The Best of the Year - Modern Romance 2016

Wearing the De Angelis Ring

Cathy Williams

Leonetti’s Housekeeper Bride

Lynne Graham

The Italian’s Ruthless Seduction

Miranda Lee

The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition

Sharon Kendrick

A Tycoon to Be Reckoned With

Julia James

An Heir to Make a Marriage

Abby Green

Moretti’s Marriage Command

Kate Hewitt

Carides’s Forgotten Wife

Maisey Yates

A Ring for Vincenzo’s Heir

Jennie Lucas

A Deal with Alejandro

Maya Blake

A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper

Susan Stephens

The Guardian’s Virgin Ward

Caitlin Crews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Wearing the De Angelis Ring

Introduction

The Italian Titans

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Leonetti’s Housekeeper Bride

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

The Italian’s Ruthless Seduction

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Rich, Ruthless and Renowned

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition

Introduction

Dear Reader

Wedlocked!

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

A Tycoon to Be Reckoned With

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

An Heir to Make a Marriage

Back Cover Text

Introduction

One Night With Consequences

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Moretti’s Marriage Command

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Carides’s Forgotten Wife

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

A Ring for Vincenzo’s Heir

Back Cover Text

Introduction

One Night With Consequences

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

A Deal with Alejandro

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Rival Brothers

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Wedlocked!

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

The Guardian’s Virgin Ward

Back Cover Text

Introduction

One Night With Consequences

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

Wearing the De Angelis Ring

Cathy Williams

‘Are you suggesting that I actually want you to … to …?’

‘Kiss you? That’s exactly what I’m suggesting …’

‘Then you couldn’t be further from the mark!’ Alexa snapped, blushing furiously and hating him for reminding her of their kiss, which she would rather have forgotten. ‘I’m fine with you being …being attentive when we’re out together, but the last thing I want is to be kissed by you! Do you know something, Theo De Angelis? You’re the most egotistic, arrogant man I have ever met!’

‘I know. I think you told me already. But you make a valid point … just in case …’

She sensed what he was about to do and yet it still took her by surprise, and this time there was an urgency to his kiss that hadn’t been there before. His mouth assailed her, his tongue seeking out hers.

The Italian Titans

Temptation personified!

Theo and Daniel De Angelis have never wanted for anything. These influential Italians command empires and conduct every liaison on their terms … until now.

Because these enigmatic tycoons are about to face their greatest challenge in the most unlikely of forms— two gorgeous girls with demands of their own!

Find out what happens next in:

Theo’s Story:

Wearing the De Angelis Ring

January 2016

Daniel’s Story:

The Surprise De Angelis Baby

February 2016

CATHY WILLIAMS can remember reading Mills & Boon Modern Romance books as a teenager, and now that she is writing them she remains an avid fan. For her, there is nothing like creating romantic stories and engaging plots, and each and every book is a new adventure. Cathy lives in London and her three daughters—Charlotte, Olivia and Emma—have always been, and continue to be, the greatest inspiration in her life.

CHAPTER ONE

‘YOU’RE NOT GOING to like what I’m about to say.’

The very second Stefano had called his son and told him that he needed to speak with him as a matter of urgency, Theo had dropped everything and taken the first flight over to Italy, to his father’s enormous estate just outside Rome.

Stefano De Angelis was not a man given to drama, and both Theo and his brother, Daniel, had spent the past five years worrying about him. He had never really recovered from the death of his wife, their mother, Rose. The power house who had built a personal fortune from scratch had collapsed into himself, retreating to the sanctuary of his den, immune to the efforts of both his sons to pull him out of his grief. He had continued to eat, sleep, talk and walk, but his soul had departed, leaving only a physical shell behind.

What, Theo thought now, was he about to hear?

Cold fear gripped him.

‘Have you asked Daniel as well?’ He prowled through the huge sitting room, idly gazing through the window to the sprawling lawns, before finally taking a seat opposite his father.

‘This situation does not concern your brother,’ Stefano returned, his dark eyes sidestepping his son’s piercing green ones.

Theo breathed a sigh of relief. If Daniel hadn’t been likewise summoned, then at least a health crisis could be discounted. He had been tempted to phone his brother on the back of his father’s summons, but had resisted the impulse because he knew that Daniel was in the throes of a balancing act: trying to close a major deal and a minor love affair at the same time.

The deal, his brother had confided several days ago, when he had called from his penthouse apartment in Sydney, was a walk in the park compared to the woman who had been making noises about taking what they had ‘one step further’, and didn’t show any promise of retreating without putting up a fight.

‘So tell me... What am I not going to like to hear?’ Theo encouraged.

‘As you are well aware, son...’ Stefano’s hooded dark eyes gazed off into the distance ‘...things have not been good with me since your mother died. When my beloved Rose went, she took a big part of me with her.’

‘Of us all.’

‘But you and your brother are young. I, on the other hand, am an old man—and you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks. Perhaps if her death hadn’t been so sudden... Perhaps if I had had time to get used to the idea of her absence...’ He sighed. ‘But this is not why I called you here, Theo. To moan and complain about something that cannot be changed. I called you here because during the time that I was...shall we say mentally not present, certain unfortunate things took place within the company.’

Theo stilled. His keen eyes noted the nervous play of his father’s entwined fingers. His father was the least nervous man he had ever known.

‘Unfortunate things...?’

‘There has been some substantial mismanagement,’ Stefano declared bluntly. ‘And worse, I am afraid. Alfredo, my trusted co-director, has been involved in large-scale embezzlement which has only recently been drawn to my attention. It’s a wonder the press hasn’t got hold of it. The upshot, Theo, is that vast sums of money—including most of the pension funds—have been hijacked.’

Theo sat back, his lean, handsome face revealing nothing of what was going through his mind.

It was a problem, yes—but a serious one? Not really. At any rate nothing that he couldn’t handle.

‘If you’re worried about the man getting what he deserves, then you can leave that to me,’ Theo asserted with cold confidence, his sharp, analytical brain already formulating ways in which payback could be duly extracted. ‘And if you’re worried about the lost money, then likewise. It will be nothing for me to return what’s been misappropriated. No one will ever know.’

‘It’s not that easy, Theo.’

And Theo knew that now they were approaching the heart of the problem—the reason why he had been summoned.

‘I would never ask either you or Daniel for financial assistance!’ Stefano glowered, his fighting spirit temporarily restored as he contemplated the unthinkable. ‘You boys have made your own way in the world and my pride would never allow me to run to either of you with my begging bowl...’

Theo shook his head in frustration at his father’s pride—which, he had to concede, both he and Daniel had inherited in bucketloads. ‘It would not have been a question of—’

‘I’m afraid I went to Carlo Caldini,’ Stefano said abruptly. ‘There was no choice. The bank was not an option—not when there was a significant chance that they would turn down my request. If that had happened, then the business... Well, what can I say? Everything your mother and I built would have been thrown into the public arena to be picked over by hyenas! At least with Carlo we can keep this between us...’

Theo pressed the pads of his thumbs against his eyes.

Carlo Caldini had once been his father’s closest friend and now, for longer than he could remember, was his fiercest adversary. The fact that he had seen fit to go to Carlo for help threatened to bring on a raging headache.

There was absolutely no doubt that whatever his father was going to tell him Theo was not going to want to hear it.

‘And what’s his price?’ he asked, because there was no such thing as a free lunch—and when the lunch was with a sworn enemy then it was going to be the opposite of free.

Exorbitant was the word that sprang to mind.

Stefano fidgeted. ‘You’re not getting any younger, Theo. You’re thirty-two years old! Your mother dearly wished that she would see one of you boys settled... It wasn’t to be...’

‘I’m not following you...’

‘All of this unravelled over eight months ago,’ Stefano said heavily. ‘During that time it proved impossible to repay the loan. It’s been an uphill struggle just picking apart the extent of the losses and dealing with Alfredo...’

‘And you kept it all to yourself!’

‘There seemed little point in worrying you or your brother.’

‘Just tell me what ruinous interest rates Carlo has imposed and I’ll deal with it.’

‘Here is the part you may not like, son...’

‘I’m all ears.’

When it came to money there was nothing Theo couldn’t buy, and naturally he would pay the bill without complaint—although he was furious with his father for thinking it necessary to seek help outside the direct family circle.

Pride.

