The Ultimate Risk Read online

  ‘My parents divorced when I was eight, and when Dad married Linda a few years later she brought her daughters, Hazel and Sarah, to live at the farm.’

  ‘What about your mother?’ Lanzo asked. ‘Why didn’t you live with her after the divorce?’

  ‘Dad thought it would be better for me to stay with him. My mother had been having an affair behind my father’s back, and one day I came home from school to find a note saying she had left us for one of the labourers Dad had employed on the farm. Mum never stayed in one place for long, or with one man,’ Gina admitted. ‘I visited her occasionally, but I was happier living with Dad and Linda.’

  Witnessing her mother’s chaotic lifestyle and her numerous volatile relationships had made Gina realise that she wanted her future to be very different. Marriage, a happy home and children might not be fashionable goals, but she wasn’t ashamed to admit that they were more important to her than a high-flying career.

  Lanzo drove her home several times a week, and she slowly grew more relaxed with him—although her intense awareness of him never lessened. He was always charming, but sometimes she sensed a dark mood beneath his smile. There was a restless tension about him, and an air of deep sadness that puzzled and disturbed her, but he never spoke of his personal life and she was too shy to pry.

  ‘I find you peaceful company, Gina,’ he told her one night when he stopped the car outside the farm gates.

  ‘Is that a polite way of saying I’m boring?’ she blurted out, wishing with all her heart that he thought she was gorgeous and sexy. Peaceful made her sound like a nun.

  ‘Of course not. I don’t find you at all boring,’ he assured her quietly. He turned his head towards her, and the brilliant gleam in his green eyes made Gina’s heart lurch. ‘You are very lovely,’ he murmured deeply, before he brushed his mouth over hers in a kiss that was as soft as thistledown and left her yearning for more.

  ‘I checked the rota and saw that it’s your day off tomorrow. Would you like to come out with me on my boat? ‘

  Would she?

  She barely slept that night, and the next day when she heard Lanzo’s car pull up on the drive she dashed out to meet him, her face pink with an excitement that at eighteen she was too young and naïve to try and disguise.

  It had been a glorious day, Gina remembered, sliding deeper beneath the bathwater. The sun had shone from a cloudless blue sky as Lanzo had steered the luxurious motor cruiser he had chartered out of the harbour. His dark mood seemed to have disappeared, and he’d been charismatic and mouth-wateringly sexy, his faded jeans sitting low on his hips and his chest bared to reveal an impressive six-pack. Gina had watched him with a hungry yearning in her eyes, and her heart had raced when he had pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  They had cruised along the coast, picnicked in a secluded bay, and later he had made love to her in the cabin below deck. The sound of the waves lapping against the boat and the mewing cry of the gulls had mingled with his low murmurs of pleasure when he had stroked his hands over her trembling, eager body.

  There had been one moment when her hesitancy had made him pause. ‘It’s not your first time, is it?’ he had asked with a frown.

  ‘No,’ she’d lied, terrified that he would stop if she admitted the truth.

  But he hadn’t stopped. He had kissed her with a feverish passion that had thrilled her, and caressed her with gentle, probing fingers until she had been so aroused that when he had finally entered her there had been no discomfort, just a wonderful sense of completeness—as if she had been waiting all her life for this moment and this man.

  The bathwater had cooled, and Gina shivered as she sat up abruptly and reached for a towel. She had not only give Lanzo her virginity that day, she had given him her heart—naïvely not realising that for him sex was simply a pleasurable experience that meant nothing to him. Now she was older and wiser, and she understood that desire and love were not inextricably entwined.

  She would not be so careless with her heart again, she thought as she stared at her smudged reflection in the steamed-up mirror. In fact, since her marriage to Simon had proved to be such a mistake, she had lost all confidence in her judgement and wondered if she would ever fall in love again.

  But she was not an over-awed eighteen-year-old with a head full of unrealistic expectations, she reminded herself. She knew Lanzo had desired her tonight, and she could not deny her fierce attraction to him. She could not allow her experiences with Simon to ruin the rest of her life, and perhaps a passionate fling with a drop-dead sexy playboy was just what she needed to restore her self-confidence after her divorce? she mused.

