The Ultimate Risk Read online

  Lanzo ushered her into a cool marble-floored hall, and Gina caught her breath when he pushed open the double doors in front of them to reveal a huge lounge, with glass walls on all three sides offering spectacular views over the bay.

  ‘Wow! This is stunning,’ she murmured, glancing around at the pale walls and furnishings in muted shades of blue and taupe. Elegant and sophisticated, the villa managed to combine style with comfort, and it felt much homely than his apartment in Rome.

  ‘This is my home,’ he told her when she said as much. He smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘Come on—I’ll give you a guided tour.’

  An open spiral stairway at one end of the villa led to the upper floors, where many windows allowed light to stream in, giving glimpses of the sea from almost every part of the house.

  ‘It’s huge; I’ve counted five bedrooms, and there’s still another floor above us,’ Gina commented. ‘Don’t you find it rather a big house for one person?’

  ‘I’m not alone here very often,’ he said carelessly.

  ‘No … I don’t suppose you are.’ Her steps faltered, jealousy burning like acid in the pit of her stomach as she thought of all the other women he must have brought here, and all the others he would bring in the future, after she had been consigned to the metaphorical graveyard of his ex-mistresses.

  Lanzo wondered if she knew how expressive her face was. Probably not, he mused. Gina went to great efforts to act cool with him—except for in bed, where she responded to him with gratifying eagerness. He skimmed his gaze over her, noting the expert cut of her cream skirt and jacket, which emphasised her gorgeous curves, and he felt the predictable tug of sexual anticipation in his groin.

  ‘Most of the time Daphne is here to run the house for me,’ he explained. ‘Luisa stayed for a couple of weekends before she was married, when we had a lot of work to catch up on, but you are the only other woman I’ve invited to the villa, and the only woman to share my bed here,’ he admitted.

  As he spoke he opened a door, and stood back to allow Gina to precede him into what she saw instantly was the master bedroom. Decorated in the same neutral tones as the rest of the house, the room was airy and full of the evening sunlight which streamed through the huge windows, but it was the vast bed in the centre of the room that trapped her gaze, and a little frisson of excitement ran down her spine when Lanzo closed the door and pulled her into his arms.

  ‘Cara.’ His voice was as soft and sensuous as crushed velvet. When he slanted his mouth over hers she melted into his kiss, no thought in her head to deny him. This was where she wanted to be—in his arms and soon, she thought with a little shiver, in his bed.

  She could not hide her disappointment when he lifted his head after a few moments and stared down at her. ‘How are you feeling now, after your dizzy spell this morning?’ he murmured, noting the faint shadows beneath her eyes. She had looked tired for the past couple of days, and had seemed a little subdued, but now she smiled up at him and traced her lips with the tip of her tongue in a deliberately provocative gesture that ignited the flame inside him.

  ‘I’m fine. This morning was just …’ She shrugged, not sure why she had felt so curiously light-headed when she had got out of bed the last few mornings. ‘It was nothing.’ She began to undo his shirt buttons, and skimmed her palm over the satiny skin overlaid with whorls of dark hair that she revealed. ‘But perhaps I should have a lie-down?’ she suggested huskily, smiling boldly at him as her deft fingers unzipped his trousers.

  ‘Witch.’ Lanzo gave a ragged laugh, his own fingers busy with her jacket buttons. ‘All day I’ve wondered whether you were wearing a bra beneath your jacket. And now …’ His eyes narrowed, hot, urgent desire pounding through his veins. ‘Now I know that you are not.’

  Dio, she turned him on. He shoved the jacket down her arms, so that it fell to the floor, and cupped her breasts in his hands, testing their weight and kneading the soft creamy globes before he lowered his head and took one pouting pink nipple into his mouth. Her soft moan of pleasure shattered the last remnants of his restraint and he tumbled them both down on the bed, thrusting his hand beneath her skirt and inside her knickers, to find the betraying dampness between her legs.

