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And that was her biggest danger of all. He couldn’t seduce her. He had to send her away. Had to—
Lilley glanced back at him, her lips parted. He saw the tip of her pink tongue dart out to the edge of her mouth and he nearly groaned. He wanted to taste those lips. Plunder her mouth with his. He wanted to rip the clingy red dress off her body, to spread her across his bed, to push himself inside her, to fill her hard and deep—
Basta. He broke out into a hot sweat. As the ambassador droned on to him about the fluidity of Asian exchange rates, all Alessandro could think was that it was a good thing Lilley was standing in front of him, blocking others’ view of his trousers. Where was his self-control?
In front of him, Lilley stiffened. For a moment, Alessandro wondered if she’d felt his desire for her—how could she not? Then he saw she was looking over the crowd.
“Jeremy,” she said in a low voice.
For a moment, Alessandro couldn’t remember what she was talking about. Then his insides burned. He felt envious of this employee in his jewelry-design department, this man who’d had her at his command and let her go.
“Excuse us,” he said to the people surrounding them. Ignoring their protests, he pulled Lilley to a quiet corner next to a window.
“Where is he?” he said, keeping his expression impassive.
“Over there.”
He followed her gaze. His eyes narrowed in the desire to see this paragon but no one stood out to him at all. He felt irritated. Irritated wasn’t a strong enough word. Jealous? No, impossible. Jealousy was for the weak, for sad, vulnerable men who served their hearts on platters to be shredded and devoured.
So he didn’t feel jealous. He felt … annoyed. Sì. Annoyed.
He’d said he would help Lilley get the man back. Now he regretted his promise. Why should he help another, less-deserving man get what he himself wanted—Lilley in his bed?
But if Lilley truly loved this Jeremy, Alessandro would do the honorable thing. He would step aside with the noble self-sacrifice of a damned saint.
“Va bene,” he ground out. “If you still want this idiot, this imbecile without a shred of sense or loyalty, I will help you win him.”
Lilley flashed him a grin. “Um. You’re too kind?”
“Just tell me one thing,” he demanded.
“Only one?”
His fingers moved down her shoulders, stroking down the warm, bare skin of her back. He saw her eyes widen, felt her shiver and he fought back the urge to yank her body hot and hard against his own. “Why would you want him back, after he made you weep?”
Her smile fell. She took a deep breath, then lifted her left wrist. “Look at this.”
A change of subject? He looked down at the bracelet on her wrist. He’d noticed it earlier, a pastiche of welded materials—colorful crystals on a brass chain, interspersed with rusty-looking numbers and held together with a tarnished buckle. “What about it?”
“I made it.”
He grabbed her wrist, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head as he tried to make sense of the bracelet. He pointed to the metal number dangling off the chain. “What’s that?”
“A room number from an eighteenth-century Parisian hotel.”
It seemed strange to him, an artistic hodgepodge of junk. “How do you source the materials?”
“At flea markets and vintage shops, mostly. I create jewelry using old things I find.” She swallowed. “I met Jeremy at San Francisco’s trade show a few months ago, when my employer thought I was visiting my family. Jeremy loved my jewelry. We decided to be partners and open a boutique together. He was going to handle the financials. I would create the inventory.” She blinked fast, and looked away. “When he chose my roommate over me, I lost that dream.”
He could see her eyes were shiny with tears, and his insides gave a little twist. “The man’s a damned fool,” he said roughly. He tried to think of how to comfort her. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he tried. “Running a business is a huge risk. You might have lost your investment. People don’t want old trinkets. They want their jewelry shiny and new.”
Her lips trembled, curving as she looked up. Her eyes were bleak. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”
His attempt at comfort was a clear failure. But Alessandro knew words weren’t enough to make anyone forget the loss of a dream. He had no idea how to make Lilley forget her pain. He knew only one way, the same way he used to forget his own.
But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t allow himself to make love to her.
The orchestra started a new song, and the notes of an exquisite classical waltz swirled around them like cherry blossoms tumbling from the sky. Lilley looked out at the crowded dance floor wistfully.
