Harlequin Presents Writing Competition 2009: Winner’s First Chapter

Wondering what caught the editors’ eyes when judging the Harlequin Presents Writing Competition 2009? Here is the first chapter from winner Susanna Carr’s entry,”Captured: His Runaway Mistress”:

“Captured: His Runaway Mistress” by Susanna Carr

Isabella Williams heard the throaty growl of an expensive sports car and lifted her head like a hunted animal sensing danger. The sudden move made her throbbing head spin. She took a step back, gripping the serving tray as she fought for her balance.

The sounds of the car faded before she turned to see it. Isabella exhaled shakily, her bunched muscles relaxing. She swiped her hand against her heated brow, hating how her imagination ran wild. Her fevered brain was playing tricks. One sports car drives past her and she immediately thinks of him.

Her weary sigh triggered a series of bone rattling coughs. She rubbed her chest with her knuckles, wishing she could massage the ache away. Glancing at the clock, Isabella calculated how many more hours she had left on her shift. Too many. All she wanted to do was crawl back into bed, burrow under the threadbare covers and keep the world at bay. But she couldn’t afford taking a day off. She needed every euro to survive.

“Isabella, you have customers waiting,” her boss barked out at her.

She simply nodded, too tired to give her usual sarcastic response, and headed towards one of the small tables on the sidewalk café. She would get through this day just like every other day. One foot in front of the other. One minute at a time.

It felt like she had waded through sludge by the time she got to the tiny table where the couple waited. They didn’t seem to mind her slow pace as the man gently, almost reverently, kissed the woman’s lips. Envy pierced through Isabella’s fogged brain. She bit down on her chapped lips to hold back a whimper as she remembered what it felt like to be adored and desired.

Isabella’s shoulders slumped as the bittersweet memories poured over her. She couldn’t recapture that kind of love. She will never be the center of his attention again, and he will no longer be her entire world. She missed his possessive kisses and the raw hunger they shared. She missed him but he would never take her back. Not after what she did.

Her knees threatened to buckle under the weight of her regret. She gritted her teeth and harnessed the last of her self-control. Those wildly romantic days were over, she reminded herself fiercely. It was best not to think of them.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked hoarsely in Italian. Her grasp of the language had improved while she’s been on the run in the past year. The first few days alone in Italy were the scariest. The authorities had been after her and she had no money, nowhere to live and no one to turn to. She only had the clothes on her back and a deep fear that motivated her to take one risk after another.

As she took down the order and walked back to the kitchen, Isabella realized that by all accounts she should not have been this successful eluding the law. She had nothing to protect her but the ability to work hard, sacrifice even the basic necessities, and lay low. She also had the determination to keep going, knowing that the longer she disappeared, the better it was for her little sister.

Her sister. Isabella blinked away the tears the stung in the back of her eyes. She missed Sarah so much and wished she could be there. She looked after her sister for so many years that it felt wrong not to be there when Sarah needed her the most. But this was the only way she could provide the experimental medical procedures her sister needed. One day they’ll be together again. It was that promise of the future that kept Isabella sane during the bleakest, loneliest nights.

Isabella coughed, the sound harsh and painful, and she leaned against the kitchen wall. In the next few days she’ll have scraped up enough money to call home to America. She’ll get to hear Sarah’s voice. And maybe some good news. She weakly closed her eyes, ignoring her boss’s reprimand to hurry. She could really use some good news right about now.

Antonio Rossi surveyed the small sidewalk café. After a year of searching, it was all going to end here. He strode to an empty table and sat down, his lethal grace concealing the anticipation racing through his veins. He couldn’t wait to catch Isabella Williams and watch her grovel. This time she couldn’t run or hide. And if she thought he would show mercy because they were once lovers, she was in for a bigger surprise.

He leaned back, his legs sprawled under the tiny table. Sliding dark sunglasses on his nose, Antonio looked at the paint-chipped, rusted furniture. Of all the places he thought she would be, he mused as he glimpsed at the ratted, faded awning, he didn’t picture a dirty little café on the wrong side of Rome. The woman had access to millions. She should be sunning in the Isle of Capri, or shopping in Milan. She could purchase an island of her own with the money she stole from him.