‘As you know, Carlo has a daughter. An only child. Sadly there were to be no sons for him.’

Even in the thick of disclosing what he knew his son would not want to hear Stefano couldn’t quite conceal the smugness in his voice, and Theo raised his eyebrows wryly. He had never known what had caused the enmity between his father and Carlo, but he suspected that the lifelong grudge stemmed from something ridiculously insignificant.

‘What has that got to do with anything?’ he asked, frankly bewildered at the tangent his father had taken.

‘Alexa... I think you may have met her... Or perhaps not... Well, it seems that the girl is not yet married, and Carlo...’ Stefano shrugged. ‘He is saddened at that—as I would be had I had a daughter... So part of the repayment schedule—which, in fairness to that sly old fox, is more lenient than at any bank—is that you help him out of his predicament with Alexa. In other words, Theo, I have promised him your hand in marriage to the girl...’

* * *

Alexa glared down at the outfit her mother had laid out for her to wear.

Something ‘suitable’ to meet a man she had no wish to meet, far less marry. A wildly ridiculous frothy dress in startling blue that swept down to the ankles with a plunging neckline and an even more ridiculously plunging back.

She was to be paraded in front of Theo De Angelis like a sacrificial lamb.

She wanted to storm out of the house, head for the nearest port and take a boat to the opposite end of the world—where she would hide out for maybe ten years, until this whole ludicrous situation had been sorted out.

Without her involvement.

At first, when her father had sat her down and told her that she was to be married to a De Angelis, she had thought that he was joking.

An arranged marriage? In this day and age? To a son of the man with whom he had had a stupid, simmering feud for thirty-five years? What else could it have been but a joke?

That had been a week ago—plenty long enough for her to discover that her father had been deadly serious.

‘The poor man is in serious financial trouble.’ Carlo Caldini had opened up to her in an attempt to pull at her heartstrings. He had looked at her with a sad expression and mournful eyes. ‘True, he and I have not seen eye to eye over the years...’

‘All thirty-five of them, Papà...’

‘But in the end who else does one turn to but a friend? I would have done the same in his position...’

Alexa had been baffled at this show of seemingly heart-wrenching empathy, but if her father had deemed it fit to rush to the rescue of a man he had spent over three decades deriding, then so be it. What did it have to do with her?

Everything, as it had transpired.

She had been bartered like a...a...piece of meat!

She adored her father, but she would still have dug her heels in and point-blank refused had he not pulled out his trump card—in the shape of her mother.

Cora Caldini, recovering from a stroke, was under doctor’s orders to take it easy. No stress, her family had been warned. And, more than that, her father had confided, this last stroke had been the most serious of three... Her heart was weak and all her talk was of her mortality, of her dying before she could see her only child married and settled. What if something happened to her? her father had asked. What if she was taken away from them before her only wish could be granted?

Caught in the eye of a hurricane, Alexa had ranted and raved, had stood her ground with rousing lectures about modern times, about arranged marriages being a thing of the past. She had pointed out, arms folded, that they hadn’t had their marriage arranged so why should she? She had waxed lyrical about the importance of love, even though she didn’t know the first thing about that. She had darkly suggested that the last thing Cora Caldini would want would be a phoney marriage for all the wrong reasons...

In the end she had gained the only concession that she could. If she married the man then it would be on her terms. After a year of unhappy enforced marital misery she would be free to divorce and Stefano De Angelis would be released from his debt. Her father had quickly acquiesced.

Now, with the man due to arrive at their mansion within the hour, she gritted her teeth and returned the elaborate blue dress to the wardrobe from which it had been removed.

She wasn’t going to dress up like a doll for a man whose reputation as a commitment-phobe womaniser spanned the country and beyond. There had been no need to look him up on the Internet because she knew all about him—and his brother. Theo and Daniel De Angelis, cut from the same cloth, both ruthless tycoons, both far too good-looking for their own good.

Despite her privileged background, Alexa had made it her life’s mission to avoid men like them. She had plenty experience with the superficiality of men who had money and power. She had been surrounded with them for years. She had seen the way they always took it as their God-given right that they could do as they pleased and treat women as they liked simply because they could.

She disapproved of everything Theo De Angelis stood for. Certainly the sort of men she preferred had always been of the thoughtful and considerate variety.

When she thought about love she thought about her parents—thought about being swept off her feet by someone kind and humorous, with whom she could enjoy the sort of united happiness her parents enjoyed. When she contemplated marriage she knew that there would be no compromises made. She would marry her soulmate—the man whose hand she would want to hold for the rest of her life. She had met sufficient idle, arrogant, self-absorbed and vain rich guys—guys exactly like Theo De Angelis—to know that she would never find her soulmate amongst them.

And look at her now! So much for all her ideals!

She showered, taking her time because she certainly wasn’t going to scuttle down to the drawing room to wait for him—like an eager bride-to-be, thrilled to nab a man the tabloid press had once labelled the most eligible bachelor alive.

And she wasn’t going to wear the blue dress—or any dress, for that matter. In fact she wasn’t going to wear anything that displayed her body at all.

She chose a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting blouse that was buttoned to the neck and then, taut with suppressed anger at her situation, stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Long, wavy dark hair, pulled back into a no-nonsense bun, framed an oval face. Like her father, she was olive-skinned, with dark eyebrows and thick, dark eyelashes, but from her mother she had inherited her bright turquoise eyes. Her best feature, as far as she was concerned—because the rest did little to excite the imagination. She wasn’t long and leggy, and she had stopped being able to fit into a size eight the second she had hit adolescence. Hers, to her eternal regret, was an unfashionable five-foot-four hourglass figure—the sort that personal trainers over the years had tried and failed to whip into shape.

She heard voices before she reached the drawing room because the door was open, and was assailed by a sudden attack of nerves.

It was one thing pouring scorn on the likes of Theo De Angelis from the relative safety of her bedroom.

It was quite another holding on to her self-righteous, justifiable fury when he was perched on a chair, metres away from her, just out of sight.

She had never seen him in the flesh. He lived in London, but even if he had lived in Rome she probably wouldn’t have seen him anyway, because she made a point of avoiding society dos whenever possible.

Heart beating fast, she took a deep breath and entered the drawing room.

Drinks were being served and her parents were sitting opposite him, their body language indicating that they were delighted with whatever he happened to be saying.

Conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Alexa had never thrived on being the centre of attention. Along with her background of vast wealth, she had grown up in circles where the girls were catty and where looks counted for everything. Trapped in a figure that had always catapulted her in the direction of baggy clothes, she had learned to leave the attention-seeking to others, and once she had left school had turned her back on it completely.

Right now she found herself riveted by the long, lean man, relaxing in a deep velvet chair which he seemed to dwarf.

Photos could say so much, but they had given her very little indication of just how big and muscular he was. They had also not prepared her for the sheer outrageousness of his looks. He was drop-dead gorgeous. His hair was cropped short and black, his features perfectly chiselled, his eyes lazy and the most peculiar shade of green she had ever seen, fringed with the sort of luxurious lashes any woman would have given her eye-teeth for.

He was as beautiful as any human being had a right to be...and yet the air of ruthless power that surrounded him like an invisible cloak removed him from being just an incredible-looking man to being a man who drew stares and held on to them.

For a few seconds Alexa’s heart seemed to stop and she lost the ability to blink.

But that only lasted for a few seconds and then reality resurfaced, rescuing her from standing there like a stranded goldfish.

Her parents had stood up to make introductions. She didn’t take a step closer to him, and neither did he make any move to rush forward. In fact he remained sitting just long enough for her to wonder whether a complete lack of manners was also part of his personality.

‘Why didn’t you wear the lovely dress I laid out for you on the bed?’ her mother whispered, in clear dismay at her choice of clothes.

‘I decided that the casual approach was better than showing up in a Cinderella frock. Have you noticed that the man is wearing jeans? I wouldn’t say he dressed for the occasion, would you?’

She directed a cool smile at him as one of the staff got busy with a bottle of champagne and the business of polite conversation began.

With her parents there some of the pressure was removed, but she still found herself sitting like a rigid plank of wood, back erect, body screaming with tension. When, after half an hour, her parents rose and informed them that they were going out for dinner, she glanced up at her mother with undisguised panic.

‘You two should have some time to enjoy yourselves!’ Cora chirruped brightly. ‘Elena has prepared something, and you can dine informally in the blue room...’