  But much later that night, when sleep still eluded her, she acknowledged that only a fool played with fire and did not expect to get burned.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE Queen of the East was a sixty-metre-long luxury yacht owned by a wealthy Arab sheikh, and was currently moored in St Peter Port off the island of Guernsey. The yacht was certainly impressive, Lanzo thought as he steered his powerboat alongside, shrugged out of his waterproof jacket and prepared to climb aboard.

  ‘I’m glad you could make it, my friend,’ Sheikh Rashid bin Zayad Hussain greeted him. ‘Your business call was successful, I hope?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. But I apologise once again for my lateness,’ Lanzo murmured, accepting a glass of champagne from a waiter and glancing around at the other guests who were milling about the yacht’s breathtakingly opulent salon. ‘The refit is superb, Rashid.’

  ‘I admit I am impressed with the quality of workmanship and attention to detail by Nautica World. The company is small, but Richard Melton has certainly delivered. That is him over there.’ The Sheikh dipped his head slightly. ‘A pleasant fellow—married with two small children, I believe. He has built his company up from nothing, which is no mean feat in these economic times.’

  Lanzo followed the Sheikh’s gaze and stiffened with shock. He had been unable to dismiss Gina from his mind for the past twenty-four hours, which had made a mockery of his decision not to contact her again. He desired her, but it was more than that. He was intrigued by her, and curious to discover why she was so different from the girl he had once known.

  ‘Is the woman with Melton his wife?’ he demanded tersely.

  ‘The beautiful brunette in the white dress?’ Sheikh Hussain looked over at the Englishman, whose hand was resting lightly on his female companion’s slender waist. ‘No. He simply introduced her as a friend when they came on board. I have met Mrs Melton once, and I understand that she is expecting another child.’ To the Sheikh’s mind there was only one explanation as to the identity of the mystery woman. ‘It would seem that Richard Melton’s good taste extends to his choice of mistress,’ he murmured.

  Lanzo’s jaw hardened as he stared at Gina and her male companion. Last night he had puzzled over why she had seemed so wary of him, and had felt concerned that she had been hurt by an event or a person in her past. But now, as he noted her designer dress and the exquisite pearl necklace around her throat, he was sure he had imagined the air of mystery about her, and cynically wondered if she rejected him in favour of a married lover.

  ‘So, what do you think of the yacht?’

  Gina glanced at her brother-in-law and grimaced. ‘It’s stunning, but a bit over the top for my liking,’ she replied honestly. ‘There’s a lot of gold. Do you know that even the taps in the bathroom are gold-plated? Well, of course you know—your company was responsible for the refit. I suppose the important thing is that Sheikh Hussain likes it.’

  Richard grinned. ‘He loves it—which is why he’s throwing a party to show it off. Even better, several of his friends here tonight also own yachts and are interested in having them refitted, which is good news for Nautica World.’ He paused. ‘Thanks for accompanying me tonight, Gina. The party is a fantastic opportunity to drum up new business. Usually Sarah comes with me, but she’s finding the last few weeks of this pregnancy exhausting, and I know she was grateful you
agreed to take her place.’

  ‘I’m happy to help,’ Gina said easily. Her smile faded as she thought of her stepsister. ‘Sarah does seem a bit fed up—but I suppose three pregnancies in four years is a lot to cope with.’

  ‘To be perfectly honest, this last baby was a bit of a mistake,’ Richard admitted ruefully. ‘I only have to look at Sarah and she falls pregnant,’ he joked.

  Lucky Sarah, Gina thought wistfully. Her stepsister had no idea what it was like to be unable to conceive, to have your hopes dashed every month, and to feel a pang of longing every time you saw a newborn baby.

  She knew her family would have been surprised to learn that she and Simon had tried for over a year to have a child. ‘Oh, Gina is a career woman,’ they’d explained, whenever the question of babies was mentioned by other relatives. She had never spoken about her infertility; she felt enough of a failure as it was, without her family’s well meaning sympathy. And so now she smiled at her brother-in-law and bit back the comment that she would give anything to be happily married with two adorable children and a third on the way.