But holing away here was a sheer stroke of genius. Never would he have thought she would hide in filth and poverty. He had underestimated her again. He’s learned his lesson this time.

Isabella stepped into his view. Tension gripped Antonio, bracing for the emotional impact as he watched her precariously balance two cappuccinos on the serving tray. No matter how much he prepared for it, seeing Isabella was like a punch to his gut as she walked past him.

She wore a thin black tee shirt, a skimpy denim skirt and scuffed black flats, but she still had to the power to draw his attention. His gaze lingered on her bare legs. He remembered how they felt wrapped around his hips as he drove into her welcoming body.

Antonio exhaled slowly, purging the image from his mind. He would not be distracted by her sexual allure or her innocent face. He made the mistake of lowering his guard with her and paid dearly for it. She was a witch who would use any means necessary to steal from him.

She looked different, he decided grimly as he watched her serve the couple. The last time he saw her, she had been fast asleep in his bed. Naked and flushed, her long blonde hair fanned like a halo across the white silk pillow.

Isabella now looked pale and sickly. Her long blonde hair fell in a limp ponytail. The curves that used to make him forget his next thought had diminished. She was bony and frail.

She looked terrible. A cruel smile flickered on the edge of his mouth. Antonio hoped she’d been to hell and back. He was prepared to take her there again. He once believed she was sweet and innocent, but it had all been a lie. Her shy blushes and slow smiles concealed her deceitful heart. Antonio had thought she was different than the gold-diggers and social climbers. And Isabella was; she was more conniving than any of them. As she seduced him with her angelic beauty, Isabella had fleeced him out of millions.

Isabella turned away from the table and headed toward him. Her head was bent as she grabbed her notepad and pen. Tension coiled inside him, ready to spring. He sat unnaturally still, refusing to make any sudden moves that would alert her to the impending danger. This time he will capture his prey.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked disinterestedly. Her hoarse voice was nothing like the husky whisper he remembered.

“Hello, Bella.”

No, no, no! She looked up sharply and her cloudy eyes cleared as she focused on Antonio. He was here. In front of her. Waiting for her to make the next move, even though they both knew it was useless.

Run. The word screamed through her brain.

Isabella slowly blinked. Maybe she was hallucinating. The cold medication she was taking made her thinking fuzzy. There is no way Antonio Rossi, a billionaire, a member of the social elite, would be sitting in this café.

But her imagination couldn’t conjure the electric current coursing through her body from his nearness. Or the fear that stole her breath. Her heart gave a brutal leap before it plummeted.

She couldn’t stop staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Antonio wore a black pinstripe suit, the ruthlessly tailored lines emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean muscular body. The hand-made shirt and silk tie offered a veneer of civility, but they couldn’t mask his animal magnetism. He was the most sensual man she had ever known, and the most powerful. She had been an idiot to get involved with him.

Antonio Rossi was also the most callous person she’d known. Isabella took short, choppy breaths, but she was suffocating with dread. She couldn’t gauge his next move or his next thought. She only knew that it was going to be devastating.

His eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses, but the angles and lines of his savagely masculine face were just as sharp and aggressive as she remembered. Antonio wasn’t beautiful, but his dark, striking looks made women of all ages eager for another glimpse of him.

Run. And don’t look back.

“Scusi?” The Italian tripped off her tongue automatically. She had no idea why. She never spoke to Antonio in Italian.

Antonio leaned back in his chair and arrogantly studied her appearance. Her skin tingled as she felt his lazy gaze sliding over her tired body and cheap clothes. Her pulse tripped before galloping at maximum speed.

“You can beg for my forgiveness as much as you want,” he said, “but it’s not going to work.”

She shivered at the menace in his voice. “Sorry,” she said in a heavy Italian accent. “My English is not so good. What you say?”

What was she doing? Why wasn’t she running? If this is her mind going into self-preservation mode, she might as well start digging her grave. Her muscles were locked, her feet were still, but her heart pounded hard against her ribs. She should get as far away as she can and instead she was babbling nonsense. This wasn’t going to work. It will only make Antonio angrier.