Alexa wondered whether her mother had taken complete leave of her senses.

Enjoy themselves?

Didn’t she realise that this was an absolute nightmare? No, of course she didn’t. She thought that, yes, it was an arranged union—but one that had been happily accepted by both parties. And she wouldn’t have questioned that any further because it was so much what she wanted. Her daughter married and settled.

The door clicked quietly shut behind them and Alexa stared down at her half-drunk glass of champagne. She could feel those fabulous green eyes looking at her, and it infuriated her that he felt he had no need to say anything at all.

‘So...’ She finally broke the lengthening silence. She glanced quickly at him and just as fast looked away.

‘So...’ Theo drawled, stretching out his long legs and linking his fingers loosely on his stomach. ‘Here we are. I never imagined two weeks ago that I would now be sitting in the Caldini living room, gazing at the excited, radiant face of my bride-to-be...’

What had he been expecting? he asked himself. The fact that Carlo Caldini—a man with more millions than he knew what to do with—had been unable to source a husband for the daughter he clearly wanted married off had said it all.

Plain beyond belief, with an insanely boring personality—that had been the prediction his brother had made, when he had been told about the catastrophe, and Theo had privately agreed. He and Daniel might no longer live in Italy, but they were rich and powerful enough to garner invitations from everyone who mattered, and neither could remember ever meeting the girl—which, along with her failure to be married off, had also said it all.

But, finding himself locked in the jaws of a steel trap, Theo had determined to make the best of things. Because, however odious the woman was, no marriage was set in stone. There was always a window for negotiation when it came to an out clause, and Theo had already located it.

In the meanwhile he had imagined someone unappealing and terminally shy, who would make a suitable background spouse while his father’s company was patched up from the inside. All things considered, he had come to the conclusion that his life would hardly have to change at all. She would remain in Italy, dutifully keeping the home fires burning, he would visit occasionally, work permitting, and she would not complain.

When Alexa had walked into the drawing room he had been startled to discover that she was nothing like the woman he had conjured up in his head.

She was...

He still wasn’t entirely sure—and that was a first for him. For if it was one thing Theo De Angelis excelled in, it was an ability to read a woman in under five seconds.

She had sat in mute silence for most of the half hour during which laboured chit chat had been made, with both Carlo and Cora Caldini making sure to tread very carefully around the giant elephant in the room: namely the matter of an arranged marriage.

Cora, he had been told by her husband, knew that the marriage was to be an arrangement, but she knew nothing of the financial situation that had propelled it into existence and nor should she find out. She could deal with an arranged marriage... Several of her friends had children who had been diplomatically set up with suitable partners. It would be tactful not to go into more details.

Alexa’s mute silence hadn’t translated into the meek subservience he had been expecting.

And looks-wise...

He tilted his head and noted the mutinous, challenging stare she returned.

‘And I didn’t think that I would be sitting here gazing at my devoted and adoring husband-to-be!’ Alexa retorted, because there was no reason for her to pretend that this was anything but a fiasco.

Besides, the man was so good-looking that he might just be arrogant enough to think that she actually wanted to be in this position.

She felt she should rid him of any such assumption from the start.

‘So I’m assuming...’ he rose fluidly from the chair to refill her glass with more champagne before topping his up with more of the whisky he had been drinking ‘...that we’re both singing from the same song sheet?’

‘What did you expect?’ Alexa threw at him, mouth downturned.

‘I could either answer that question truthfully or else ignore it altogether. Which would you rather?’

Alexa shrugged and tore her eyes away from his long, muscular frame. ‘We might just as well lay our cards on the table,’ she said.

‘In which case,’ Theo drawled, ‘I should tell you I had reached the conclusion that you might be a little desperate...considering Carlo is prepared to throw you in as part of his financial negotiations with my father...’

Slow, furious colour crawled into her cheeks.

‘You are the most arrogant man I think I have ever met in my entire life!’ Alexa said through gritted teeth.

She gauged the level of satisfaction she would get from flinging her glass at him, but decided that the only way to handle this disaster would be not to let him get to her.

She wasn’t going to lose her cool. She never lost her cool. It was what made her so good at what she did. She worked in the offices of a group of pro bono lawyers and daily dealt with people in need of practical and emotional help. Three evenings a week she volunteered at a women’s shelter. She was calm personified!

‘Since we’re about to be joined in happily married bliss, I suggest you take that on board and don’t think of implementing any changes.’

Theo was perversely enjoying himself, and he put that down to the sort of man he was. The sort who could deal with whatever was thrown at him, however unexpected.

‘And in return,’ he continued, in the same lazy dark drawl that made her toes curl, ‘I won’t try and turn you into someone charming and well behaved...’

Alexa glared and bit down hard on the riposte stinging her lips. She had no idea how she was going to survive twelve hours with this man, never mind twelve months.

‘I’ve spoken to my father,’ she gritted, ‘and he has agreed that we only have to carry out this crazy charade for twelve months. After that we can part company and you can return to your life of— You can return to your life and I can get back to mine.’

Theo wondered what she had been about to say but let it go. He, in actual fact, had secured a far better deal—because his twelve months also included a substantial acquisition of Caldini company shares and a seat on the board. It would tie in very nicely with his current diversion into telecommunications.

After the initial shock of the catastrophe that had been presented to him, he had very quickly reached the perfectly correct conclusion that marrying his daughter off was only one benefit for Carlo Caldini in helping his father.

The other was glaringly obvious.

Carlo Caldini ran a juggernaut of a family business but there was no male family member to whom he could leave his legacy—and, like many traditional Italians, he wanted his business to remain in the family. By marrying his daughter to Theo he netted one of the most wildly respected and formidable businessmen on the globe.

And for Theo, Alexa Caldini came with a considerable dowry.

‘So no doubt we should be discussing the mechanics,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that to the outside world we must be a loved-up pair about to embark on the greatest adventure of our lives. I will not have a whiff of scandal surrounding this, because under no circumstances is my father to be subjected to any manner of rumour about a convenient match concocted to save his company.’ His green eyes had cooled. ‘Are we one hundred per cent clear on this?’

‘Or else what?’

‘That’s a road I would seriously advise you not to go down.’

His voice was icy cold, with deadly intent, and Alexa shivered. Theo De Angelis had not reached the dizzy heights by being kind and avuncular. He’d probably never helped a little old lady cross a road in his entire life. She wondered how he would react to her world when they were man and wife...

‘When we’re in public,’ he purred silkily, ‘you will withdraw your claws. You can keep them for when we’re alone together.’

‘You might find that you don’t like being scratched.’ Alexa tilted her chin mutinously and he smiled—a slow, curling smile that did all sorts of weird and unexpected things to her body.

‘And you might discover that I’m very good when it comes to subduing wild cats.’

Suddenly confused, and feeling horribly out of her depth, Alexa blinked and gulped down the remainder of her champagne.

She might talk the talk, but how good would she be at walking the walk?

She had virtually no experience when it came to the opposite sex. She had been sent off to England to an all girls’ boarding school and from there to university, where she had buried herself in books, determined to get her law degree.

Of course there had been a couple of boyfriends, but neither had excited her and she had always been determined to hold out for the Right One—never to sell herself short. They had both cleared off as soon as they’d realised that she wasn’t going to hop into bed with them.

Now, as her bright blue eyes tangled with his cool, unreadable green ones, she knew that this was a predator, born to lead and accustomed to obedience.

Obedience she would give him—but only within the parameters that suited them both. If he didn’t want anyone getting wind of the real reason for their union she, in turn, did not want to embarrass her parents, whom she dearly loved.

He wanted her to put up a public front and she would—but the second they closed the door behind them there would be no more game-playing.

And suddenly a thought rippled through her that made her breathing quicken.

When the front door closed...what happened next?

It was something that she would have to broach, and she licked her lips nervously because the mere thought of this big, domineering man touching her sent her whole nervous system into instant meltdown.

He surely wouldn’t expect them to sleep together! Not when this was a farce—a marriage of convenience...a union in which there would be no love lost!

Her breathing steadied.

Panic over.

He might be arrogant and ruthless, but he wasn’t an idiot—and besides, she knew the sort of women he dated because she had seen pictures in some of the trashy magazines she had flicked through while she was getting her hair done.

Tall, blonde women who wore the minimum of clothing and whose full-time occupation appeared to be personal grooming.