  He could not have enough of her, he acknowledged as he stripped her with ruthless efficiency and tore off his own clothes, pausing briefly to don a protective sheath as he had done every time they had had sex after that first night in St Tropez. He was even thinking that it would not be a disaster if Luisa decided only to come back to work part-time after her maternity leave, as he suspected she was thinking of doing. He was confident that Gina would not need much persuading to remain his secretary-cum-mistress. It was an arrangement that could continue indefinitely, he mused, smiling as he drove into her with one long, deep thrust, and crushing her soft cry of delight beneath the hungry pressure of his mouth.

  Afterwards he found himself reluctant to ease away from her, and when he finally rolled onto his back he drew her against him and idly stroked her hair, feeling a contentment that he had not known since … He tensed, shocked at the idea that he had not felt like this since he had made love to Cristina, so many years ago.

  He glanced at Gina and saw that she had fallen asleep. Her long lashes lay against her flushed cheeks and her mouth was slightly parted, so that she looked young and curiously vulnerable. The feeling inside him was not the same, Lanzo told himself again. But he was no longer relaxed and, muttering a curse beneath his breath, he slid out of bed, taking care not to wake her, and strode into the en suite bathroom to take a shower.

  Lanzo’s housekeeper, Daphne, smiled warmly at Gina the following morning. ‘Buongiorno. Would you like to have your breakfast out on the terrace?’

  The mere thought of food was enough to turn Gina’s stomach, despite the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch on the plane yesterday.

  ‘Not just now, thank you.’ She shook her head, trying to clear her muzzy thoughts. ‘I can’t believe I’ve slept for fifteen hours solid.’

  ‘Lanzo said you have been working hard recently, and that it would be better to allow you to sleep for as long as you needed to,’ Daphne explained. ‘That’s why he did not wake you for dinner last night. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat now? You must be hungry.’

  Gina wasn’t. She felt horribly queasy. ‘I’ll have something in a while, when I’ve woken up properly. Where is Lanzo?’

  ‘In the garden.’ The housekeeper’s smile faded. ‘He spends many hours there, and he does not like to be disturbed.’ She darted Gina a sharp look with her bright black eyes. ‘But perhaps he will not mind you searching for him. Go through the gate in the wall at the side of the house.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Gina followed Daphne down the hall, pausing in front of the two life-sized portraits hanging on the wall. ‘Are these people Lanzo’s parents?’ she asked as she studied the painting of a middle-aged couple, struck by the strong resemblance between the handsome square-jawed man and Lanzo. The woman at his side was dark haired and elegant, with a kindly smile that spoke of a warm nature.

  ‘Si.’ Daphne nodded, but offered no further information as she continued down the hall.

  ‘And the young woman in the other painting—who is she?’ Gina queried as the housekeeper opened a door and was about to step into the kitchen.

  Was it her imagination, or did Daphne stiffen before she slowly turned around? ‘She was Lanzo’s fidanzato,’ the older woman said expressionlessly.

  Lanzo’s fiancée! For a second Gina felt the walls and floor tilt alarmingly, just as had happened during the dizzy spell she had experienced when she had got out of bed that morning. Thankfully normality returned almost immediately, but she was conscious of a dull ache inside her at the startling news that Lanzo, who eschewed any form of emotional commitment, had once been engaged.

  She stared at the portrait of the woman, and acknowledged that beautiful was nowhere near an adequate description of her exquisite features: huge almond-sh
aped eyes, a shy smile, and glossy black curls that fell around slender shoulders. A girl on the brink of womanhood, Gina mused, and felt a sharp stab to her heart as she wondered if Lanzo had loved her.

  She frowned and turned back to Daphne. ‘Where is she now? Why didn’t Lanzo marry her?’

  ‘She is dead.’ The housekeeper finally looked at the paintings of Lanzo’s parents and his fiancée. ‘They are all dead. Lanzo does not like to speak of it,’ she added grimly, before she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Gina had noticed the high wall running next to the side of the villa when they had arrived yesterday, and now, as she stepped through the gateway, she found herself in an enclosed garden of such breathtaking beauty that she simply stood and stared around in amazement. Green lawns were edged with a profusion of colourful flowers, long walkways held climbing roses formed into a floral arbour, still pools showed goldfish darting beneath the surface, and the spray of fountains glinted in the sunshine like thousands of tiny diamonds. And all this with the backdrop of a sapphire sea, stretching away to the horizon where it met the cobalt blue sky.

