The man caught her before she could hit the floor. Lifting her as if she weighed nothing, he held her against his chest. "You're done here." He growled, and started carrying her toward the door.

She blinked up at him, feeling dazed and lightheaded—and not just because of nearly fainting. Being close to this stranger, being cradled in his arms, did strange things to her heart rate. He was as darkly handsome as any hero from a novel. As he carried her past the counter, her eyes fell upon her battered paperback copy of Wuthering Heights poking out of her bag on the floor.

But this dark, handsome stranger wasn't Heathcliff. And she certainly wasn't pampered, spoiled Cathy. Romantic tales had nothing to do with real life. She'd learned that the hard way. Mari shook herself out of her reverie. "Where are you taking me?"

"Out of here."

"Put me down!" Every insane man in Chicago seemed to be stopping by tonight—all to them intent on ruining her life! She kicked and struggled in his arms. "Let me go!"

Abruptly he released her, and she slid down his impossibly hard, impeccably dressed body. Her own body broke out in a cold sweat as she stood somewhat shakily on her own two feet.

"I think the phrase you're looking for." The man said, "Is thank you."

She'd been grateful to the man for saving her from Michael's advance, but now..what did Mari care about some forced kiss, when her baby might soon have no home? "Thank you?" She demanded furiously. "For what? For getting me fired? I could have handled Michael just fine if you hadn't interfered!"

"Si." His sensual mouth curved upward. "You obviously had the situation well in hand."

She ground her jaw. "You're going to call him right now and tell him you're sorry!"

"I am sorry only that I didn't use his face to mop your dirty floor."

If she didn't get her job back, she would be forced to take her baby to a homeless shelter. If all the shelters were full, which was likely during Chicago's cold, hard winter, they'd have to live out of Mari's decrepit old hatchback, on the street, freezing.. And it was all her fault for not doing a better job at protecting her daughter.

Terror ripped through here. "I need this job!"

"No. You do not." He looked down at her, so handsome, with the calm arrogance that only came from wealth. "You cannot pretend you took this job out of anything but desperation."

Mari felt sick at his accurate appraisal of her situation. With no saving and few marketable skills, Mari had worked at low-paying job since Bailey's father had deserted them a week before her birth. She'd had to work constantly just to survive, since she'd foolishly given up her hard-won college scholarship to be with him. And he'd left Mari with nothing but his baby in her belly and the memory of his whispered promises.

For the past year, she'd held their heads above water by such a thin margin. One mistake like this could suck them under. She couldn't let them drown!

"Please." She whispered, though she knew it was hopeless. "You don't know what will happen if I lose this job."

He looked down at her. Reaching out a broad, strong-fingered hand, he gently lifted her chin. "You have nothing to fear ever again. You are mine now, Marina. And I protect what is mine."

She was his? What was he talking about? Then she realized what he'd called her: Marina

"How—how did you know my name?" Mari stammered.

"I know more about you than you can imagine. And I'm here to make your dreams come true."

Her dreams? A snug, warm little house surrounded by sunshine and flowers. Her daughter growing up happy and secure. Having someone to love, instead of always being alone, fighting just to survive. Pulling away from his touch, she angrily shook the images from her mind.

"My only dream is for you to call Michael and beg for forgiveness."

His dark eyebrows rose. "That is indeed a fantasy."

"What did you think I would say? That my dream was to spend a night in your bed, having you make love to me for hours on end?" She'd meant to be sarcastic, but he gave her a hot glance that made her shiver, and wonder if her words were truer than she'd thought.

"I offer you revenge." He said. "Against the man who hurt you."

"I told you. Michael didn't do anything. You came before—"

"Randal Orton." He bit out.

At the name, she felt the blood drain from her face. "What?"

"I will make him regret the day he abandoned you and your child to starve." His blue eyes burned through her. "You are going to come with me to Italy and live in luxury for the rest of your life."

He wanted to take her to Italy?

Italy. The warm, beautiful land Mari had dreamed of since she was twelve years old, watching, A Room with a View on TV during her mother's last night in the hospital. Even her mom's final words to her had been, Go to Italy, Mari…Go…"

But Mari had never left Illinois. She'd lived in foster homes until she was eighteen, then worked and scrimped her way into college. Her sophomore year, working at a department store, she'd met a handsome, smooth-talking man who spoke Italian—the vice president of a fashion house based out of New York. He delighted her with stories of Rome, promising to someday take her to visit.

Mari had never met a man like Randy Orton. A man so magical…so glamorous…so exotic. She'd dropped out of college, giving up all her hard work simply because he'd complained that school took, too much of her time. She'd fallen like a brick.

She was still falling. The dream had become a nightmare. He'd fled to Rome, beyond the reach of Chicago's child support laws. For the last year, he'd returned all her letter and photographs unopened. He'd sent her one curt note, telling her he was in love with someone else. He'd suggested that Bailey was not his child and that Mari was either a delusional stalker or a gold-digging whore.

It had nearly killed her. But she was fine now. Really. She could live with a broken heart. What she couldn't understand was how he could deny their child. How he could live in luxury, drinking wine, taking lovers, enjoying a warm, beautiful city—when he'd left his innocent baby behind to suffer? If Mari went to Italy, she could ask him.

Looking up at the dark stranger, she licked her dry lips. "Let me get this straight. You want to take me to Italy?"

He gave her a sensual smile. "Si. And you will never worry about money again."

She almost couldn't breathe. The man hadn't been lying—it really was an offer straight out of her wildest dreams. To never have to scrimp again, wake up in a terrified panic in the middle of the night, wondering how she'd pay her bills. To know Bailey was safe and warm and secure forever.

And she could see Randy. He'd been able to ignore her letters, but he couldn't ignore her if she showed up at his office, could he? Once she showed him a picture of Bailey, he would come to his senses. He would love their beautiful baby. Once he saw their daughter, once she was real to him, how could he do anything but love her?

Mari accepted that he'd moved on to another woman. But she couldn't bear for Bailey to grow up without a father, as she herself had. Without a father, Mari had no one to love or protect her when her mother had died…

"So you agree?" The dark stranger said coolly.

Mari clasped her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. "I don't understand. Why do you want to take me to Italy? How would that hurt Randy?"

The man gave a cold smile. "He will realize how great a fool he was to let you go."

A laugh rose in her throat so bitter it nearly choked her. "How so?"

"He will lose something he wants. Something that rightfully belongs to me." The man reached forward, touching her shoulder. His latent power and sensuality burned through her blue cashier's smock, sending a current of heat pouring through her veins like lava. "We will make him pay, Marina." His intense eyes mesmerized her. "All you have to do is say yes."

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