‘You said that we need to discuss the mechanics of this...this arrangement...?’

‘Shall we do that over dinner—?’

‘Why? We might as well hash it out now.’

He stood up, blatantly ignoring her interruption. ‘I wouldn’t like to kick off our joyous life together on the wrong note,’ he drawled, strolling towards the door, which her parents had tactfully shut behind him on their way out.

‘What do you mean?’ Alexa followed him, disgruntled.

‘I mean your mother has had a doubtless delicious meal prepared for us. What kind of guest would I be if I disregarded her invitation?’

‘The kind that’s marrying me thanks to parental pressure?’ Alexa muttered sourly.

He shot her a brief look of appreciation.

‘Besides,’ she continued, skin tingling from that momentary look, ‘you don’t strike me as the sort of man who gives a hoot what other people think of him.’

She swept past him, breathing in his clean, woody scent and determinedly ignoring its impact on her senses.

‘I find that I’m willing to make an exception for my in-laws-to-be...’

‘Why are you taking this so calmly?’

It was the first thing Alexa said as they sat down at the table in the informal dining room. The blue room was still big enough to fit a ten-seater table, but places had been set for them opposite each another at one end. As always, it was a full arrangement, with dinner plates, side plates and separate silver cutlery for every course to be served—in this case salad, soup, main course and dessert.

Alexa could not have felt less hungry, and she looked with uninterest as salads were brought in and placed in front of them.

He, she noted, had no problem with his appetite.

‘How else do you imagine I should react?’ Theo looked at her, and across the width of the table she felt his overwhelming presence all the more acutely.

There was something intimate about eating together, and she could barely concentrate on her salad as the flutter of nerves threatened to overpower her common sense.

She put that down to her healthy dislike of the man.

‘Do you imagine that this is a situation I enjoy being in?’ he enquired coolly. ‘My father dropped this bombshell and I find I’ve had next to no option but to take the hit.’

‘I never thought I’d end up in a marriage with someone who would walk up the aisle only thanks to having to take a hit from a bombshell he couldn’t dodge,’ Alexa said bitterly—and that was the stark truth.

She had never followed the pattern of her friends, who had believed in sleeping around. She had never assumed that marriage was something to be taken lightly because it could be unpicked without too much difficulty if the going got rough. Her own parents had had a long and extremely happy marriage. Her mother, Irish by heritage, had been a gap-year student when she had met Carlo, and theirs had been a case of love at first sight. Which made it doubly upsetting that her father had seen fit to put her in this position. He had taken advantage of a situation and she was going to have to pay the price.

‘I don’t think that way of thinking will pay dividends in this particular situation...’ Theo pushed his salad plate to one side and sprawled back in the chair to look at her coolly. ‘We’ve both been put in an unfortunate position and now we have to deal with it.’

‘And you’re not angry...?’

‘Like I said, there’s no point in wasting energy on emotions that won’t get either of us anywhere. We’re going to present the perfect picture of a couple in love. Naturally there will have to be an engagement and a public announcement. Doubtless there will be cameras. You will smile and gaze adoringly up at me.’

‘And what will you be doing while I’m smiling and gazing adoringly?’

‘Controlling the situation.’

‘And this so-called engagement is supposed to last...how long?’

‘It’ll be brief,’ Theo asserted with the sweeping assurance of someone who had given the details a great deal of thought. ‘We can’t wait to tie the knot.’

‘And how is this supposed to make any kind of sense?’ Alexa demanded. She lapsed into silence as their salad plates were removed, to be replaced with soup. ‘Have you suddenly had a transformation and gone from being a womaniser to a one-woman man who’s desperate to get married?’

‘And that,’ Theo said in a hard voice, ‘is just the sort of approach I am warning you to avoid.’ Then he smiled—a slow, lazy smile that made the breath hitch in her throat. ‘I never imagined that you were a spitting cat...’ he mused. ‘Do you think that’s the reason your parents think you’ll end up on the shelf...?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘I CAN’T BELIEVE you just said that.’

Never had a meal seemed so interminably long. Interrupted by the arrival of their main course—a fish casserole—Alexa could only glare at him with simmering resentment. No one had ever riled her to this extent. His air of superior cool got on her nerves and made her rantings seem childish and petty.

‘You have no right to say stuff like that! You don’t know me!’

Theo dug into his food. She might not be his type, but there was a certain arresting quality to her face. Anger suited her, and he was startled at this reaction—because temper tantrums were things he had always actively discouraged.

Her dig about his womanising had annoyed him, and as far as he was concerned what was good for the goose was likewise good for the gander. If she wanted to throw accusations at him, then her shoulders should be broad enough to take it when he threw a few home truths back at her in return.

Not his style, admittedly, but then again since when had he ever been placed in a situation like this? On every single level she was just the sort of woman he would never naturally be drawn to. Physically, she was nothing like the tall, leggy supermodels he dated and, appearances aside, he liked his women to be obliging and accommodating. His work life was intense enough without having to do battle with a woman.

‘Aren’t you going to eat?’ he asked. ‘It’s excellent. Maybe I’ll get the name of your mother’s chef... Do you think she would object if I poached him?’

‘Elena isn’t a chef,’ Alexa muttered. ‘She’s the housekeeper we’ve had for centuries. And, yes, I think my mother would object if you decided to poach her. For your information, I have never considered myself as on the shelf. I’m not one of those women who thinks that the be-all and end-all of life is to get married as fast as you can and start having children.’

‘I’m guessing that both your parents do.’

Alexa pushed her plate to one side. ‘There’s no point discussing this. What my parents think or don’t think... How long before we get married?’

She was forcibly struck by the surreal situation she was now wading through—and by the fact that her contented life had been turned upside down in the space of a few days.

So she hadn’t been leading the most thrilling of lives... But it had taken her ages to get used to being back in Italy after first boarding school and then university abroad, followed by a stint in London, where she had worked for a small law company before her mother’s illness had called her back home.

She had spent the past year and a half easing herself into a life that felt foreign. Was it any wonder that excitement and thrills weren’t high on her agenda? Once she found her feet, she was sure that the slightly zoned out feeling she lived with much of the time would disappear.

She hadn’t banked on excitement landing on her doorstep in the form of a forced marriage.

‘Max—two months. And, to return to your question about the plausibility of my settling down at the speed of light... We both need to agree that it’s a case of love getting the better of me.’ He shrugged elegantly and stood up, tossing his serviette onto the table and prowling through the room as he thought.

Alexa followed him with her eyes. His movements were economical and graceful. He was wearing black jeans, a white linen shirt which was cuffed to the elbows and loafers, and he exuded elegance. He certainly hadn’t dressed for the occasion, but he still managed to look every inch the powerful tycoon that he was. He was obviously one of those people who could pull off elegance wearing anything... If he swapped clothes with a tramp he would still manage to look cool and sexy.

‘I broke up with my last girlfriend over three months ago—during which time I’ve been out of the public eye...’

‘You’re telling me that the press usually follow everything you do?’

Theo paused, leaned against the window ledge, then looked at her and kept looking at her as the dishes were cleared away. He signalled in a barely discernible gesture that they should be left alone for a while, and the door was duly shut as the last dish was removed. The oak table was left with just the wine decanter and a bottle of champagne.

‘I’m high-profile,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t ask for it, but it seems that some reporters have little else to do but take pictures of the rich and famous. It’s just a fact of life, and I’ve become accustomed to dealing with it.’

‘I would absolutely hate that.’

‘It’s something to which you might find you have to become accustomed—’

‘On top of everything else,’ Alexa muttered.

Her eyes flickered towards him and she found that she had to tear them away, because he was just so unfairly compelling to look at.

Theo chose to ignore her interruption. He had anticipated someone plain, docile and quite possibly grateful to be rescued from the prospect of spinsterhood. A traditional Italian woman who would welcome the abundance of riches suddenly deposited in her lap—because he knew without a trace of vanity that he was a good catch.

It would have been hard to locate someone less grateful than the girl now glowering at him, and he banked down a sudden flare of irritation.

‘At any rate,’ he pressed on, ‘no one will raise eyebrows about the timeline, and the fact that at least on paper this would appear to be the perfect match will certainly help things along. We both come from prominent Italian families... I have found the woman of my dreams, someone close to home, and have decided to steer my life in a different direction... Both families are overjoyed by the match...’

