ‘Back in Sydney I was very happy going to school every day. I tried to make the whole learning experience as positive and enjoyable as possible for my students.’

  ‘That’s commendable, but what about your painting?’

  Whoa! Her painting? Why was he going there?

  He was leading the conversation into an area she didn’t want to contemplate and she had to school herself to keep her voice toneless and not snap at him as she replied, ‘Painting was something I used to do. It’s not a part of my life anymore.’

  His steady regard continued as he reclined against the backrest of his chair. She sensed he wasn’t going to let it go.

  With each passing second her stress escalated. Despite the outward veneer of calm he projected, and she tried to maintain, tension pulsed in the atmosphere between them.

  ‘You mentioned briefly during one of our conversations how you were organising an exhibition. Your mother told me you have amazing talent.’

  She tried to laugh it off. ‘Isn’t that what all mothers want to believe of their children?’

  ‘Marjorie told me you won a couple of highly prestigious national awards as an art student, and that the exhibition you were organising was to be held at the National Gallery. Those accolades speak of talent. What made you turn your back on it?’

  ‘I decided to teach instead.’ When she heard the abruptness of her voice she tried to smooth it over with a shrug. ‘End of story.’

  ‘You became a teacher after Jane died?’

  Why wouldn’t he let the topic drop?

  ‘Why are you so interested?’

  ‘I’m trying to get to know you.’

  It seemed innocuous enough, but he had no idea how much he was needling a sensitive area. She attempted a casual smile. ‘Well, I teach now. There’s nothing more to know, really.’

  ‘I sense there’s a lot more to know—especially about why you left a highly promising career in art. The more you refuse to talk to me about it, the more curious I become.’

  ‘I’m surprised you haven’t hired a private investigator to try to dig into our backgrounds.’

  ‘You obviously read too much fiction. Apart from considering such an action to be disrespectful, I’d rather know about you from you. I’d like to think I’ve learned my lesson in thinking I know someone because of what I’ve heard about them from some
one else.’

  She let out a pent-up breath. ‘Do you ever give up?’

  ‘Not if I want something badly enough,’ he said simply, and she knew he spoke the truth.

  It was useless trying to avoid this personal conversation when he was so hell-bent on pursuing it. Everything in his demeanour advertised he was a man used to getting people to conform to his wishes. Sheer doggedness might well be the reason behind his incredibly successful business empire, but he was re-opening her old wounds and it was too painful to go there.

  ‘We’re supposed to be friends now, Olivia. What have you got against telling me a little bit about yourself?’

  His request was simple enough on the surface but she couldn’t think about her painting rationally. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could ever truly regard Luca as her friend. No longer was he her enemy, but—as much as she tried to deny it—she was way too aware of him as a man to ever be able to fall into a comfortable friendship with him.

  These last two weeks, seeing him interacting so wonderfully with Christiana, had completely shattered the last remnant of resentment she’d harboured towards him. He was so good with Jane’s daughter—so warm and loving—it made her wonder what he’d be like with his own children. And, as she’d fallen asleep at night, she’d wondered what he’d be like as a lover.

  Oh Lord. There was no doubt in her mind he’d be sensational. The unguarded part of her admitted she wanted to find out how sensational.

  He sat forward in his chair. ‘Please?’ he asked with a disarming quirk of one eyebrow.

  Olivia only just managed to stifle a gasp because her instant reaction was to follow the line of her own thoughts and believe he was pleading with her to let him become her lover.

  Oh dear. Heat spread right up from her toes to her cheeks.

  ‘I want to know more about you, Olivia.’

  Right.

  They were supposed to be friends and she’d better remember that was all they were supposed to be before she completely lost the plot and totally embarrassed herself by blurting out something inane or throwing herself into his arms and leaving him in no doubt she found him incredibly desirable.

  ‘So, tell me how you went from being an artist to becoming a teacher,’ he insisted.

  It had to be done. He wasn’t going to let it go.

  The small groan she made was pure frustration, but at least if she was talking about her career transition she wouldn’t be allowing her thoughts to wander into the dangerous, forbidden territory of fantasising about Luca as her lover.

  ‘Soon after Jane and Dad died, Mum was in an accident.’ She plucked absently at the edge of the tablecloth with her fingers as she spoke.

  He nodded. ‘Your mother told me.’

  Unjustifiably annoyed at his revelation, Olivia wondered what else her mother had told Luca. He and her mother had become awfully close in a very short time.

  ‘I took a year off everything to help Mum with her rehabilitation, then I started back at university and did a twelve month course to get my teaching diploma.’

  Luca raised an arm to wave a pigeon away as it prepared to land on their table. ‘And you’ve been teaching since?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said in a clipped voice as she reached out for her own wine glass. ‘Mum’s probably already told you that too, has she?’

  ‘She told me you were about to be married the week after Jane died.’

  Olivia froze. The hand she held out in the act of reaching for her wine glass stopped mid-action, only centimetres away from the glass. Almost in slow motion, she took her eyes off the glass and lifted her gaze to him.

  ‘That’s ancient history.’ Her voice was as frosty as Arctic waters.

  ‘I enjoy ancient history,’ he challenged. His tone was in complete contrast to hers. It was warm, encouraging and surprisingly gentle.

  She forced her hand to grasp the stem of the wine glass instead of hovering mid-air. But, instead of raising the glass to her lips, her fingers tightened around the stem until her knuckles turned white.