  If there was a heaven, this was what it would look like, she mused, her senses swamped by the sweet scent of the lavender bushes, where industrious bees buzzed among the long purple spires. The splash of the fountains was the only other sound to break the cloistered quiet, and Gina found herself breathing softly for fear of disturbing the peace and serenity that seemed to envelop her.

  It was ten minutes before she found Lanzo. He was sitting on a low stone wall that surrounded a pool, watching the fish swim among the water lilies.

  ‘Daphne told me you were here,’ she greeted him, when he swung his head round and saw her hovering uncertainly beneath an archway of jasmine and orange blossom. ‘She also said you might not wish to be disturbed—so if you want me to leave …?’

  She wished she knew what he was thinking, but as usual his sunglasses hid his eyes. Yet she sensed that his mind was far away—perhaps with his beautiful fiancée? Her heart clenched and she despised herself for her jealousy. The beautiful girl in the portrait must have died tragically young—but of course she did not know, because Lanzo had never spoken of her.

  He seemed to drag himself from a distant place and smiled at her. ‘Of course I don’t want you to leave. What do you think of my garden?’

  ‘There aren’t the words,’ Gina said simply. ‘Being here, surrounded by the flowers and trees, it’s like a little piece of heaven on earth.’

  She flushed, sure he would mock her, but he was quiet for a few moments.

  ‘That’s what I set out to create,’ he said slowly. ‘A beautiful paradise secluded from the hectic world. A place to reflect and perhaps find peace.’

  Gina waited, unconsciously holding her breath as she wondered if he would speak of the girl in the painting, perhaps reveal how she and his parents had died. But he said nothing more.

  ‘Is the garden all your work?’ she asked him, unable to hide her surprise at the idea that he had been responsible for the expert landscaping.

  He laughed. ‘Hardly—it covers two acres, and I employ a team of gardeners to tend it. But in the beginning I did a lot of the spadework.’ It had been strangely cathartic, digging the soil where once his family home had stood. He had come here day after day and worked until he was physically exhausted, but nothing had banished the dreams where he heard Cristina’s voice begging him to save her and their unborn child.

  He saw that Gina was staring at him. ‘Why are you looking at me as if I’ve grown another head?’

  ‘I don’t get you,’ she admitted frankly. ‘I can’t equate the daredevil playboy who loves dangerous sports like skydiving with the man who counts gardening as one of his hobbies.’

  He shrugged. ‘But I don’t need you to understand me, cara.’

  Gina knew he had not meant to be deliberately hurtful, and that made it worse—because his careless comment was deeply wounding. She had known from the start that he only wanted an affair with her. Just because sometimes in the aftermath of their lovemaking she felt closer to him than she had to any other human being it did not mean that he felt the same way.

  Lanzo never revealed his emotions. But presumably he must have been in love once, and that was why the portrait of his fiancée was displayed in the hallway of his house—so that her face was the first thing he saw every time he walked through the door.

  Gina had sat down on the wall near to Lanzo, but now she jerked to her feet, wishing she had the nerve to ask him about his past. But why would he confide in her when he regarded her as just another temporary mistress? she thought bitterly. And why did she care? It wasn’t as if he meant anything to her. In a few months his usual PA would return to work for him, and once Luisa was back Gina would leave him and get on with her life.

  Oh, hell. Why did that thought hurt so much? And why was her head spinning again? Or was it the ground beneath her feet that was moving, tilting so that she was falling into blackness?

  ‘Gina!’

  Lanzo’s voice came from far away. And then there was nothing.

  ‘I do not need to see a doctor. I can’t believe you’ve called the poor man out when it’s obvious I must have fainted because I haven’t eaten for hours.’

  Gina glared at Lanzo, infuriated when he gave her a bland smile and pushed her gently back down so that she was lying on the sofa.

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t break your back, carrying me to the house,’ she muttered. ‘I’m no lightweight.’