She’d told him she wasn’t a good dancer, but he didn’t believe that for an instant. He’d seen the sensual way she moved. Even walking, her body swayed like sunset against ocean waves.
But he couldn’t dance with her. His hands tightened at his sides. He was helpless to offer comfort.
Unless he made love to her.
What could it hurt? His lust argued against his brain.
One night of pleasure. A few hours of comfort. One night wouldn’t risk making her fall in love with him. It wasn’t as if she were a virgin.
Although she was shockingly close. Two boyfriends. He still couldn’t believe she’d only been with two men. She truly was innocent. And yet she’d seemed embarrassed of her number. He wondered what she would think if he told her how many women he’d slept with. Something he would never do, even if he knew the number.
“I’m sorry I don’t dance,” he said slowly.
She looked down. “It’s all right.”
The scent of her hair was like wild roses. He moved closer, fascinated by the swoop of her neck, by the snub edge of her chin. Her cheeks blushed a soft pink against creamy skin as her dark eyelashes fluttered. He asked suddenly, “How old are you, Lilley?”
“Twenty-three.” She furrowed her brow. “Why? How old are you?”
“Ancient to you. Thirty-five.”
“Thirty-five, and still not married?” She sounded as astonished as his shareholders. “Where I come from, most people are married by thirty.”
“Advantageous for farm life, I assume.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t exactly come from a—”
“In my world,” he interrupted, “a man marries to ensure his line, to make sure he has a son to inherit his title and estate when he’s dead.”
She flashed him a grin. “Gee, you make it all sound so romantic.”
“It’s not about romance, Lilley,” he said sharply. “Marriage is an alliance. My wife will be a leader in society. An heiress with proper lineage, the future mother to my heir.”
Her grin faded. “Like Olivia Bianchi.”
Even hearing her name irritated him. “Yes.”
Lilley’s eyes were huge beneath the glittering light of the chandeliers. “So if she’s the perfect bride for you, why am I here?”
“She threatened to leave if I didn’t propose, so I told her to go.”
Lilley blinked. “I feel sorry for her.”
He barked a laugh. “Do not waste your sympathy on Olivia. She can take care of herself.”
“She’s in love with you!” She swallowed. “It was wrong of me to agree to this—this charade. When you’re just trying to control her.”
“I have no desire ever to see Olivia again,” he bit out.
She frowned, clearly unconvinced. “When did you decide that?”
His eyes met hers. “I knew it from the moment I saw you in that dress.”
Her lips parted in shock. It took her several moments to speak. “Um. Would you get me a drink?” she croaked. “And maybe some food? I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Certamente,” he murmured. “What would you like? A martini? A merlot?”
“You choose.”
“We’ll start with champagne.” Reaching out a hand, he cupped her cheek. “Wait here, if you please, cara.”
He felt her shiver beneath his touch, saw her lick her lips as she said with a trembling voice, “I’ll wait.”
He turned away, but after a few steps could not resist looking back at her. Lilley stood frozen on the edge of the dance floor, gloriously alluring in her red dress, watching him. She was surrounded by men who were already darting her greedy sideways glances.
Damned vultures. Alessandro scowled. He would hurry.
As he strode across the ballroom, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such need to possess any woman.
And he could have her. She was free and ripe for the taking. Yes, she was his employee, but he was the one who’d made that rule. He was the boss. He could break his own rules at will.
Alessandro thought again of the ten bedrooms at his villa. An image floated through his mind of Lilley spread naked on his bed, her full, generous mouth curved into a sensual smile, her deep-brown eyes looking up at him with a haze of longing and need. He nearly stumbled over his own feet.
And just like that, his decision was made. His body tightened as exhilaration raced through him. Employee or not, Lilley would be his.
Tonight. He would have her in his bed tonight.
CHAPTER THREE
LILLEY felt men in tuxedos jostle her on the edge of the dance floor, felt the annoyed glare of chic, half-starved women in black designer gowns around her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. Alessandro’s dark head towered above the crowds as he strode towards the bar, trailed by wide-eyed, adoring groupies.