  Richard glanced across the salon. ‘You see that man over there?’ he murmured. ‘He’s one of Sheikh Hussain’s cousins, and he owns a forty-foot motor cruiser. I think I’ll go and have a chat with him.’

  Gina laughed. ‘I hope you can convince him that he needs Nautica World’s services.’ She was very fond of her brother-in-law. Richard worked hard, and certainly deserved to be successful.

  ‘You look stunning tonight, cara.’

  The familiar, sexy drawl caused Gina to spin round, and her heart missed a beat when her eyes clashed with Lanzo’s glinting green gaze. Once again his appearance had taken her by surprise, and she had no time to disguise her reaction to him, colour flaring in her cheeks as she acknowledged how incredibly handsome he looked in a black dinner jacket and a snowy white shirt that contrasted with his darkly tanned skin.

  ‘If I’m not mistaken, your dress is a couture creation. Business must be booming if your boyfriend can afford to buy you pearls and designer clothes, as well as supporting his children and a pregnant wife,’ he drawled.

  Gina stared at him, puzzled by his words and the flare of contempt in his eyes. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend—married or otherwise,’ she told him shortly.

  ‘You’re saying that you are not Richard Melton’s mistress?’

  Shock rendered her speechless for twenty seconds. ‘No! I mean, yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.’ Twin spots of angry colour flared on Gina’s cheeks. ‘Of course I’m not Richard’s mistress.’ Her fingers strayed unwittingly to the rope of perfect white pearls around her neck. ‘Why on earth would you think that?’

  Lanzo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Sheikh Hussain has met Melton’s wife. Why else would he parade you on his arm if you are not lovers?’

  ‘He’s my brother-in-law,’ she explained angrily. ‘Richard is married to my stepsister. Sarah is expecting a baby in a few weeks, and she was too tired to attend the party tonight, so I came with Richard instead.’

  She thought of all the newspaper stories she had read over the years about Lanzo’s numerous affairs with glamorous mistresses. The Sheikh was no better. Richard had told her he had a wife in Dubai, but he was obviously having an affair with the voluptuous redhead who was hanging on his arm tonight.

  She gave a harsh laugh. ‘You and your Sheikh friend might be notorious womanisers, but don’t judge everyone by your low standards. Richard is devoted to Sarah and the boys, and I would never—’ She broke off, suddenly aware that her raised voice was drawing attention from other guests. ‘I would never have a relationship with a married man. My necklace was left to me by my grandmother, if you must know,’ she said coldly, dismayed to feel her heart-rate quicken when Lanzo ran his fingertip lightly over the pearls and then, by accident or design, traced the line of her collarbone.

  ‘The pearls were a wedding present to Nonna Ginevra from my grandfather, and I’ll always treasure them.’ Her grandparents had been happily married for sixty years before they had died within a few months of each other. Gina regarded the necklace as a symbol of hope that marriages could last, even though hers had ended after two years. She glared at Lanzo. ‘Excuse me, I need some fresh air,’ she snapped, and spun round to walk away from him.

  She had only taken two steps when a voice called her name.

  ‘Gina—just the person I wanted to see. You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve found tenants who want to rent your flat.’

  Gina smiled faintly at Geoffrey Robins, who owned an estate agency in Poole. ‘That is good news,’ she agreed.

  ‘They want to move in at the end of the month, if that suits you. And the rent they are prepared to pay will cover your mortgage repayments. Did you say you were going to move back to your father’s place until you find another job?’ Geoffrey asked her. ‘Only I heard on the grapevine that Peter is putting the farm on the market following his heart attack.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, Dad is selling the farm. But Sarah and Hazel have both said that I can stay with them, and hopefully I’ll find a job soon.’ Both her stepsisters had growing families and small houses. Moving in with one or other of them was not going to be ideal, but Gina knew that her only hope of keeping her flat was to rent it out for a few months.

  ‘Well, I’ll catch up with you next week and let you know a few more details,’ Geoffrey said. His eyes lit up when he saw a waiter approach them. ‘Ah, I think I’ll have another glass of that excellent Burgundy.’ He reached out his hand to take a glass of wine, but as he did so the waiter stumbled, the glasses on the tray shot forward, and Gina gave a cry as red wine cascaded down the front of her dress.

