SHE wouldn't look at him.
Alex pressed the introductions to his brothers. They responded admirably. His grandmother said all the right things. Gina had to know he was not intent on pursuing some hole-in-the-corner affair with her. She had to know. But she wouldn't look at him.
She laid his roses on the table. Her hands were trembling, revealing an inner agitation that he desperately wanted to soothe. She addressed his grandmother. "Will you please excuse me, Mrs. King? My family is here..."
She was going to walk away. His roses meant nothing. She wasn't going to keep them. Only courtesy to his grandmother had brought her this far.
He was seized by a wild primitive urge to grab her, hold her, preventing any escape from him, carry her off to someplace where they could be alone together, where he could...
"Your family?" his grandmother picked up. "I would very much like to meet them. Alessandro, please ask if they will join us."
"Of course," he plunged in, grateful for the lead. Control, he fiercely told himself. Meeting her family was good. Best it be accomplished right now, so Gina would be forced to acknowledge him, to introduce him to those closest to her. It forged a bond she couldn't ignore.
"Thank you," she replied to his grandmother, then hesitantly, "I'm not sure..."
Alex instantly appropriated her arm and tucked it around his. "Let's ask them," he said, forcefully denying her the chance of refusing on their behalf.
For a long, tense moment she stood absolutely motionless, staring at their linked arms, still not looking at him. Her face took on a set determination. He could feel her thinking, "Well, let's see how he deals with this!" Alex was equally determined to meet any challenge she put in his path and come out the winner.
For the next few minutes he focused on winning the regard of the Salvatori family; Gina's parents, Frank and Elena, her older brother, John, and wife, Tessa, all of whom seemed somewhat bemused by his personal interest in Gina and the invitation to join his family in a celebratory drink.
To his intense relief they were happy to comply with the sense of occasion, pleased to be included in Isabella Valeri King's party, which meant Gina had no ready excuse to evade his company.
Nevertheless, he was acutely aware of the mental and emotional barriers that remained—silent but very powerful barriers of pride, humiliation, raw wounds that needed urgent attention.
He could count on his grandmother to play gracious hostess to the Salvatoris. He could count on his brothers to make them feel welcome. He could even count on Peter Owen to entertain them. A sense of civility forced him to wait through this last round of introductions, but waiting any longer was beyond him. Impossible to sit down and pretend a party mood in this situation.
Gina's arm was still tucked around his. He clamped his other hand over the connection to reinforce it, bent his head close to hers and poured all his willpower into a quiet command.
"Come with me!" She didn't reply.
He didn't wait for a reply.
"Please excuse us. I'll bring Gina back soon," he announced to the rest of the party.
Immediate action, removing her from their midst, heading for the doors that led to the outside deck beyond the lounge. His heart beat an exultant tattoo as she came with him, not even a tug of resistance. Her fingers clenched under his grasp—a fighting impulse?—but her feet followed his.
The deck overlooked the channel to the marina downriver; rows of boats as far as the eye could see. The Terlizzi fishing boats were undoubtedly amongst them, boats his family had helped to finance. It reminded him that Gina was too conscious of such things, considering herself an unsuitable match for him, which was nonsense. Absolute nonsense!
Nevertheless, the fresh salty air and the imminent prospect of the fight ahead of him, blew away the heat that had driven him this far. To win this woman, it was reason he needed, not passion. Yet the dictates of his mind were lost in a surge of need as he drew her over to the deck railing and he swung her into his embrace, the desire to hold her to him overwhelming everything else.
"For God's sake! Look at me, Gina! I don't know what else to do to prove to you Michelle lied."
Finally, finally she dragged her gaze up to his, her golden amber eyes darker than he'd ever seen them, dark with an anguish that tore at his heart.
"Does it really matter, Alex?" "Yes. It matters."
"Because you're still hot for me?" Her hands pressed against his chest, her body straining away from contact with his, her eyes sadly mocking the desire they had shared. "You had it right when you first kissed me. This isn't fair."
"I won't let you go, Gina."
"You will...eventually," she said with dull certainty. "I think Peter read it correctly. Your family...the roses... tonight is about winning. You don't count the cost. You just want to win."
"Owen!" A red haze of anger blurred any clear judgement. "He has his own barrow to push, just as Michelle did."
"At least it's a barrow I can fit into." Her mouth took on a wry twist. "Where do I fit in your world?"
"With me."
"The Sugar King? The chief executive of what amounts to a private bank? The heir to the castle?"
"I'm a man with the same needs as any other."