“Bella,” he warned in a low growl.

“Bella?” Isabella shook her head and regretted it as she felt a moment of dizziness. “No, I’m not Bella.” Only Antonio had called her that. She used to love hearing him say it with a hint of smile when he greeted her, or in awe as she brought him satisfaction with her mouth. Now hearing him say it again, this time in disgust, brought a pang in her heart.

His face hardened with displeasure. “I don’t have the patience for this.”

Did he think she was going to roll over and play dead? She had everything to lose if she quietly gave up. “Sorry. You have me confused with someone else.”

He whipped off his dark sunglasses and glared at her. “No, I don’t. Enough of these games.”

His dark brown eyes ensnared her. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. She had never seen such fury. It wouldn’t take much to unleash it. If she moved, he’ll pounce. “Are you ready to order?”

“Do you think I’m here by chance?” He flicked his hand in the air, the one cutting move indicating his distaste of such an establishment. That it was beneath him to be here, and another mark against her. Add it to her list of sins. “That I find myself in this neighborhood and felt the need for a coffee?”

“You want coffee?” The tips of her fingers were white as gripped her pen and made a heavy scrawl on her notepad. She hoped he didn’t notice how the pen shook. “Milk and sugar?”

His eyes narrowed and she could swear his anger quivered in the air. “You know I take it black,” he said is a raspy low tone.

Dark, black and bitter like his soul. “One coffee coming up,” she said, holding her notepad and pen against her chest as if they could shield her from Antonio’s wrath. She took a cautious step back.

“Bella, one more move….”

“Signorina,” the man from the other table interrupted. “You forgot the—”

“One moment,” Bella pleaded to the other customer as she took the opportunity to shuffle away from Antonio. “I’ll be right back.”

She marched into the kitchen, her eyes on the opened back door. Her rented room was upstairs. She could grab her purse and make a run for it before Antonio came looking for her. If she didn’t need the money and essentials in her purse, she wouldn’t even stop for that. She learned to travel light, zigzagging through Italy, never staying in one city for too long.

She wasn’t going to miss this place, but at least it provided her a roof over her head. She wasn’t sure where to go next, or what challenges she would have to face. Where would be the last place Antonio would look?

Isabella took a step toward the back door just as she felt Antonio’s large hand fall on her shoulder. She still recognized his touch, she thought as her squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off the self-recriminations and longing swirling inside her.

Antonio whirled her around until she faced him. If he hadn’t been holding her tight, she’d have collapsed. She felt so sick. So tired. Of running. Of fighting. Of barely surviving.

Isabella tilted her head back to look him in the eye. She had forgotten how powerfully tall he was. His height and strength used to make her feel safe and protected. Now it made her feel extremely vulnerable.

“Drop the masquerade, Bella,” he said softly, lowering his head until he blocked out the rest of the world. “I’m not falling for it.”

He placed both hands on her shoulders, his fingers digging into her like talons. Antonio surrounded her. She felt caged. Trapped.

“What’s going on here?” her boss’s harsh voice sounded close. “Isabella, what have you done now?”

“I’ll take care of it,” she promised the older man without taking her eyes off Antonio. The moment she realized she answered to her name, she saw the glow of triumph in his brown eyes.

Damn this cold. She hadn’t been able to shake it off, and now she wasn’t at the top of her game when she needed it the most. Why did Antonio have to reappear in her life when she was fragile? He might think he’s got her cornered, but she’ll find an escape route. She had to fight for her freedom, even if she didn’t deserve it.

“Okay, you got me.” She lifted her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t sure if this was the route she wanted to take, but her options were limited. Isabella cast a quick look and saw her boss next to the stove, his undisguised interest on the rich customer in his café. “I’m Isabella.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Antonio said harshly.

“How did you find me?” she asked, delaying the inevitable. She couldn’t have him asking the hard questions. She didn’t know how long she could lie, or how long her deception would hold up under inspection.

Antonio shrugged. “Does it matter?”