  ‘Scusi! Mi dispiace tanto, signora!’ The horrified waiter apologised profusely in his native Italian. The yacht’s crew were of a variety of nationalities, and this waiter was young and very good-looking—another heartbreaker in the making, Gina thought wryly.

  ‘E’bene. Non si preoccupy.’ It’s fine. Don’t worry, she assured him calmly.

  ‘Apparently the best way to remove a red wine stain is to cover it in white wine,’ Geoffrey advised, handing her a small white handkerchief which was of no use at all.

  ‘I’m quite wet enough, thanks,’ Gina said dryly, supremely conscious of the interested glances she was receiving from the other guests.

  She was annoyed that her dress was probably ruined. Her days of being able to afford expensive clothes, which had been a requirement of her job at Meyers, were over, and she would not be able to replace the dress. But far worse was the knowledge that she was the centre of attention. She frantically scanned the salon for Richard, her heart sinking when she saw that he was still deep in conversation with a potential client.

  ‘Come with me,’ a deep, gravelly voice commanded, and before she could think of arguing Lanzo had slipped his hand beneath her elbow and steered her swiftly through the throng of guests out onto the deck.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she muttered as she dabbed ineffectively at the spreading wine stain with the handkerchief. ‘Dinner is going to be served in a few minutes. I wonder if the Sheikh has anything I could change into?’

  ‘I doubt it. Rashid probably keeps a selection of skimpy negligees for his mistresses, but you might not feel comfortable wearing one to dinner.’

  ‘You’re right. I wouldn’t,’ Gina muttered, infuriated by the amused gleam in Lanzo’s eyes.

  ‘There’s only one thing to do. I’ll take you home.’

  She glanced pointedly at the sea stretching far into the distance. The English coastline was not even visible. ‘What a brilliant suggestion,’ she said sarcastically. ‘The only snag is that I can’t swim that far.’

  ‘You don’t have to, cara. My boat is moored alongside the yacht.’

  Frowning, Gina followed Lanzo to the stern of the yacht and stared down at his powerboat. ‘I’m not sure …’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘Come on.’ He was already climbing down the ladder which hun
g over the side of the yacht, and glanced up at her impatiently. ‘Climb down. Don’t worry. I’ll catch you if you fall.’

  Gina hesitated, deeply reluctant to go with Lanzo. Her heart had leapt the instant she had seen him tonight, and she was irritated that she seemed incapable of controlling her reaction to him. But the red wine had soaked through her dress, and she felt sticky and urgently in need of a shower.

  ‘All right,’ she said slowly. ‘But you won’t go too fast, will you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he assured her smoothly.

  It was no easy feat to climb down the ladder in heels and a long skirt, and she gasped when strong hands settled around her waist and Lanzo lowered her into his boat.

  ‘There’s not a lot of room.’ He stated the obvious as he helped her slide into one of the two front seats, before easing himself behind the wheel. ‘Powerboats are designed for speed rather than comfort. Here—slip this around your shoulders,’ he told her as he shrugged out of his dinner jacket and handed it to her. ‘It might help shield you from the spray.’

  His voice was drowned out by the throaty throb of the engine, and as the boat shot forward Gina gripped the edge of her seat and closed her eyes. ‘Remember you promised not to go too fast,’ she yelled, but her words were whipped away on the wind.

  ‘Didn’t you find that exhilarating?’ Lanzo demanded, a hair-raising half-hour later, as he cut the throttle and steered the boat alongside a private jetty in Poole Harbour.

  Gina unclenched her fingers from the edge of her seat and put a shaky hand up to push the hair out of her eyes. They had sped across the sea so fast that the wind had whipped the clip from her chignon, and now her hair fell in a tangled mass down her back. ‘That’s not quite how I would describe it,’ she said curtly. ‘I was terrified.’

  ‘You had no reason to be.’ He frowned when he saw how pale she was. ‘I know what I’m doing. You were perfectly safe with me.’