The Italian's Future Bride(10)

'Please don't do this,' she begged him on the very-very edge of tears now.



He pulled her into the lift. They rode down with him standing there in  front of her, with her wrist still his prisoner and the rest of her  pinned against the lift wall by the steely glitter in his eyes.



'Think about it,' she begged unsteadily. 'You don't want to-'



He swooped and cut the words off the ruthless way, with another open mouthed onslaught that lost her the will to even stand.



But she had to stand. She had to follow where he pulled as they left the  lift and crossed the foyer with a curious security guard looking on.  Then a hard hand pushed open the main doors and Rachel lost the next few  seconds beneath the glare of flashing flickering lights and the  pandemonium of questions that burst out.



His arm was around her shoulders now, hugging her to him and keeping her upright.



'Smile,' he hissed and she smiled like an alien.



Then the words came, those low, smooth accented tones dryly confirming  that no, as they could see, she was not Elise. She was in fact Elise's  beautiful half-sister, Rachel Carmichael.



Then he let drop the big one, by calmly inviting their congratulations because they had just become engaged to be married.



The fake ring was displayed on her finger for the pack to snap to their greedy hearts' content.



How long had they known each other? Where had they met?



He answered all the questions with the relaxed humour of one who had all  the answers, since he was merely duplicating facts from his short  affair with Elise.



Breathing took on a shallow necessity aimed to maintain the fragile beat  of her heart. The rest was a haze, a fog of nothing in which she must  have performed well because no one suggested she was about to pass out  or, worse, that she looked more like a horrified prisoner being hauled  to the gallows than a happily betrothed future bride.



'Now you have what you came for would it be possible that you can do us a favour and leave us in peace?'



So lightly requested, so full of lazy charm. The pack laughed. He turned  her within the iron grip of his arm. Silence hit with a deafening force  as the doors closed with them back inside.



'Congratulations, Mr Villani, Miss Carmichael,' the eavesdropping security guard said with a grin.



If the man holding her clamped to his side said anything in response  then Rachel didn't hear it. She was too busy trying to decide if she was  dizzy with relief because he hadn't thrown her out there to face the  paparazzi alone, or if she was dizzy with fear over what was still to  come.



They travelled back up in the lift. She was in shock. She had been  totally incapacitated by a man locked into his own agenda. An agenda  that involved him seizing control of a situation they-shehad taken away  from him.



His apartment door closed behind them. Rachel shivered. And still the  ordeal did not end there. The arm propelled her down the hall and in  through another door.It closed with a quiet deathly click and only then  did she manage to find the strength to break free.



She had moved three shaky steps before it hit her that this was a  bedroom. A very male bedroom with very masculine items scattered around  it and a very large bed standing out like a threat, with its very dark  plum-coloured linen upon which it was too easy to imprint the solid  frame of a dark-haired honey-skinned man.                       
       
           



       



She turned. He was still by the door and watching her. Not one small  gram of anger had softened from his face. Her skin gave a fizz of  alarm-cum-excitement because, even in anger, the way he was looking at  her was stripping her bare to her quivering skin.



'Why-?' she breathed.



'You wanted my co-operation and you have had it,' he answered. 'Now I  want what I want, and you, Miss Carmichael, are about to pay your dues.'



He started closing the gap between them.



'No.' Rachel shook her head and began backing away. 'I won't let you do this.'



'Oh come on,mi amore ,' he taunted coldly. 'We are betrothed to be  married. You wear my ring on your finger and my impeccably mannered  family is going to try not to be shocked that my bride is wearing  farmers' boots to her wedding and straw to decorate her hair.'



'Very funny,' she muttered, looking about her for an escape.



'They will tread daintily between organic lettuce and-'



'Will you just stop this!' His words might taunt but the rest was now  getting scary. 'Look,' she said quickly. 'I know you are angry-and I  know that you have every right to be.'



'Grazie.'



'Oh, God,' she choked as his hands closed around her waist and the shock  of feeling them there again lit up her skin. 'I'msorry abouteverything,  okay?'



His dark head began to lower. Rachel tried to arch away.



'Your heart is racing.'



'Because you'refrightening me!'



'Or exciting you.'



No, frightening-frightening me!Rachel repeated-though only inside her  head where a strange tumbling darkness was gathering, closing around her  like a cold mist that began to take her legs from beneath her and  brought forth a string of soft tight curses as she began to go limp.



CHAPTER FOUR



SHEcame around to find she was lying on the bed and her head was  pounding. Someone moved close by and she flicked open her eyes as  Raffaelle Villani came to lean over her.



With a startled jerk she tried to get up but he pushed her back down again.



'Be calm,' he said grimly. 'I do not ravish helpless females.'



Well, forgive me for not believing you, she wanted to say but, 'W-what happened to me?' she whispered instead.



'You-fainted.' His mouth tightened as he said that and his eyes were  hooded; in fact his whole face was hidden behind a tightly controlled  mask that did not make Rachel feel any safer. 'You are also very cold.'



It was only as a soft cashmere throw landed across her that she realised she was shivering.



'I should not have taken you outside to meet the press wearing only that dress.'



The press. It all came flooding back like a recurring nightmare and she  closed her eyes again. 'I can't believe you actually did that,' she  whispered unsteadily.



Straightening up,'Mi dispiace ,' he offered stiffly. 'I have no excuse for frightening you as badly as I did.'



'I wasn't talking about you playing the sex maniac!' She sat up and this  time he did not stop her. 'I meant what you just did down there in  front of all those reporters.' She grabbed her dizzy forehead and stared  up at him. 'Have youno idea what it is you've done?'



'I did what I had to do,' he stated coldly.



'Great,' she choked. 'You did what you had to do and managed to escalate this whole thing right out of control!'



'It was out of control long before I became involved. You said as much yourself.'



So she had. 'Well, we are now stuck with a fake betrothal, complete with  a fake ring and all the other fake stuff that is going to come with  it.'



'But your sister's marriage will be safe, which, of course, makes the subterfuge, sacrifice and lies worth it?'



The sarcasm was still alive if the frightening anger had lessened, Rachel heard, and went to get up.



'Stay there,' he commanded, turning to stride towards the door. 'Give yourself chance to-warm up a little and-recover.'



Recover for what? Rachel wondered half hysterically. She was never going  to recover from this awful night for as long as she lived!



Ignoring his command, she moved to sit on the edge of the bed, then sat  trying to calm the sickly swimming sensation still taking place in her  head.



'I have to find a way to get out of here undetected so I can go home,' she mumbled, more to herself than to him.



Still, he heard it and paused at the door. 'Where is home when you are in London?'                       
       
           



       



Usually with Elise but, 'With Mark, right now,' she replied, then  squinted a look at her watch. 'He will be worrying where I am.'



'Not so I noticed,cara ,' he drawled cynically. 'Not that it matters,'  he then dismissed, 'because from now on you will be living right here  with me.'



'I will not!' she gasped out.



He had the door open now. 'If my freedom to choose what I do with my  life has been curtailed, then so has yours,' he declared. 'So, until we  find a way out of this situation which does not involvemy loss of face,  you and I, Miss Carmichael, will in effect be stuck to each other with  glue. So lie down again and get used to it.'



With that he walked out, leaving Rachel gaping at the empty space he'd  last filled with his cold anger, which was just as bad as the hot anger  from before!



'But that's just stupid-!' she fired after him. 'Betrothed people don't have to live together!'



If he heard her he did not come back to argue and, after a second,  Rachel slumped her shoulders where she sat, wondering dully if he didn't  have a point. Now the press wagon was rolling, nothing was going to  stop it in the near future without someone-or all of them-losing face.