‘Even though our fathers haven’t been on speaking terms for years?’

‘All the more touching. Everyone likes a fairy-tale ending.’

‘You’re so cynical, aren’t you?’

‘Realistic and practical.’

‘And how are we supposed to have met? We don’t even live in the same country.’

‘I don’t think it will require great feats of the imagination to come up with something.’

Was she going out of her way to get on his nerves? he wondered. Did she honestly think that his life hadn’t also undergone a seismic change? Less than two weeks ago he had been a free man—free to go where he pleased, to have whatever woman he wanted. No one was waiting in the wings, expecting him to put in an appearance. That freedom had disappeared in a puff of smoke, but was he whining and complaining? No. He was solution-orientated and, like it or not, plans had to be made so that this pretence could be seamlessly accepted as nothing short of the absolute truth.

‘Let’s have your thoughts on this,’ he said.

An edge of irritation had crept into his voice and, hearing it, Alexa scowled, once again reduced to feeling petty.

‘I suppose we could have met here,’ she said, a little ungraciously.

‘I occasionally do come to Italy to see my father. . It’s a realistic enough scenario. You happened to be somewhere... Suddenly my life shifted on its axis... If a reporter asks you for details you can always tell him no comment and then gaze adoringly at me. Probably safer than getting tangled up in a lie.’

He looked at her glum face, then down to her baggy, unappealing outfit. No doubt she had pointedly dressed down for a confrontation she didn’t want, but it was something that would have to be discussed whether she liked it or not. He suspected not, but treading delicately round the issue wasn’t going to do.

‘Is that how you normally dress?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Jeans...baggy tops... And what are you wearing on your feet...?’

Alexa looked at him indignantly and stuck her foot out. ‘Trainers.’

‘Running shoes? To my mind, they’re for running. Are you running anywhere? Have you just come from the gym?’

‘What are you getting at?’ Her voice had risen a notch. His levels of arrogance were in the process of escalating.

‘Credibility,’ Theo said succinctly. ‘We may make the ideal match, and when our engagement hits the news much will be made of our backgrounds, but even the least observant reporter might question the fact that I’ve fallen head over heels in love with someone who doesn’t appear to give a damn how she looks...’

Alexa’s mouth dropped open. She contemplated throwing something at him.

‘That is the most insulting thing that has ever been said to me in my entire life!’

‘It’s not meant to be insulting,’ Theo informed her drily. ‘I’m looking at this situation from all angles and simply bringing one of those angles to your attention. The women I’ve dated in the past—’

‘There’s no need to go into that.’ Alexa was mortified, and outraged that he should be tactless enough to criticise her choice of clothing. ‘I know exactly what sort of women you’ve dated in the past.’

‘How so?’

‘I’ve seen the occasional picture in a trashy mag.’ She liked the way the words trashy mag rolled off her tongue.

‘You read “trashy mags”? You surprise me. I thought I might be getting a highbrow intellectual for a wife. I’m disappointed.’

There was a thread of amusement in his voice which she decided to ignore, because it seemed to point to a side of his personality that wasn’t part of the package she had conjured up.

‘They’re the only things to read at the hairdresser,’ Alexa told him airily. ‘Great big stacks of silly magazines, full of useless gossip. I saw a picture of you in one of them a couple of months ago. A tall, blonde woman was clinging to you as though she might fall flat on her face unless you kept her propped up. Maybe she’d had too much to drink...’ Alexa mused, enjoying herself for the first time that evening. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. But I suppose those society dos usually involve a lot of alcohol. I’ve been asked to several over the years,’ she inserted, truthfully enough, because as the daughter of a prominent Italian family she had occasionally been asked to some event or other in aid of a good cause, ‘but I try and avoid them.’

‘How virtuous.’

‘So, yes, I know that you date tall model-types. A bit like your brother. He also pops up in those kinds of magazines, with some drunken supermodel hanging on to him for dear life...’

Theo thought of Daniel and for a second tried to imagine what the mouthy little brunette facing him would have thought of his brother. His brother was the essence of a playboy—which was why he had laughed uproariously when Theo had told him about the situation he was stuck in.

It would have been Daniel’s ultimate nightmare, and he had been overjoyed at the prospect of being able to remain free, single and unattached, without having to worry that their father might start making noises about him settling down. One son who had settled down would be plenty good enough.

‘I like the way you think the supermodel was drunk...’ Theo murmured, temporarily distracted by her digression and thinking that, yes, there was a very high chance that whoever she had seen clinging to him had had too much to drink. ‘Maybe she was clinging to me because she liked the sensation of being pressed up against me... A lot of women do...’

Alexa blinked and blushed. ‘Well...’ the conversation had meandered, and she had only herself to blame ‘...in case you hadn’t noticed I’m not six-foot-two and blonde, so you can’t turn me into one of your supermodels...’

‘You know exactly what I was talking about, Alexa...’

‘Do I?’ The way he said her name sent little shivers through her, and her eyes glazed over as she tried to fight off the unusual sensation.

‘Show up next to me in a pair of jeans, some trainers and a baggy sweatshirt and people are going to scratch their heads in bewilderment. And show up next to me you’re going to have to—because we’re going to spend the next couple of months convincing whoever needs convincing that we’re a loved-up couple.’

‘I have a job...’ Alexa stared at him in horror.

‘I’m not asking you to shadow me twenty-four hours of the day,’ Theo clarified. ‘In fact I won’t even be in Italy for significant periods of time. My work is primarily in London. I will, however, try and arrange my business dealings so that I can be here more often than I normally would. I don’t see that I have much choice in the matter. At any rate, when I’m in London you’re going to have to drop whatever you’re doing and put in an appearance. Two people who are supposed to be madly in love should be madly in love enough that they actually want to spend time in the same country together.’

‘Are you telling me that I will have to give up my job?’

Theo looked at her pensively. ‘You work in a law office. Am I right?’

‘How did you know?’

‘Your parents told me before you came down,’ Theo said wryly. ‘They thought a little background information about you would be a good idea.’

‘What else did they say?’

‘That you don’t seem particularly enthralled by it...’

Alexa was dismayed. She liked what she did well enough, but her liking it only ‘well enough’ would not have gone unnoticed by her parents. She was their only child, and they could tune in to her moods in ways that were scary.

Was that why they had jumped to the conclusion that she was somehow unhappy with her life?

Like a detective in possession of clue number one, Alexa could begin to see why they might have also come to the conclusion that if she wasn’t happy in her job, she wasn’t happy in her life—and her mother, traditional as she was, would have instantly decided that it was because there was no guy in the picture. She was now twenty-six years old—at an age when so many Italian girls she had grown up with were married, some with kids. Her mother wouldn’t have understood that she was just missing the independence she had had in another country.

‘I haven’t been there very long.’

‘A year and a half is long enough to decide whether you like a job or not. My point being that it won’t be any great sacrifice for you to be flexible with it while we indulge in our passionate love affair. And when we do tie the knot it won’t be any great sacrifice either for you to jack it in altogether and return to London with me. There’s no way I can live out here.’

Alexa’s head was spinning. It didn’t get worse than this. Not only had her life been overturned, but she felt as if she were on a rollercoaster ride and someone else had complete control of the on/off switch.

‘I don’t just work at a law firm,’ she said tightly, ‘I also volunteer three evenings a week at a local women’s shelter, and that’s something that I do happen to like—very much!’

That came as a surprise to Theo. Her parents hadn’t mentioned it, and he wondered whether they’d thought it was something he might find a little embarrassing.

He didn’t.

In fact he was intrigued. There was no need for her to do anything but enjoy living in the lap of luxury. There was certainly no need for her to have a job, but he could understand her wanting that well enough. However, helping out at a women’s shelter was way beyond the call of duty, and he felt a twinge of curiosity about this woman who was going to become his wife.

Since curiosity and women didn’t tend to go hand in hand for him, he allowed himself a few seconds to enjoy the novel sensation.

‘Doing what?’ he asked with genuine interest.

Alexa hesitated. Determined that total detachment was the only way to deal with a situation she didn’t like, convinced anyhow that someone like Theo De Angelis was just the sort of man she could only ever view as an adversary, she was wary of this brief lull in warfare.

He was leaning forward, frowning slightly, his head inclined to one side, waiting for her to reply.

And just for a split second she glimpsed the ferocity of his charm—the charm that drew women like magnets and ensured that his face was always plastered somewhere inside one of those trashy magazines she had told him about.