And she was rapidly becoming one of them. Lilley exhaled. What in heaven’s name was she doing? He’d told her outright that their date would only be an illusion. And yet, all night, Alessandro’s eyes, his touch, had told her differently. Her body felt hot, her skin flushed and pink at the memory of his fingertips stroking her bare back. Of his fingers running lightly along her arm, his lips brushing her cheek.
Just being around him made her feel like a different woman. A bolder, braver one.
She didn’t know why or how. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. The way his hard, muscular body felt against her own. Maybe it was his scent, like exotic lands and spice and sunshine. He made her feel tense and tingly and hot, and made her soul feel all jumbled and confused.
He made her feel a hunger she’d never known, and every moment she was near him, the hunger grew.
Lilley swallowed, rubbing her tense neck. She just had to make it through the night. She’d keep her distance, keep her mouth shut, have some dinner and drink champagne for a couple of hours. Surely she could manage that? And tomorrow, it would all be nothing but a dream. On Monday she could go back to the file room, and Prince Alessandro Caetani would forget her existence.
She couldn’t possibly believe his interest in her could be real. There was no way on the green earth that Alessandro would choose Lilley over Olivia Bianchi.
I have no desire ever to see Olivia again. She heard the echo of his husky voice. I knew it from the moment I saw you in that dress.
An electric current coursed through her body at the memory. She couldn’t forget how he’d pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he spoke to politicians and football stars. She couldn’t forget how his hot gaze had slowly perused the length of her body when they’d left the boutique, or the way he’d protected her past the paparazzi. A strange new tension had consumed her all night, causing her heart to beat too fast and her breasts to rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths against the snug bodice of her gown.
Maybe it was a good thing Alessandro didn’t dance after all. If she felt his hard body swaying against hers, she might have hyperventilated and fallen like a stone on the dance floor. Every time their eyes met, every time he touched her, Lilley wanted things she could barely confess, even to herself.
“Lilley?”
Jeremy stood in front of her, his mouth agape at her tight red dress. He pushed up his black-framed glasses. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh. Hi Jeremy,” Lilley said weakly. Licking her lips, she glanced at the black-haired woman behind him. “Hi, Nadia.”
Her roommate’s face was the picture of misery. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Lilley,” she choked out. “We never meant to hurt you. We never meant …”
“Stop apologizing,” Jeremy told her. His Adam’s apple bobbed over his bow tie as he glared at Lilley. “We would have told you days ago, if you’d let us. But you’ve avoided us. Avoided me.”
Lilley’s mouth had fallen open. “That’s ridiculous!”
“I wish you’d just had the guts to tell me from the start you didn’t want me, rather than pawning me off on Nadia. Is it any wonder we fell for each other? You were never there!”
Lilley shook her head fiercely. “You’re just making excuses. You know I had to work! You’re entirely to blame!”
His gaze met hers. “Am I?” His eyes traveled down her full, bouncy hair to the knit dress clinging to her breasts. “You sure never dressed like that for me. You’re clearly here with someone you actually care about. Who is he, Lilley?”
It was time for her to lower the boom. Time to get revenge for their betrayal. As soon as she told them her date was Alessandro, they’d be shocked and jealous. Lilley opened her lips.
Then she saw Jeremy’s hand on the small of Nadia’s back.
It was a protective gesture, one Lilley had resisted every time Jeremy had tried to touch her. The truth was that, after one fun weekend at the trade show, their relationship had always been strained. She’d quit her job in France and moved to San Francisco to start this big new life, but she hadn’t done anything to pursue her dreams. When Jeremy had tried to kiss her, she’d pulled away. She’d avoided being with him, coming up with excuses to stay at work a little longer. Looking back at their relationship, Lilley couldn’t blame him for wanting to be with Nadia, a girl who actually had time for him, and who, as she’d seen to her shock that morning, actually seemed to relish his kisses.
