His To Command

HIS TO COMMAND

PUBLISHED BY JAYNE SYKES at SMASHWORDS

COPYRIGHT 2011 JAYNE SYKES

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CHAPTER ONE

Sorry, we’re just closing. Rebecca hurriedly pasted a smile onto her pale face as she glanced up from the order sheets she had been checking for the last hour.

It slipped when she saw who had entered the shop.

Your customer care is very reassuring, came the swift reply and Rebecca straightened, her body going on high alert as she fought the effects of his rich, deep voice. Other women might be charmed by the soft accent, but she knew the cold, hidden depths of this man.

Yes, well, I’m sure you’re not here to do my appraisal! she snapped back, then gasped in outrage as his eyes lowered to carry out his own version of an appraisal.

Rebecca knew she should move, do anything to discourage his intense physical scrutiny. However, she was appalled at her body’s instant reaction to his fierce gaze. Her breath caught and she could feel her nipples tightening, chafing against her bra.

Worse still, she couldn’t stop the traitorous wish that she had worn something more sophisticated than her pale grey chinos and plain white blouse today. The light smattering of makeup she had applied at eight o’clock this morning had long since faded, and the persistent head ache that had plagued her all day only helped to add more pallor to her usually pale cheeks.

She cursed. What did it matter how she looked? This man had already demonstrated his disregard for her with such cutting brilliance that nothing she said, did or even wore, would alter that estimation. It didn’t even matter that all his assumptions were incorrect.

Is the shop yours? He dragged his eyes up her body until they settled on her face again and, maddeningly, Rebecca blushed.

Damn him!

She owed Alessio Di Bernardo no answers. If she had any sense at all, she would order him to leave. He wasn’t here to buy a book, she knew that much, even if she couldn’t for the life of her fathom out why he was here.

She peeked at him through lowered lashes and immediately felt that jolt of desire in the pit of her stomach again. Her blush deepened as she remembered that one, brief kiss they had shared. How could she forget it? Only last night, she had stalled in the middle of the latest romance novel she was writing, and relived every single second of it. The taste of his mouth, the soft touch of his lips as they had clung to hers.

Alessio was a powerful specimen of a man. He was handsome, powerful and rich. What woman wouldn’t find at least one of those attributes tempting? Unfortunately, Rebecca mused, she didn’t want that woman to be herself.

The fact that she had almost given herself so easily disgusted her. She had acted so shamelessly at the funeral that bile rose in her throat again now as his presence brought it all back.

She raised her eyes to his, ignoring his black gaze. She thought she saw a spark of desire in his eyes, but dismissed it just as quickly. Alessio wasn’t capable of feeling anything that could be called warm. He was cruel, heartless and she knew that Paolo’s description of his older, self-opinionated brother was not an exaggeration.

Rebecca felt tears pricking at her eyes as she thought about Frances and Paolo. Their siblings’ lives had been cut short in that terrible plane crash.

It’s a friends. I work here. She finally answered his initial question, fighting the urge to elaborate.

Alessio didn’t need to know that she worked here six days a week helping Emily run the busy bookshop. It was conveniently close to home and meant that she didn’t have to waste time travelling to and from work. That gave her more time to concentrate on her writing.

Now, Rebecca wished that Emily hadn’t chosen this afternoon to go for the final fitting of her wedding dress. Then she shrugged off the negative, selfish thought. Alessio would still have appeared. At least this way she didn’t have to offer anyone any explanations. She would listen to what he had to say and then send him on his way.

You’ve cut your hair.

His simple observation interrupted her thoughts and she scowled, subconsciously running a hand through the short bob she had recently acquired. So he was incredibly astute, whereas most men she knew probably wouldn’t have noticed without any prompting. That certainly didn’t qualify him for man of the year.

Rebecca sensed his disapproval. Why not? He had made it perfectly clear the last time they had shared any semblance of a conversation that he didn’t like her.

But he had kissed her.

That alone, should have warned her that Alessio Di Bernardo lacked scruples, yet she still couldn’t stop the little thrill skipping through her that he had noticed such a small detail.