For a split second it was as if she were the only woman in the universe who interested him. That was how it felt. And even though she knew that it was an illusion, and it didn’t change her fundamental opinion of him, she was still...

Sucked in...

‘I... You probably don’t get this...’ she tried for defensive and belligerent but achieved breathless ‘...but I am actually interested in putting back into the community...’

‘I’d like to argue that one with you, but go on...’

‘I did Law at university, and my experience has been working with pro bono legal teams. I like the thought of being able to help people who need legal aid but haven’t got the money to hire some fancy, expensive lawyer. I like thinking that the little guy can get as much from the system as someone with money.’ Her voice picked up with enthusiasm. ‘One thing led to another, and I found out about a women’s shelter that needed volunteers. I thought it would be just the sort of thing I might like—and I do. I help out there on every level...from mucking in with the general work to giving some of the women there legal advice...’

She stopped abruptly, a little embarrassed at the way she had opened up, even though she was hardly divulging state secrets.

‘Anyway,’ she said, her guard back up and firmly in place, ‘there’s no need to dress up for my job or for my volunteer work—not that I feel comfortable dressing up anyway. You asked me if jeans and baggy jumpers and trainers are the clothes I like wearing and the answer is yes.’

Theo didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was still chewing over the picture she had painted of herself and marvelling that he could have been so far off target in his assumptions about this person who had been dumped on him.

Then he shook aside the moment of introspection.

Back to the matter in hand.

‘That’s as may be,’ he said, in a voice that allowed no wriggle room, ‘but you’ll need a new wardrobe.’

Alexa was happy to fume once again, even though she could see the sense of what he was saying. Who was going to be convinced that he’d fallen in love with a girl who avoided parties and society affairs and whose wardrobe consisted of varying shades of denim? It just demonstrated how far apart they were in everything aside from their backgrounds, and as far as she was concerned similar backgrounds would never be good enough to bridge the gaps.

Thank goodness there was a time limit on this charade!

‘And what sort of clothes would you suggest?’ she asked politely. ‘Do I have a say in what I wear as the radiant bride-to-be, or are you going to take over that aspect of things as well?’

‘Would you like me to? I’ve never been shopping with a woman in my life before, but I’m more than happy to test-drive the experience with you...’

‘I’ll choose my own clothes,’ Alexa said hurriedly as her head was filled with images of him sitting on a chair in a boutique and looking at her as she paraded different outfits in front of him. Short, over-endowed on the breast front, and lacking in the legs-up-to-her-armpits arena, she could just imagine the comparisons he would make and inwardly cringed.

‘And leaving Italy...?’

He let that very important question drop and wondered what ripples it might cause. She was extremely close to her parents. He knew that. Just as he knew that she had returned from working in London post-haste the moment she’d felt she needed to be by her mother’s side.

Alexa shrugged. It wasn’t a depressing thought. In fact it might be just about the brightest thing on an otherwise nightmarish horizon.

Of course it would entail living with the man now scrutinising her...

Which brought that awkward subject she had shoved aside back to the surface.

What, exactly, would their married life entail? It would be a silly academic question, of course. She wasn’t his type any more than he was hers. But she would have to clarify things—draw a line in the sand, so to speak.

‘I would want to carry on working wherever I happened to be,’ she told him, and he nodded.

‘Do you imagine that I’m the sort of dinosaur who would stop you? At any rate...’ He shrugged and glanced at his watch, to find that they had been talking for a lot longer than he had imagined. It wouldn’t be long before her parents would return. ‘At any rate...’ he picked up the thread of what he had been saying ‘...within the constraints of our so-called marriage you would be free to do whatever you wanted to do.’

Alexa nodded, and wondered what sort of woman he would have liked to marry, and what his expectations might have been. Would he have wanted a little stay-at-home wife? She couldn’t picture him as a guy who could ever be domesticated. There was something essentially untamed about him. She’d been pushed into this, but so had he. He must have had thoughts about marriage and now he was stuck with her—at least temporarily. His life had been equally disrupted and yet you wouldn’t have guessed.

She had noted the way he had looked at his watch. So they might be talking business, but it still felt like an insult to be in a man’s company and to find him clock-watching because he wanted to get away.

‘Fine,’ she said crisply. ‘In that case I would look for work as soon as I moved to London. Which...er...brings me to... I feel I ought to get a few things straight...’

‘Spit it out.’

‘This isn’t going to be a normal marriage.’

‘That’s somewhat stating the obvious.’

‘We probably won’t see much of one another, which suits me just fine, and it’ll just be for a few months anyway, but during that time I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring women to the house.’

Theo looked at her incredulously. ‘“Bring women to the house...”?’

‘I know...’ Alexa felt addled by the way those cool green eyes were resting on her face, making her feel as though she had made one big, enormous gaffe. Which she hadn’t. She was just getting things straight. ‘I know that behind closed doors...you know...we will be able to drop the act... But I would rather I didn’t have to bump into any of your supermodels on the staircase...’

‘You think I’m going to bring women back to the house I will be sharing with you? Put them in the room next door for easy access?’

‘You’re going to be with me for a year. I expect you will have...needs...so to speak...’ Her cheeks were flaming red and she licked her lips nervously. ‘And of course,’ she ploughed on into thick silence, ‘our marriage will be for show only. I mean...there will be no question of us...sharing a bedroom...or anything. I just want to make that clear.’ She gave a high laugh. ‘Just stating the obvious! So, when it comes to...er...’ Her voice petered out and she looked at him in helpless frustration.

‘To...er...?’ he encouraged.

‘You know what I’m saying!’

‘You’re giving me permission to have sex with any woman I want, just so long as I don’t bring them into the house I will be sharing with you?’

‘Yes!’

‘That’s very considerate and generous of you, but I’m not the sort of man who believes in fooling around outside marriage.’

‘But it won’t be a real marriage...’

‘Are you magnanimously giving me permission because you want me to respond in kind?’

‘I—I don’t know what you mean,’ Alexa stammered.

His eyes were chips of ice. ‘Then shall I spell it out for you? Are you telling me that I can have sex with any woman I want because you want me to tell you that you can do likewise with any man?’

Alexa’s mouth dropped open.

‘You can drop the innocent act,’ Theo said drily. ‘I may be older than you, but I don’t hark back to the Dark Ages. You’re in your mid-twenties, and I’m guessing that you have a boyfriend stashed away somewhere. Your parents didn’t mention anyone on the scene, in which case he probably isn’t socially acceptable...’

‘Not socially acceptable?’ was all Alexa could parrot in bewilderment.

Of course—he was judging her by his standards. A bolt of white-hot fury lanced through her. She clamped her lips tightly shut and waited to hear where he would go next with his crazy assumptions.

‘If he was the sort of guy you wanted to show off to your parents you would have trotted him back home for a sit-down meal and a meet-and-greet evening by now...’

‘Because that’s what you’ve done with your girlfriends in the past?’

‘I’ve always discouraged that.’ Theo waved aside her interruption. ‘But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.’

‘So he’s “socially unacceptable...”?’ She stifled a bubble of hysterical laughter.

If only he knew! But to a man like Theo De Angelis the thought of being a twenty-six-year-old virgin would have been unthinkable. It wouldn’t even have crossed his radar! It would never have occurred to him that there were some people on the planet who actually weren’t interested in jumping into bed for the fun of it—people who were willing to hold out for the real thing...people who believed in love and were willing to wait till they found it before they had sex. People who wanted to share the precious gift of their body with the person they truly loved.

‘He’s not married...?’ he mused, for the first time wondering what her social life was like.

His eyes skimmed over her flushed face and, yes...there was definitely something curiously appealing about her—something that would definitely be considered attractive by any number of men.

What would she look like with her clothes off?

Just like that his imagination fired up. Her clothes revealed nothing, but the jut of her breasts suggested that she had more than a generous handful. Big breasts, with big nipples.

He frowned and shifted as his libido, dormant since he had dispatched his last girlfriend, sprang into enthusiastic life. His thick, hard erection pushed against his zipper and he shifted again, annoyed at the way his body was reacting without his permission.

Hell... He had no intention of complicating an already complicated situation by getting curious about a woman who wasn’t his type.

But his body was refusing to play ball and he focused on her face, driving inappropriate thoughts from his head.

