She gave him a considering look. ‘Is that what I’m going to do?’

‘You might be foolish enough to try.’

‘And if I did?’

‘I wouldn’t let it happen.’

An awkward imp made her say, ‘But suppose I really wanted to drop you? That would be my decision.’

‘No, cara. When and where it ends between us is my decision. Never forget that.’

His voice was soft, and in that very softness she thought she detected a hint of menace. The imp grew annoyed.

‘Are you saying that you’d try to force me?’

‘That depends on how you define force. Let’s say that I’d make you change your mind.’

‘And when I’d said the right words-’

‘I’m not talking about words. You would have to really change your mind, really want me, because I’d be satisfied with nothing less.’

‘Good grief, you’re sure of yourself,’ she snapped. ‘Suppose one day things don’t work out to suit you?’

Vincente didn’t answer in words. He simply took her hand, turned it over and laid his lips against her palm. She tried to pull away but his grip, while seeming gentle, was unbreakable. His breath was like a furnace, and his lips tickled her softly so that insistent tremors went through her hand, up her arm.

Yet, even as she responded, she knew that there was something here that was alarming. This wasn’t love or even desire, but a simple demonstration of power. He wanted her to know that he held her prisoner, not with locks and chains, but simply by subverting her own will, making her flesh act in defiance of her mind. And, if he could do that, then he was her master indeed.

She must escape him.

She did so, sliding off the bed and reaching out for her robe, but before she could touch it, it was whisked away, tossed into a corner, and his fingers surrounded her wrist.

‘Let go of me at once,’ she said breathlessly.

‘I only want to talk,’ he said, still holding her. ‘There are things we need to get straight between us.’

‘I said let me go.’

He ignored her and leaned back, drawing her slowly but inexorably towards him. It was unnerving that such a light grip could be as unbreakable as steel, but there was nothing she could do. When she reached the bed he put his other arm about her waist so that she was forced to sit beside him, unable to move.

‘Don’t fight me, Elise,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t ever fight me. You can’t win. I won’t let you.’

‘It won’t be up to you,’ she said through gritted teeth.

He smiled then, and it almost frightened her. There was no amusement behind it, only a kind of sardonic pity.

‘Don’t fool yourself about that,’ he said. ‘What happens is always up to me.’

‘Never,’ she snapped. ‘You don’t own me and you don’t control me.’

‘Really?’

‘You’re deluding yourself. Let me go at once.’

He ignored her, pressing her back on to the bed with his hand on her shoulder. It was the lightest of touches, with barely any pressure behind it, yet when she tried to escape, she couldn’t. This was like everything else he did, she thought wildly. Determined, calculated-whether it was taking over a company, silencing an enemy or subduing a woman. He was watching her with shadowed eyes, dark enough to swallow all feeling. She could sense only his unrelenting purpose.

When he was sure that she knew resistance was useless, he let his hand drift away from her shoulder towards her breasts, already peaked and firm in readiness for him. Deny it as she might, she was aching for his caress, but when it came it was light, brushing carelessly over first one breast, then the other, almost as though he hadn’t noticed their message.

She lay looking up, furious at her own nakedness and his, more furious still at the fact that her chest was rising and falling with renewed desire, and that there was no way to hide it from him.

He’d only just left her body, she thought, enraged. Just a few minutes ago she had felt satiated, yet with a look and a word he had brought her back to the edge, tense with frustration, raging for the feel of him inside her again, filling her with his power. And he knew it, damn him! He knew everything.

He dropped his head and let his lips trail across her flesh so that wherever he went she was aflame. Then she felt the flickering of his tongue and a groan burst from her, despite her best efforts to silence it, and she raised her hands to her head, digging the fingers into her hair, and arching her back.

Then she realised that he was changing her position, turning her over on to her front and running his hands along her spine. His mouth followed them, while his hands slid down to caress her behind. Her back was tingling as never before. It was a good feeling, yet she wanted to turn over and face him. This position made her so helpless.

Then she forgot everything but what he was doing to her, and how good it felt. Suddenly she let out a sound that was almost a cry. He’d discovered a place at the back of her neck that sent fierce, hot sweetness forking through her. No man had ever touched her there before, and she’d never dreamed that it was a special sensitive place until Vincente discovered it.

He kissed her there with lingering skill, while she lay shaking. Then he gently turned her over, watching her, to know whether his moment was here.

Let it happen, Elise thought crazily. It would be his victory but she no longer cared. Let him have the triumph of claiming her, feeling her enclose him avidly, frantic for what only he could give.

Everything in her longed to scream, Now! She just managed to hold it back, but her will was melting into compliance. She wanted him on top of her, inside her, driving her further and faster until she could find the blazing release that was now all she cared about.

Thank goodness he too had reached the edge! She could see his arousal, rising unmistakably from the dark hair between his legs. There was a kind of savage satisfaction in knowing that, like her, he was reacting to the point where control was impossible. She parted her legs, seeking the moment when he had no choice but to enter her and they would become equals in desire and incitement, so that she could conquer him at the moment he conquered her. That would be a kind of sweet revenge.

But instead of settling over her he dropped his head and laid his mouth gently over hers. Incredibly, it was a chaste kiss, almost reverent, lips barely touching.