Cutting her long hair into a more manageable style had been a spur of the moment thing. It meant she would have more time to do other things. Like try to forget Alessio Di Bernardo.

He, on the other hand, looked the same.

His dark grey suit hugged his perfectly formed six feet plus frame. His olive skin was clear and unblemished. She caught the faint scent of his aftershave and had to force herself not to take a deep breath, as it overpowered the smell of paper and new books she loved so much.

His thick black hair shone as it caught the light and her desire to run her fingers through it, to feel its softness, was just as strong. Rebecca felt her fingers flex at the thought and cleared her throat.

Did you want something, Alessio? she managed to drag out and then blushed at the unintentional inference of her words.

Instead of replying with some smutty remark, he simply shrugged his powerful shoulders. We need to talk.

Rebecca frowned.

It was hardly surprising that he didn’t want to discuss the merits of the latest best seller, but they had nothing in common. Their recent, mutual loss had brought them together, and Rebecca knew that he would never talk about that with her. They had barely spoken to one another at the funeral. Alessio had been cold and aloof, in stark contrast to his mother who had warmly welcomed her, in spite of all the grief.

Besides, they lived in two completely different worlds. There was no reason for their paths to ever cross again, Rebecca acknowledged with another frown. Still, she didn’t like the strange twist of her gut at that last thought.

Grief enveloped her and she spared him a brief look whilst trying to still the erratic beating of her heart. She dared herself to walk from behind the small, wooden counter and face him.

There is nothing we have to talk about, she argued, even as the image of her sister’s dark oak coffin appeared in her head.

I disagree. His voice was soft, but no less commanding.

Alessio reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it in such a gentle grip that Rebecca gasped. The heat from that simple touch seared her skin and she tried to pull away. It could not happen again. She mustn’t let it.

Close the shop, Rebecca. You look like you could do with a decent meal. When did you last eat properly? His eyes raked over her, taking in her pallor and the way her clothes hung loosely on her thin frame.

I don’t think-

So I see. He countered, and Rebecca bristled.

How dare you! The pain in her head intensified as she wrenched out of his hold. "I think you should leave, unless you are going to buy a book."

If that would make you happy, Rebecca. He shrugged and picked up a book from the shelf nearest to him.

He glanced at the title. One of yours?

He was back to mocking her, and she blushed as he thumbed the pages of the latest best selling romance novel.

I would have thought the reference section more your cup of tea. Business, fast cars- She bit out, hating herself for letting him rile her so easily.

He slotted the book back onto the shelf and shrugged one broad shoulder again.

I am a very successful, incredibly wealthy businessman and I drive a Lamborghini. Why would I need to read about them, Cara?

She opened her mouth to speak, but then snapped it shut. Several words sprung to mind, none appropriate for the great Alessio Di Bernardo with his Latin arrogance. Instead, she tried to focus on his glib reply.

How could she tell him that the only thing that would make her truly happy would be if she could turn back time and have her sister and Paolo back?

Images of the plane crash that the news had insisted on replaying over again ran around her head and the grief that had enveloped her for the last month crushed her chest. She couldn’t breathe. It was too much.

Rebecca dropped to her knees, a low moan of anguish escaping her pale lips as the tears fell freely from her eyes.

Dio! In one movement, Alessio was on his knees before her, fighting her flailing hands as he wrapped his arms about her and pulled her close.

**

Alessio held Rebecca as she sobbed. He had to fight the strong urge to give in to his own grief. Now was not the time. As head of the Di Bernardo family, he had to remain strong for everyone. More importantly, he had to carry out what he had come here to do, and that left no room for emotion.

Never the less, he suddenly felt guilty for reminding her of the one thing that had brought them together. They had both lost a sibling in that terrible plane crash. Alessio stroked Rebecca’s back and allowed his thoughts to linger on his younger brother for a brief moment.