‘What a relief!’ Alexa said with thick sarcasm. ‘It’s nice to know that you think I have some morals.’

Theo’s eyes narrowed, because the suggestion was there that what she had he obviously lacked in abundance.

What woman had ever insinuated anything like that to him in his life before? It was outrageous. She knew just how to antagonise him, whether deliberately or not, and it took willpower not to waste his energies rising to the bait.

He wondered whether he had touched upon a sensitive issue. Had he hit a home run without even trying? Was there some man waiting in the wings? No matter. He would have to be dispatched—and that was certainly something he wasn’t going to waste time apologising about.

‘I suppose he’s one of your do-gooder pals?’ Theo asserted flatly. ‘Maybe someone working with you at whatever shelter you work at. Am I right? I don’t suppose you would want to introduce someone like that to your parents. You might enjoy putting the world to rights, but cut to the chase and you’re the only child of one of the most important families in the country. You might be allowed freedom of movement to pursue whatever career you want, but when it comes to settling down don’t tell me that your parents wouldn’t be alarmed if you chose someone who couldn’t make ends meet...’

Alexa didn’t know whether to be insulted or amused by his freewheeling assumptions. She certainly wasn’t going to set him straight—because why should she? She stoutly reminded herself that whilst it was in her nature to be utterly honest this was a novel situation—there was no need for her to account for herself.

‘My parents aren’t that small-minded,’ she told him with saccharine politeness. ‘They wouldn’t care if I brought home someone who couldn’t make ends meet.’

‘I beg to differ,’ Theo said, in just the kind of tone of voice that set her teeth on edge. ‘Why do you think your father is so keen for me to marry you?’

‘Apparently because he wants to get me down from the shelf before I take up permanent residence there.’ Her cheeks were burning and she was clutching the sides of her chair, leaning forward, every muscle in her body rigid with angry tension.

‘He sees me as his natural successor,’ Theo informed her smoothly. ‘He sees me as the perfect match for you—someone who can run his empire. It’s what he wants for you...and of course for himself...’

Alexa whitened. It all made sense now, and she suddenly felt like a pawn caught up in a game that was much bigger than her. Their feuding fathers had sealed a bond and all the players had won except her. Theo’s father would have his family name kept intact and his company rescued from the threat of public disgrace. Her mother would have her daughter married and, after her stroke, would have what she had wanted for the past few years. She wouldn’t see it as an act of selfishness. Arranged marriages were perfectly acceptable in certain social circles. Her father would likewise see his daughter married off, and in return... Yes, he would have the perfect son-in-law.

And Theo would have...

He didn’t have to spell it out for her, because it was obvious now that she was putting two and two together. Theo would wangle part-ownership of her father’s company. Maybe not all of it, but his portfolio would increase substantially—not that he needed it.

And she, Alexa, would get one year of gnashing her teeth and trying not to commit homicide.

Right now she could dig her heels in and refuse to go along with what everyone else wanted. But she knew that she wasn’t going to do that. She wouldn’t stress her mother and risk another health problem which might prove far more serious than the last.

Theo could see the play of emotions on her face as comprehension dawned and he squashed the sickening suspicion that he was responsible for that. She was an adult and she had made her choice. True, she hadn’t asked to be put in this unenviable position, but neither had he. Tough situations always made a person stronger, more resilient.

Matter sorted, he said bluntly, ‘I know this situation isn’t ideal, but if you have a boyfriend he’s going to have to go into hiding while we’re together. I have no intention of sleeping around behind your back. The press follow me like hyenas and I don’t plan on giving them any carcasses to chew on—and you’re going to do the same.’

He heard a rustle of activity and the distant sound of voices marking the return of her parents.

‘There’s an event tomorrow evening.’ He stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Formal. I’ve been invited and you’ll be my...guest. It will be our first public appearance together and the perfect opportunity to get the gossip mill at work...’

Feeling as though she had been through several wars and only managed to survive by the skin of her teeth, Alexa stood up as well.

‘And of course I’m to dress the part...’ she muttered, feeling even more powerless standing in front of him, because he was just so...big...

‘I intend to stay in the country for at least the next fortnight. There will be several high-profile functions.’

‘I’ll make sure my wardrobe is overflowing with stuff I wouldn’t normally wear in a million years!’ she snapped.

Theo smiled slowly. ‘I look forward to seeing them... I’ll pick you up tomorrow evening at seven. Get ready to be the centre of attention...’

CHAPTER THREE

‘DARLING, YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL...’

Alexa tried hard not to grimace. She had spent a restless night. Her entire mind had seemed to be filled with images of Theo, leaving no room for anything else.

First thing in the morning she had telephoned her boss at work to advise him that she would have to take a temporary leave of absence. She hated leaving him in the lurch, but he would find out soon enough the reasons for her abrupt departure. When pressed, she had only muttered that it was of a personal nature.

Then she had spent the day, at her mother’s excited instigation, at various beauty parlours and clothes shops.

She had had her nails done, her face done... She had gone to the hairdressers, where they had trimmed her hair, suffused it with highlights and then insisted she look and admire what they had created... She had traipsed from one shop to another and allowed herself to be guided by personal shoppers...

Alexa knew that it was just the sort of day most girls of her background would have taken for granted. But by the end of the afternoon, laden with bags which had quickly been taken to her room, each elaborate dress carefully hung in her wardrobe while her precious casual clothes had got second billing, she had felt utterly spent.

Now, looking at her mother’s thin, beaming face, she reminded herself why she had embarked on this crazy scheme. Her mother was positively radiant.

She hadn’t accompanied her shopping, but had greeted the sight of each purchase with gratifying squeals of delight. Alexa was forced to concede that at long last Cora Caldini had managed to get the doll she had wanted rather than the tomboy she had been stuck with.

‘I look...’ Alexa stole a glance at her reflection and for a few startling seconds, now that she was seeing the complete and finished product, was lost for words ‘...different...’ she eventually managed to croak.

Neither the mirrors she had cursorily glanced in at the various shops nor the face she had politely and very briefly scanned at the hairdressers seemed to have done justice to the person now reflected back at her.

Different was an understatement, and she was honest enough to acknowledge that.

Her curves were still all there, but for some reason the dress took them, held them, shaped them in some way so that she was...sexy...

‘I know,’ her mother said with immense satisfaction. ‘Fabulous! And the colour suits you perfectly.’

That colour was a shimmering pale duck-egg-blue that brought out the brightness of her eyes. Perfectly fitted to slightly below the waist, clinging to her torso like a second skin, the dress flared softly to the ground. The neckline was scooped, but not outrageously so, just affording a tantalising glimpse of the soft swell of her breasts, and the back was equally scooped. When she moved, it flowed in gossamer-fine layers of silk around her, so that every movement she made was as graceful as a dancer’s.

The highlights she had ignored at the hairdressers picked up rich copper threads in her hair that she had never noticed. Only a fraction of her hair had been trimmed so that, loose, it tumbled down her back and cascaded over her shoulders.

Her mother had brought in some of her jewellery, and the next half an hour was spent trying on several pieces.

Alexa discovered that she actually enjoyed that half an hour...

She was hardly aware of time passing until there was a knock on the door and she was told that Theo had arrived and was waiting for her by the stairs.

Alexa snapped out of her reverie and smiled at her mother. ‘This is the most excited I’ve seen you in ages. Do you think I should have been going around dressed like this for the past few years?’

‘You’ve never been one for dressing up...’ Her mother sighed, still smiling. ‘And I wouldn’t have changed that for the world. But now and again... Well, my darling, you can see for yourself how wonderful it is to just try something new once in a while. Theo is going to be stunned.’

Theo won’t notice what I wear unless I turn up in dungarees and trainers, Alexa wanted to retort as she slipped her feet into stilettoes that were precariously high but absolutely suited to the outfit.

‘You’re going to be engaged—and married. Such an exciting time... I know you’ve been nudged a little in that direction—but, darling, a mother knows best, and I just know that the two of you are going to be soulmates. When your father told me that Stefano had mentioned his son had seen you, wanted to meet you... Well, I was over the moon. And, having met him for myself... Well, he’s just perfect—and I can tell you feel the same...’

So that’s how this little charade is being played out, Alexa thought. Theo had supposedly wanted to set up a meeting with her. Her mother probably had visions of love at first sight, if not at first meeting.