‘Goodnight,’ he whispered. ‘Sleep well.’

He slid quickly off the bed, picked up his clothes and walked out of the door.

She lay, too stunned to move or to think straight. From behind the door she could hear his movements, and it dawned on her with horrifying force that he’d really gone.

Having inflamed her desire to the pitch of madness, he’d walked away without a backward glance, leaving her unsatisfied and desperate. Determined to show his power over her, he’d done it as coolly and brutally as possible.

‘No,’ she breathed. ‘No!’

She leapt off the bed and hurled herself at the door, but even as she wrenched it open she heard the front door close behind him and his footsteps fading outside.

‘No!’ she screamed.

For a blinding moment she was on the verge of rushing after him and hauling him back by force, but mercifully something stopped her. That would be to hand him the ultimate victory-even more satisfying to him than the one he’d already achieved.

Slowly, breathing hard, she made her way back into the bedroom and across to the window. The light was out and she could stand there, unseen. In a moment he strode from the building, went to his car and drove away without glancing up to see if she were there.

Her body was still thrumming with the passion he’d so cynically evoked, while her heart was possessed by hatred. The tension between them almost destroyed her and it was maddening to be unable to do anything except pace the room, hands clenched, fuming.

But there was one thing she could do and she did it, seizing a vase and hurling it at the wall. It made a satisfying crash, but left her feeling no better. She headed for the bathroom and stood under the shower while freezing water splashed over her. It cooled her body, but not her raging heart.

Vincente didn’t call her the next day, and her anger grew. Another cold shower helped, but only a little.

On the following day there was a knock on the door, and she opened it to find a lad holding a huge bouquet of red roses.

‘Signora Carlton?’

She signed for it, closed the door hurriedly and looked for the note. It was brief:

I have to make a tour of factories and knock some heads together. I’ll call you when I get back. Vincente.

‘To hell with him,’ she muttered. She knew what he was doing-sending her one message in the flowers and another in the curt letter. She knew which was the real one.

She chucked the flowers in the bin.

Now Elise was glad she’d rediscovered the fashion school. She could occupy her brain; she spent several days there, bringing work home and staying up late into the night.

‘It’ll be wonderful having you back,’ the principal said when she officially signed up for the next term. ‘I hope you’ll make a career of it this time.’

‘Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to stop me.’ Under her breath she added, ‘Nothing and nobody.’

Every second day another bouquet would arrive, but there were no more notes. Just the blazing beauty of red roses, with their confusing message.

‘I know what you’re doing,’ she said aloud. ‘This is how you think to keep me on the hook. You think I’ll be confused and worried. You think I’m missing you, dying for you to knock on that door so that I can throw myself into your arms. Think again!’

Always the roses went into the bin, but as the days passed the gesture became less fierce. After a while she began keeping one rose back. Just one could do no harm.

She spent hours going around the best fashion shops in Rome. She’d visited them before, but as a shopper. Now she returned as a student, mentally preparing herself for when term started.

When she wasn’t exploring the shops she practised drawing clothes, refining her skills, experimenting with ideas. She became more and more absorbed until the phone rang one afternoon and at first she didn’t hear it.

She finally answered, expecting it to be Vincente. But the voice was feminine and gracious.

‘I am Signora Farnese, mother of Vincente,’ she said. ‘I have heard so much about you, and I can wait no longer to meet you. Will you give me the pleasure of your company for dinner tonight? Vincente is still away, so we shall be quite private.’

‘Thank you, I should like to.’

‘My car will call for you at seven o’clock.’

Elise dressed with great care, choosing a dress of embroidered ivory silk with a matching jacket, and dressed her hair in a style that was elegant and slightly severe.

The limousine appeared on the dot of seven, and took her on a journey towards the countryside that lay south of the city. It was dusk and the lights were coming on, lighting up St Peter’s, glowing in the River Tiber.

There were more lights on the Palazzo Marini when it finally came into view. She’d checked the place out on the Internet, but the reality of the Renaissance building was still breathtaking.

Vincente’s mother was a small, bright-eyed woman with a gentle manner and a strong likeness to Vincente. She laughed at Elise’s expression.

‘Yes, my son takes after me, doesn’t he?’

‘Signora,’ Elise said hesitantly, ‘how did you know who I was, and where to contact me?’

‘I have friends all over Rome,’ the Signora said with a little smile. ‘Some of them were at the shareholders’ meeting. Others…’ She gave an elegant little shrug.

‘Others were everywhere,’ Elise finished.

‘And they’re all terrible gossips. I’ve never known my son so-shall we say?-absorbed. I knew that I simply had to meet you.’

She spent the least possible time showing Elise around the Palazzo before indicating a short flight of marble steps.

‘Up here is my own apartment,’ she said. ‘Let us go there and be comfortable.’

Her rooms were cosy, with everything on an intimate scale.

‘I feel easier here,’ the Signora said with a smile. ‘I get lost in that huge building. I wasn’t born to grandeur and I can’t really get used to it.’

A small table had been set for supper on a balcony overlooking a view of lavish gardens, with Rome in the distance.

Her hostess treated her royally, serving the very best food and wine. She was in her seventies, and clearly frail, but her gentle manner was enchanting. She seemed to like Elise at once, and was soon confiding in her.