Paolo had been the real life and soul of the family, the fun element opposite his own stoic leadership. Unencumbered by the duty to run the family banking business, he had flitted from job to job, woman to woman, until he had met and fallen in love with Rebecca’s older sister, Frances. Then, Alessio had seen his younger brother transform into a young man who had finally found his purpose in life.

That still hadn’t prevented him from doing his brotherly duty and warning Paolo to tread carefully. They were a rich family. Their successful family investment banking business had been well established by their late father at the close of the Second World War, and it was no secret that all that wealth and power made the two of them attractive commodities.

Paolo had merely slapped him on the back and told him not to worry. He too would fall under the spell of a beautiful woman one day. Paolo’s eyes had sparkled with mischief as he went on to echo their mother’s words that Alessio wasn’t getting any younger and needed to settle down and produce an heir. He even remembered Paolo teasing him about Frances’s younger sister. Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to her at the funeral?

In the end, Alessio’s fears had been justified, but he drew little comfort from the fact now. Paolo had never known of his fiancée’s deceit. If Paolo and Frances had survived the plane crash it would have been a different story, of that Alessio had no doubt.

He grimaced. If it hadn’t been for the accident, he too would never have found out how mercenary the Marsh sisters were. Now that he did know the truth, it left only one course of action.

Rebecca moved in his arms, and he lifted his hand to smooth over her newly shortened hair. It suited her, framed her beautiful face and drew attention to the luminous depths of her sapphire eyes.

The sweet sensation of feeling her body in his arms, the way her soft breasts crushed to his body as he held her tight, the soft rose scent she wore, had certain parts of his anatomy soaring, and he shifted slightly. It did little to ease the heat in his loins, but at least she wouldn’t feel the inappropriate effect her body was having on him.

Almost as if she had been reading his thoughts, Rebecca suddenly pulled away, and Alessio handed her his silk handkerchief and watched as she blew her nose before tucking a short strand of hair behind her ear.

You are very pale, Cara. He observed, and she sniffed.

I… I have a headache. A late night. Heat quickly scorched her cheeks as his eyebrows arched. It’s not what you think, either. She hastened to explain as she realized what he was assuming.

Anger surged through Alessio at the thought of Rebecca laying beneath some other lover, her body sprawled and open in invitation. The realization that he wanted this woman only intensified his anger. He loathed this woman and her deceitful ways. Sex would cloud the issue, just as it almost had at the funeral.

And what would I be thinking? He schooled his angry features into a small frown and as she scrambled to her feet. He followed, taking the opportunity to step back from her.

I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate! She snapped and he would have laughed, only he didn’t find her little innocent act at all convincing.

That you would be in the arms of some lover perhaps? He suggested, enjoying the hot blush that finally added colour to her cheeks. Rebecca Marsh should feel mortification. Hopefully, by the end of the day, she would feel a damn sight more.

I was working on my manuscript. She defended, hating that she sounded like some petulant child.

Alessio simply gave another of his ubiquitous shrugs.

Ah, the romance novel. His lips curled with derision and he took a deep breath. This was taking up too much of his time. He wanted to punish her, not discuss the pros and cons of fiction. He needed to state his intentions for the visit and move on. Never the less, he possessed enough decency to make sure she was feeling better.

You are well now, Cara? He asked softly.

Her sweet, elfin face lifted again. Yes, thank you. So, if you wouldn’t mind going I have a lot to do and-

You are still pale.

Alarmingly so, he thought. Most of the women he dated covered their skin in copious amounts of false colour. Not Rebecca Marsh. When he had kissed her after the funeral, it had been a refreshing change to touch lips bare of artificial colour; to taste her sweet mouth rather than oily lipstick.

I’m sorry. She sniffed. It’s just… seeing you again brought it all back. Tears formed in her eyes again, turning them into two sparkling blue fountains of misery.

She blew her nose and Alessio knew he should walk away, give her time to compose herself before he went in for the kill. Then again, he hadn’t earned his ruthless reputation by taking notice of a few tears. So why should Rebecca Marsh be any different?

Many nights he had lain awake thinking about her. Never once, in all those heated dreams, had he envisaged her standing before him, fully clothed and consumed