  ‘Stop talking and lie quietly,’ he advised her, a nuance in his tone warning her that she was wasting her breath arguing with him. ‘You’ve been feeling unwell for a week, and it’s sensible to have a check-up. The doctor is here now,’ he said, getting to his feet at the sound of Daphne’s voice, followed by a deeper tone, coming from the hall.

  To Gina’s annoyance Lanzo did not leave the room while the doctor took her blood pressure.

  ‘That all seems fine,’ the elderly doctor assured her. ‘You say you have never fainted before?’

  ‘Never—’ Gina said firmly.

  ‘But Signorina Bailey has felt dizzy on several occasions during the past week or so,’ Lanzo interrupted.

  ‘There could be a number of causes,’ the doctor mused, ‘one of which is pregnancy. Is there a possibility—?’

  ‘No.’ Gina cut him off. ‘No possibility at all.’ The words of the gynaecologist she had seen when she had still been married to Simon echoed in her head.

  ‘I’m afraid the scarring caused by the endometriosis means that your only real hope of having a child is with IVF.’

  ‘It’s out of the question,’ she insisted, when Dottore Casatelli gave her a searching glance.

  ‘Well, there are many other reasons for feeling faint—anaemia is certainly a possibility. I suggest you come to my surgery so that I can perform a simple blood test.’

  Gina nodded, her mind only half concentrating on what the doctor was saying as she did some mental arithmetic. Her period was late—over a week late—and she was amazed she hadn’t noticed. When she had been trying for a baby with Simon she had plotted the exact date, almost the exact hour, her period should start, and being even a day late had sent her rushing to buy a pregnancy test kit—only to have her hopes dashed every time. Undoubtedly this was just a blip in her cycle.

  She glanced distractedly at Lanzo when he excused himself to answer a phone call. After he had left the room she smiled politely at the doctor as he stood and picked up his medical bag, but her smile turned to a look of puzzlement when he handed her a small package.

  ‘I don’t need to do a pregnancy test,’ she insisted. ‘I suffer from a medical condition that makes it virtually impossible for me to conceive.’

  ‘And yet sometimes the impossible is possible after all,’ the doctor said gently. ‘Do the test, signorina, if only so that we can eliminate pregnancy as a reason for your dizzy spells.’

  It was a complete waste of time, Gina t
hought to herself half an hour later, as she sat on the edge of the marble bath and waited for the required two minutes to tick past. Fortunately Lanzo was holding a conference call with his office in Japan, and she had slipped upstairs to carry out the pregnancy test without his knowledge.

  It was stupid to feel nervous. It was habit, she supposed.

  In the past she had carried out dozens of tests, and had paced the bathroom feeling sick with a mixture of excitement and desperate hope that she would receive the result she was praying for. Of course this time she hoped the result would be negative—or rather not hoped, but simply assumed that she could not be pregnant. She checked her watch and leaned forward to look at the test—and felt her heart slam against her ribs.

  Pregnant 5+. Only she wasn’t. The test was wrong.

  Thankfully the kit contained a second test, but her hands were shaking so much that she fumbled to rip off the packaging and carry out the instructions. A sense of numbness settled over Gina as she watched the hand on her watch crawl round. This time the result would be negative, and that would be for the best—because she wasn’t in a position to have a baby right now. As for Lanzo. Well, she dared not contemplate what his reaction would be—but it was ridiculous to worry because she wasn’t pregnant. The gynaecologist had been very gentle when she had explained that both her fallopian tubes were blocked.

  The two minutes were up. Taking a deep breath, she checked the test—and disbelief slowly turned to incandescent joy as she stared at the word ‘pregnant’ in the result box.

  Lanzo had gone out on his motorbike, Daphne informed Gina after she had plucked up the courage to go downstairs and face him. Her sense of relief that she had been given a brief reprieve before she broke her astounding news soon turned to dread at the thought of him hurtling at breakneck speed along the narrow road that corkscrewed along the coast. What if he had an accident and was thrown over the cliff-edge onto the jagged rocks below?

  Stop it, she ordered herself firmly. Lanzo knew what he was doing. But he had told her that he did not fear death.