"More needs, Alex. You're no ordinary man. You may not have noticed when you barged in on my family, but they are in awe of you. How could they refuse a King invitation? Your family represents a power they have never personally known. They don't understand this is about proving you didn't lie to me. You've pulled them willy-nilly into a situation that I'll have to explain, and what answers am I to give them?"
"I'd say the situation is self-explanatory. I'm aiming to have a serious relationship with their daughter, their sister, you, Gina!"
"An ordinary canefarmer's daughter." "You're not ordinary!"
"An ordinary fisherman's widow. With a child. Who isn't yours." "I'd be proud to have Marco as my boy. He's a wonderful child."
"Yes he is! But he's not yours!" Her eyes flared a poignant despair at his stubborn rejection of her protests. "What you want with me...it will never progress to you actually taking Marco on as your son, will it? You'll want your own children."
Had Michelle fed her these lines? Or had Peter Owen?
Michelle and Owen together, pursuing their own selfish interests, not caring what they destroyed as long as the destruction served their purpose. Thursday... Michelle doing her damage first, Owen following up with his proposition. Then tonight, feeding her the poison about winning...
Gina's hands suddenly curled into fists and beat at his chest. "We're not toys you can pick up and put down when you find something more attractive."
"Neither am I!" he retorted fiercely, dropping his embrace to catch her clenched hands and contain the violence of feeling they emitted. "Why don't you listen to me, Gina, instead of the people maligning me? Michelle wanted to get rid of you. Owen wants to use you. You're letting them screw us both over."
Shock, agonised confusion.
"What of all you felt with me? Did that mean nothing?" he pressed. Pain in her eyes. A desperate searching. "What did you feel with me,
Alex?"
He took a quick deep breath, harnessing all his energy to answer her in convincing terms.
"Enter the villain," Peter Owen drawled, stepping out onto the deck and closing the door to the lounge behind him.
It startled them both into turning towards him, Gina tearing one hand free of his as she swung aside.
Owen gave her a crooked little smile as he strolled forward. "I know I promised no interference, but it just occurred to me that Alex might colour me black, which doesn't suit me at all."
"What do you mean?" she shot at him. He paused to light a cigarette.
Alex was sorely tempted to smash Owen's face in but Gina had left one hand in his and he was not about to release it. Holding her with him was more important than anything else.
Owen exhaled a stream of smoke, then cocked his head consideringly. "Has he told you it was me in the garden with Michelle last Saturday night?"
A shocked "No!"
Owen shrugged. "Well, he knows it anyway. And he probably thinks I was in on Michelle's plot to undermine your relationship with him so you'd see my offer as an alternative road to take."
"Oh, Peter!" Disappointment...pain...
Owen shook his head at her. "But that part isn't true. I may not have many morals, but I can see the difference between a woman like Michelle and a woman like you. I meant it when I said I'd treat you as my little sister and I'm telling you with absolute honesty, the mud Michelle slung at you was not mine."
"But you knew she was going to do it," she said flatly.
He nodded. "People do what they are bent on doing. I had no power to stop her. Michelle doesn't care for anyone but herself."
"Neither do you, Owen," Alex sliced in bitingly.
Another crooked smile. "Funny thing about that. I would have agreed with you last week. But I now find myself caring about Gina getting hurt.
By you or anyone else. She has a great voice. It should be heard. I can do that for her. So don't use your opinion of me to rubbish what I can offer. That will hurt her, Alex. Her singing is an expression of all she is."
Alex hadn't expected that perception from Owen, nor the sincerity with which it was delivered. Had Gina touched something in his heart...tugged on his soul? It was certainly possible, Alex silently acknowledged, his contempt for the man shifting as a measure of respect weighed in.
With his usual air of flouting any criticism of his behaviour, Owen took another drag on his cigarette, then flicked it into an ashtray left on the deck for smokers. His gaze held Gina's for a moment before moving a hard mocking challenge to Alex.
"The thing is..." he drawled. "My offer to Gina is genuine...and would be good for her. Can you say the same of yours?"
The caring was definitely there. Alex's mind was still adjusting to this incredible fact as the man raised his hand in a salute to Gina.
"Exit big brother," he said ironically. "I'll call you Monday. Okay?"
She nodded. "Thanks, Peter."
They watched him return to the lounge, the challenge he had thrown down—will you be good for her?—gathering a silent force that Alex knew was very much the enemy in tonight's battle with Gina. Yet in a roundabout way, Owen had given him the one weapon that might open her heart and mind to the truth that had brought him here.
Her singing is an expression of all she is.
Truth.
She had to recognise it.
"Those words you sang tonight...love changes everything..." Gently he pulled her around to face him. "You have to believe them to sing as you did," he pleaded with all the passion she stirred in him. "You have to believe love does change everything."