Page 24 of Bound By The Italian’s 'I Do'

‘Your proposal.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Your proposal of marriage.’ He stepped forwards and pressed her back against the wall, bringing his face so close to hers that she could practically feel the glitter burning from his eyes in her retinas. ‘I accept.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEMIXTUREOFemotions that flittered over Issy’s beautiful face filled Gianni with amusement. He’d caught her out. Anticipation for what she would do now filled him.

‘You cannot be serious,’ she said incredulously. ‘You want to marry me just so you can sleep with me?’

‘Why not? We’re having fun, just as you promised, aren’t we? What could be more fun than getting married?’ He cupped her breast.Dio, it felt so good against the palm of his hand. He’d be tempted to marry her for real just to feel it naked against him. ‘Come on, Issy,’ he goaded, moving his hand from her breast to thread his fingers through her hair and clasp the back of her head, ‘what is life for but taking risks, and we’re both risk takers. Let’s get married and spend the rest of our time on the Caribbean having wild sex.’

He was playing her, Issy knew, even as a thrill of need pulsed low in her pelvis at the unbidden thought of locking herself away with Gianni and acting out every depraved need that had exploded for him. This was nothing but a Gianni tactic to get her into bed. Pretend to want to marry her so that she’d drop her bikini bottoms for him. The man must be a bigger sex-mad cad than she’d supposed.

Knowing this was all just a game made it easier to deal with. She didn’t even have to fake her laughter at the absurdity of the swerve to their conversation. ‘I’d be up for that but I’m afraid I’d need a ring on my finger before having the wild sex you promise, so unless you can think of a way for us to get hitched before our time here comes to an end...’ She let her words trail off and raised a shoulder in pretend disappointment.

‘The captain,’ he said with a gleam.

‘What about him?’

‘Some ship captains have the power to conduct weddings. If yours has the requisite powers, he can marry us. Does he?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Let’s ask him.’ Unthreading his fingers from her hair, Gianni ran them down her slender, golden arms. ‘I assume you have your passport on board?’

‘It’s right here in my cabin... What a shame you don’t have yours,’ Issy added with fresh pretend disappointment.

‘Oh, but I do,’ he said triumphantly, patting his back pocket. ‘I always carry it with me.’

So he wanted to drag this absurd game out did he? ‘Then let me get mine.’

Issy retrieved her passport from the handbag she kept it in, lifted the receiver of the cabin’s phone, which connected to all the different parts of the yacht, and smiled beatifically at Gianni. ‘Shall I call the captain then?’

Thoroughly enjoying himself, Gianni nodded. ‘Tell him to meet us in the lounge.’

Gianni watched her press the captain’s number, certain she’d slam the receiver down before the call connected and put a halt to this charade. It was ludicrous to think they could marry. Almost as ludicrous as Issy’s declaration that she was waiting for marriage. Still, she’d upped the ante of their game superbly. He’d twisted and she’d matched. He couldn’t wait to watch her fold.

But she didn’t fold. Instead she politely asked the captain to meet them in the lounge to discuss a personal issue. That was one thing he did like about her; that she spoke to the crew respectfully. Many yacht owners and charterers treated their crew like dirt; as if they were their personal slaves.

Call over, her lips curved. ‘He’ll meet us in the lounge now.’

He held his hand out to her. She laced her fingers through his and let him lead her down to the entertainment deck.

Captain James Caville entered the lounge at the same time as them. Not by word or gesture did he give away the fact he’d worked for Gianni for the last four years. Gianni was proud of his loyal crew. They’d transferred seamlessly to his new vessel and, when told that their boss—him—was being targeted by a hustler and to play along with the hustler’s game, had risen to the challenge. It wouldn’t even cross Issy’s mind that Gianni and the good captain had spent more than a few evenings drinking their way through bottles of Scotch and playing Three Card Brag, or, on the occasions they were joined by other crew members, hunkered down at the poker table playing Texas Hold ’Em.

As a result of their friendship, Gianni thought he knew the captain pretty well and so was almost dumbstruck when, asked if he was allowed to officiate marriages, James nodded. ‘ThePalazzo delle Festeis registered in Bermuda and I have a Bermuda licence, so if you want me to marry you then I can. I’ll just need to contact the ministry to go through the necessary requirements...’ There was a beat of hesitation. ‘Do you want me to do that?’

Gianni had to pull himself together quickly. He’d expected James to laugh at the request, had envisaged turning to Issy and teasing her about researching an island they could marry on and then winding her up into believing they would sail there. It had never crossed his mind that James would actually be allowed to marry them; he’d thought stories of ships captains marrying couples was an urban myth. He’d only chosen Bermuda to register thePalazzo delle Festebecause that’s where his last yacht had been registered.

Surely now was the time Issy would think this was getting out of hand and fold her cards. But instead of finding doubt or panic on her face, she simply gazed at him with challenge in her stare. She was waiting for Gianni to fold.

He’d never folded in his life.

Challenge accepted.

‘Do it,’ he said decisively.

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