She’d never loved him. The truth was, what hurt the most was losing her dream of the boutique. She couldn’t start a business without Jeremy, she didn’t have the remotest idea how to create a business plan or legally register her company or build a clientele. All she knew how to do was design jewelry that was funny and weird and definitely not for everyone.
She’d had such big dreams. And when he’d broken up with her, he’d ended them.
No. She’d done that herself, by never lifting a finger to pursue them.
“Who’s your date, Lilley?” Nadia said hopefully through her tears. “Have you met someone?”
Maybe Jeremy had cheated on her, but she’d abandoned and rejected him for months. Maybe Nadia had taken her boyfriend behind her back—but hadn’t Lilley begged her roommate to please, please make her excuses to Jeremy as she scurried off to work?
They’d been wrong. But Lilley had been a coward from start to finish.
Trembling, Lilley faced them. “I’m here with … with …” She swallowed, then lifted her chin. “A friend. I’m here with a new friend.”
She turned to Jeremy.
“And you were right,” she said. “I was never there. Not for you. And not for our business. I had all these dreams, but I was afraid even to try. I’m—I’m sorry.”
Jeremy blinked, and the angry light in his eyes faded. “I’m sorry too,” he said. “You’re a nice person, Lilley, sweet and generous. You didn’t deserve to find out about Nadia and me that way.” He gave her an awkward smile. “I always liked you. But after you moved to San Francisco, you just … disappeared.”
“I know.” Her throat hurt. Every time Jeremy had made an appointment for them—at a bank, with a potential investor, with a real estate agent—she’d suddenly had somewhere else to be. She’d hidden behind her work. Her fear had won. “I’m sorry.”
“Can you ever forgive me, Lilley?” Nadia whispered.
Lilley tried to smile. “Maybe if you do the dishes for the rest of the month.”
“I will. Two months. Three!”
“And I’m sorry the boutique didn’t work out.” Jeremy rubbed the back of his sandy-blond head sheepishly. “I still think your jewelry is fantastic. You’re just not ready to take the plunge. But maybe someday …”
“Right,” she said over the lump in her throat, knowing it was a lie. “Someday.”
Her roommate was openly crying as she leaned forward and hugged Lilley, whispering, “Thank you.”
Lilley’s throat hurt as she watched Jeremy and Nadia disappear into the crowd. Then she heard a dark, sardonic voice behind her.
“You didn’t tell them about me.”
She whirled around. “Alessandro.”
“I was waiting to see you take your revenge.” His tall, muscular body moved with a warrior’s grace as he held out a flute of champagne. “Why didn’t you tell them?”
“Because Jeremy was right. I never wanted him. Not really.” She took the champagne flute from his hand and said softly, “If I don’t have the guts to pursue my dreams, I shouldn’t be angry if other people do.”
“You could have made them suffer.” His dark eyes were puzzled, almost bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us,” she whispered, and took a long drink of champagne. The bubbles were a cold shock against her lips as she tilted back her head, gulping it all down. She closed her eyes, waiting for the alcohol to reach her brain and make her forget how she’d been so afraid to risk failure that she’d made it a self-fulfilling prophecy.
What was the point in her avoiding risk, if she ended up losing everything anyway?
“You’re crying.” Alessandro sounded aghast.
She exhaled, wiping her eyes. “No.”
“I saw his face when he looked at you. He could still be yours for the taking, if you chose.”
Lilley thought of the stricken expression on Nadia’s face. Thought of the way Jeremy’s hand had lingered protectively on her roommate’s back. Thought of the way Lilley had never, not for one instant, felt a single spark of physical attraction for Jeremy—something she’d never even noticed until she’d experienced the lightning sizzle of electricity with Alessandro.
She shook her head. “I wish them all the best.”
“God, you are so nice,” he whispered, pushing back wavy tendrils of her hair. “How can you be so—merciful?”
An unexpected bolt of pain went through her. Another man calling her nice. Another word for timid. Terrified. Coward. No wonder Alessandro had called her little mouse.
Blinking fast, she looked down at her scandalous red dress and sexy high heels. “Do you think I’m a coward?” she whispered.