She guessed it didn’t to him. While she was wondering what fatal mistake she made, he got the result he wanted, and that was all that mattered. Isabella swallowed hard, tapping into the last of her strength. She felt wobbly and weak, but the fight hadn’t quite left her.

She just wished Antonio could take his hands off her. Her skin stung with awareness as the tension whipped between them like a lash. She couldn’t think straight when he touched her. She never could.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” he drawled softly.

She hoped he wouldn’t, but she knew that Antonio Rossi never lost. Never failed. Never gave up. It was why she was always on the run and looking over her shoulder. The police was a threat, but they were nothing compared to Antonio.

“So now what?” she asked, licking her dry lips and curling her hands into fists. She needed to be calm. Act as if she’d given up. “Have you called the police?” she whispered.

“No, I’m not done with you yet.”

Panic bloomed inside her. Isabella tried to show no expression, but she knew she failed when she saw the glint of dark satisfaction in Antonio’s eyes. The man didn’t just want the money returned. Justice wasn’t the only thing on his mind. He wanted vengeance.

She took a step away from Antonio and was relieved that he let go. “I think I’ll take my chances with the authorities.”

Antonio’s smile offered no reassurance. “You don’t know what I have in mind for you.”

“I can take a wild guess,” Isabella muttered. She used to work for him in his offices and she’d seen what he did to his enemies. It wasn’t pretty. She wrapped her arms around her and rubbed her clammy skin from the sudden chill.

“Isabella!” Her boss yelled. “Get the food to the table before it gets cold.”

She gave a deep sigh which prompted another hacking cough. Isabella doubled over as she shuddered from the pain. She sensed Antonio’s stare and held back a groan.

“How long have you been ill?” he asked sharply.

“Why do you care?” she retorted in a rough voice. She refused to look at him, not wanting him to see just how weak she truly felt. “Or do you think I’m faking it for sympathy.”

“It had crossed my mind,” he admitted. “You’re very good at pretending.”

She straightened to her full height and glared at him. But there was nothing she could say in her defense. And they both knew it.

“Isabella!” her boss barked out.

“Let me just serve this,” Isabella told Antonio as she grabbed the tray of food, “and we won’t be interrupted again.”

She didn’t wait for his answer as she hurried out to the sidewalk. She served the food quickly, almost spilling it. She recovered just in time, murmuring her profuse apologies, but her mind was on possible escape routes. Isabella moved slightly until she was in a blind spot from the kitchen. This was her last chance to make a run for it.

Isabella placed the serving tray on one of the empty tables. She kept her casual pace until she turned the corner. Then she ran as fast as she could down the alley to the back stairs.

As her feet slapped against the pavement, her lungs felt like they were going to explode and the exertion made her wheeze, but she couldn’t stop. Time was of essence. Isabella reached the stairs and climbed them, two steps at a time. She tripped and bruised her knee. For a moment her world spun wildly, but got right back up and kept going.

Her legs burned and shook, but she pushed herself to go faster. Antonio will now realized that she escaped. Any minute he’ll start looking for her.

She reached the door to her room, but didn’t stop to take a breath. She felt nauseous, her throat raw, her ears ringing. It didn’t matter. She needed to get far away and then she’ll rest.

Swinging the door open, Isabella saw her purse on the top of her lumpy mattress. She stepped into the small room and lunged for the purse. As she grasped the shoulder strap, she heard the door bang shut.

Isabella turned around and the room weaved. She saw Antonio resting against the door. He didn’t look surprised or out of breath. From the glimmering rage in his dark eyes, chances were that he had been waiting there for her the moment she stepped out of the kitchen.

“I’m disappointed, Bella,” he said in a dangerously soft tone. “You’re becoming so predictable.”

“I—I…” She blinked as the dark spots gathered along the edges of her eyes. She felt lightheaded, but her arms and legs were unusually heavy. She couldn’t move.

He stepped away from the door and approached her. “I can’t wait to see how you’re going to lie your way out of this one.”

“I…” She needed to move. Run. Fight back.

But just as Antonio reached for her, her head lolled back and she fainted, collapsing at his feet.