  ‘If you enjoy ancient history, you live in the right country for it.’ Her smile was tight. ‘You’ll never run out of things to learn about Rome’s history.’

  ‘I find I’m learning new things all the time.’

  ‘Well, I’ve answered a question. Now, it’s your turn.’

  He sent her a considering look before he agreed. ‘Okay.’

  ‘You said you walked away from your father when you were eighteen. How did you get to be so successful in your own right?’

  ‘Sheer bloody determination and hard work.’

  ‘Oh no. That’s not good enough. Details, please.’

  ‘I went to London and got a job as a labourer. I made friends with two other guys—Nick and Max. We were all labourers and we attended night classes to become builders. Before long, we approached a bank for a loan to start up our own building company.’

  ‘I’m guessing the Borghetti name helped there.’

  ‘Wrong,’ he said tightly. ‘I had to keep the whole thing quiet because I knew my father wouldn’t want me to get a loan and succeed.’ When she looked at him wide-eyed, he explained. ‘He wanted me to go grovelling back to him cap in hand. If I’d carved out my own success he knew that’d be less likely to happen. I’m sure if he’d known what I was planning, he’d have used his power with the banks and had the loan denied.’

  ‘Geez.’ Knowing what she did about Damiano it shouldn’t surprise her. ‘Obviously you succeeded in getting the loan.’

  ‘Si. My two friends got the loan and made me their silent partner. We employed the right people—people who were far more experienced than we were in the building industry—and all three of us worked almost around the clock for the first couple of years. Within fifteen months, we’d paid the bank back and had more lucrative contracts for hotels and shopping malls coming our way than we could handle, so we had to do a major expansion of our company.’

  ‘Your father didn’t find out and try to sour the deals?’

  ‘As a silent partner, I flew under the radar. Max and Nick fronted all the tender meetings and kept my part-ownership of the company quiet. If Damiano had made any investigations, I was on the company payroll as a labourer.’

  ‘My God you Borghetti men are sneaky!’ she exclaimed, but there was no sting in the accusation.

  ‘It was the only way I could survive against my father’s possible interference.’

  ‘So, you’re a builder.’

  ‘We are all still partners in the original construction company, which has now globalised, but we also realised we’d need more financial interests if there was an economic downturn. We secured huge maintenance contracts as a division of the original company and then each of us began to do a lot of investment on the stock exchange. I ended up buying a few manufacturing companies and even bought up some tourist resorts and boutique hotels. Max and Nick also diversified and became as successful in their own rights.’

  ‘Did you take over any of your father’s hotels?’

  ‘No. I had no wish to antagonise him and nothing to prove.’

  She nodded in admiration of his words. She’d love to ask him why he wasn’t married, but her question would raise the subject of marriage again and she had no desire to spotlight her failure on that front.

  ‘My turn again,’ he told her.

  She steeled herself for the question. ‘There are some things in my past I don’t want to speak about.’

  ‘Then we’ll focus on your future.’ Even though she wore sunglasses, he snared her eyes in his gaze. ‘You’ve said you love children and I know you’re twenty-seven. Do you want to be married and have children of your own one day, Olivia?’

  Shit. That was way too personal.

  ‘Maybe,’ she answered evasively. Shakily, she pushed her chair back and got to her feet before he could probe any deeper. ‘You know, I think we should go home and call the doctor to get the results back from the preliminary matching tests. The two w
eeks was up yesterday. I’m sure he told us he was going to have the results back by then.’

  ***

  Luca bit down on an inward curse as she steered the conversation right onto the topic he’d wanted to avoid today. The topic which had become an all-important one.

  ‘Sometimes these things take a little longer than expected.’ He cultivated a tone meant to soothe her concerns. ‘I’m sure we’ll know about the results in another couple of days.’

  ‘But, every day is precious and I’m hanging on the edge of my seat waiting for these results. All day yesterday, I expected you to come home from the office with the news, and while it’s been lovely playing tourist today, I was hoping I’d be sitting in a clinic somewhere having the second round of compatibility tests.’

  Merda!

  For a few seconds he broke eye contact with her as guilt lodged in his solar plexus.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me how important each day is. I’m all too aware of the clock ticking and of the limited number of options available for Christiana.’

  ‘Of course you are. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.’

  The options had dwindled more than she realised, but there was another possibility—one he was considering seriously.

  ‘I know you’re doing everything you can to help our niece.’

  Everything you can.

  The words pushed him further down the path he was contemplating.

  ‘I love watching you interact with her,’ she told him. ‘It’s obvious you both love each other to bits.’

  ‘She loves you and Marjorie as well.’ He looked at her closely as he probed, ‘I’m sure you’d do anything in your power as well to help her recover from this leukaemia.’

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed easily, completely unaware of the importance of her answer. ‘And, speaking of our mutual niece, I think it’s time we returned to her.’

  ‘She’ll be having a wonderful time with your mother.’

  ‘Yes, but we’ve been out for hours and I feel the need to get back to her.’

  He was treading dangerous waters. He needed to reinforce the easy friendship that’d sprung up between them but was also growing increasingly attracted to her. Ever since she’d arrived in Rome, he’d wanted to make their relationship deeper. Now, he not only wanted it to happen but he needed it to happen. At times he sensed she was attracted to him but he wasn’t sure how ready she was emotionally for another relationship.