“What are you talking about?” Taking her empty flute, he pressed his own full glass into her hand. “Here. Drink this.”
She looked up at him, her eyes full of unshed tears. “I shouldn’t have said that aloud. You must think—”
“I think nothing.” His dark gaze seared through her soul. “Never apologize for telling me what you’re thinking. You can’t hurt me. There is nothing between us, so you risk nothing.”
She blinked at him, feeling quivery. “Now you’re the one who is being nice.”
He snorted, then shook his head, a small smile playing on his sensual mouth. “That is one accusation I’ve never heard before. Now drink.”
Obediently, she took a sip. As she drank, she heard him muse aloud, “Delicious, isn’t it? I just bought the winery from a Brazilian. Cost me a fortune.” His lips curved. “But it gives me a great deal of pleasure, since I know it infuriates my worst enemy.”
Lilley’s eyes flew open as she pulled the flute from her lips. She said faintly, “Not the St. Raphaël vineyard.”
“Ah, you recognize it?” He smiled in satisfaction. “It once belonged to the Count of Castelnau. Now it is mine.”
“You don’t say,” Lilley said faintly, feeling sick. She’d heard Théo, her cousin and former employer, rage about losing that vineyard in a business deal to a Brazilian. It was only after he’d lost it that he’d realized its value. Typical, she thought. People were so much better at pursuing things they didn’t need instead of enjoying what they already had.
But the two men had competed over acquisitions with growing ferocity for the last five years, ever since Théo had bought a small Italian luxury firm that Alessandro considered rightfully his by geography. If he ever found out she was Théo’s cousin, he’d never believe Lilley wasn’t a corporate spy. Especially after catching her in his office, all alone in the dark!
Her knees trembled. He caught her. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking concerned. “Did you drink the champagne too quickly?”
She looked up at him. She’d left her father’s and cousin’s names off her résumé because she’d known Caetani Worldwide would have never hired her otherwise, in spite of Jeremy’s recommendation, no matter how honest or hard-working she might be. But telling Alessandro the truth would gain her nothing, and would cost her her job—forcing her to go home to her father and perhaps even consider his demand that she marry his employee, a man twice her age.
“Lilley?”
“I just need something to eat,” she managed. “I haven’t eaten all day.” She gave him a weak smile. “And I did jog a half mile.”
“Of course.” Taking the half-finished flute from her hands, he set both glasses on the silver tray of a passing waiter and gave her a sudden grin. “I’ve arranged for a private dinner of sorts. My driver has taken a selection from the buffet to the limo. We’ll enjoy a little picnic on the way home.”
“A picnic? In your limo?” she said faintly. She shook her head, feeling dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with champagne. With a wistful sigh, she looked back at the glamorous ballroom. “All right. I just—didn’t expect it all to end so quickly.”
“All good things come to an end,” he said, holding out his hand.
Reluctantly, she took it. He led her across the ballroom, stopping many times to say farewell to his friends and admirers before they finally escaped up the stairs, through the foyer and out the double doors.
Outside, beneath the hundred-year-old mansion’s shadowy portico, the August night was foggy and cold. “It must be midnight,” she murmured.
“Almost. How did you know?”
“Because all night I’ve felt like Cinderella.” She looked up at him, and gratitude, real gratitude, rose above her regret that the night was over. “Thank you for the best night of my life.”
He blinked, then frowned. Abruptly, he pushed her against a white stone column. She shivered as she felt the cold, hard stone against the hot skin of her back.
“I don’t think you understand,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not taking you to your home.” He paused. “I’m taking you to mine.”
She stared at him in shock, hearing only her own hoarse breath and the rapid beat of her heart.
“You’re my employee. There are rules.” Alessandro’s eyes were dark with heat, his dark hair dappled with streaks of silvery moonlight as he held her beneath the shadows of the portico. “But I’m going to break them,” he whispered. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Staring up at him, Lilley felt as though she was lost in a strange dream. Tendrils of hair whipped across her face; the fabric of her dress moved languorously against her thighs.
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