Of course she didn’t know of his deal made with the devil. One year of self-sacrifice and in return shares in their sprawling family company. And, added to that, his father’s company would be saved from public ruin.

Love and respect for her mother stopped her from prolonging the conversation and hammering the truth home like a battering ram. But it was just so frustrating.

She grabbed a little sequinned bag from the dressing table and then followed her mother along the corridor towards the staircase. Pausing at the top, she looked down to see Theo and her father chatting. Theo’s back was to her, but the powerful force of his presence still struck her like a physical blow.

He was dressed as formally as she was. One hand was shoved into the pocket of black hand-tailored trousers, and she could see the pristine white of his shirt-cuff peeping out from beneath his immaculately fitted black jacket.

His body’s posture was loose...relaxed. He was a man looking forward to an evening out with the woman he would show off to the world as his wife-to-be.

No wonder her mother thought that the man was the next best thing to sliced bread. Theo had his act down pat. He was so socially adept at handling any situation that anyone looking in would have just seen a prospective son-in-law dedicated to charming his in-laws. Anyone looking in would have probably thought that he had asked her father for her hand in marriage and proposed on bended knee. Which just went to show...

She took a deep breath and began walking down the winding staircase.

Theo turned slowly. Carlo Caldini was proving to be both amusing and intelligent. In fact he reminded Theo of his own father. He could understand why they had been inseparable friends for such a long time. Without much time to spare there had seemed little point in having a drink, so they had remained at the bottom of the staircase, chatting.

It had come as no great surprise that Alexa had not been waiting for him when he arrived. As long as she wasn’t hiding out in the broom cupboard in the hope that he would leave without her, then that was all right. He was prepared to wait for as long as it took—whether they arrived on time or not was of little importance to him. In fact the later the better, to some extent, because not only would that limit the hours spent in tedious chatter but it would also ensure that the maximum number of people would witness their arrival, arm in arm.

In Rome, even more than in London, news of the happy couple and their impending nuptials would spread faster than the speed of light.

With his mind toying with the question of how best he could assimilate a wife into his lifestyle without having to alter his day-to-day routine very much, it took Theo a few seconds to focus on the woman gliding with effortless grace down the stairs.

So she’d taken him at his word. He hadn’t known what to expect—whether she would actually do what was necessary or else jump aboard her independence bandwagon and don some paint-spattered overalls and hiking boots for the social event to which he had been invited.

Where had that figure come from? She’d hidden it well... With the dress clinging lovingly to her, he could see that she had the perfect hourglass shape. Full breasts narrowed to a slender waist, and even in the floor-length gown he could see that her legs would be shapely. She was the absolute opposite of the stick insects he was accustomed to dating.

Their eyes met and she pursed her lips—just sufficiently to remind him that she was doing this under duress.

If either of her parents had noticed that little show of rebellion they were hiding it well under their broad smiles and proud gazes, but as soon as he had followed her into the chauffeur-driven limousine, Theo turned to her.

‘You’re going to have to do a bit better than that...’ he drawled, making sure that the privacy partition between the driver and the rear seat was firmly up.

She had pressed herself as far away from him as she could physically get without falling out of the car.

‘And the evening isn’t going to kick off on the right footing if you behave as though I’m carrying the plague,’ he went on, keeping his voice even and detached.

‘I’ll be fine once we get there,’ Alexa told him defiantly.

She had noticed that he hadn’t complimented her on her outfit. Whilst her father had been holding her at arm’s length and showering her with over-the-top compliments Theo had stood back, face impassive. Anyone in that situation would have felt hurt, so it wasn’t strange that she had.

Clearly when there was no pressing need to make an impression he wasn’t that bothered, so why did he expect her to cosy up against him now? Just in case the driver got suspicious?

‘I’m not even sure where we’re going,’ she said, because yet again his show of good manners had made her feel like a silly kid.

‘Art exhibition,’ Theo said succinctly. ‘Under normal circumstances I would have been in London, but as I happen to be here...’

‘An art exhibition...?’ She had gone to a couple of those ages ago, with her parents. The art had been incomprehensible and the crowd had been shallow and overdressed.

‘There will be no need to stay long,’ Theo said mildly. ‘Just long enough to create an impression. Although...’

‘Although what?’ Alexa tensed and looked at him.

In the blue-grey twilight his face was all angles and shadows. She felt a dangerous ripple of response snake through her body and she caught her breath and held it for a few panicked, confused seconds before slowly releasing it.

‘Although perhaps we might stay a bit longer than absolutely necessary. After all, it would a shame to waste a dress like that on a forty-minute appearance...’

Alexa was lost for words. He had paid her a compliment, in a backhanded sort of way, and his lazy velvety voice swirled around her like a mind-altering drug. He was leaning against the door, utterly relaxed, and his eyes were broodingly sexy as he watched her, obviously not caring that it was rude to stare.

Of course, she told herself feverishly, what he had meant was that it was a dress designed to grab the headlines, so why waste it? Why not stay as long as they could so that it had maximum effect? It hadn’t been a compliment directed at her personally.

At any rate, it didn’t matter one way or the other. This was a business arrangement. They were co-workers, so to speak.

‘I’ve never liked those sorts of things.’ Alexa rushed into nervous chatter. ‘I think that was the best thing about being away from Italy...not having to go to openings and art shows and film premieres... Not that I was ever forced to, you understand, but I think my parents enjoyed showing me off. The hardship of being the only child of a rich family!’

She was blabbering, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself because she knew that if she did she might have to analyse the rush of giddiness that had assailed her on the back of his stupid compliment. And then she would have to link it up with the weird way her body seemed to behave in his presence.

Did it all stem from her lack of experience with the opposite sex?

Blabbering on seemed an easier option than wrestling with those kinds of questions.

‘Most people would kill to endure that sort of hardship.’

Cheeks flaming, Alexa turned to look through the window before glancing back at him. The space between them was as big as it could possibly get on the back seat of a very big car, but it still felt tiny. If she reached out she would be able to touch him.

‘I get that,’ she said stiffly. ‘I wasn’t complaining. I was talking too much because...’

‘Because you’re nervous?’

‘Aren’t you?’

Theo shrugged. He liked the way her hair fell in waves around her. It was much longer than he had originally thought, and it wasn’t poker-straight, which seemed to be the only style women below the age of thirty-five wore their hair in the circles he mixed in. A year out from them might be a pleasant break in the monotony. She looked as though she had just climbed out of bed and run her fingers through its length and then left it to its own devices. She was dressed to kill and wearing war paint, but there was still something lacking in artifice about her. She would do those cameras proud.

‘Why would I be nervous?’

‘Because we’re pretending to be something we aren’t,’ Alexa said bluntly.

‘You never did tell me,’ he murmured, ‘whether you have a boyfriend or not.’

‘Because it’s none of your business.’

‘Of course it’s my business,’ Theo returned smoothly. Was it? Really? Probably not. But he was suddenly curious to find out. ‘Reporters will do anything to get background material so that they can flesh out a non-existent story, and you’d be surprised at the efforts they go to to rake up mud. If they uncover a lovelorn pro bono lawyer weeping in a corner somewhere they’ll have a field-day. I’m going to have to be prepped with a suitable story.’

‘Are you telling me that you’re as pure as driven snow when it comes to...to...women? That there are no skeletons in your cupboard that can be uncovered?’

‘My love-life is an open book!’

Theo grinned, and she was fascinated at how that open grin could be so engaging. She was as nervous as a kitten and he couldn’t have been cooler.

Did anything rattle the man?

‘We’re here.’

Alexa realised that the limo was slowing in front of an impressive white building, fronted with imposing stone columns and a bank of shallow stairs leading up to double doors, which were open. In front of them two uniformed men were checking invitations.

‘Boyfriend or no boyfriend?’ Theo pressed, circling her wrist with his hand, staying her before she could get out of the car.

‘No boyfriend! Okay?’

Theo shot her a smile of such satisfaction that she wanted to smack him. Instead she gritted her teeth and returned his look of satisfaction with one of simmering resentment, which just made him smile a little more.

‘No boyfriend. Good. The fewer complications, the better. And stop scowling. Our relationship is too fresh for us to be having arguments in the back seat of a limo. We’re still in the honeymoon phase... The way I leave the toothpaste uncovered and forget to put the toilet seat down hasn’t started getting on your nerves just yet... So let’s smile a lot and face the music...’

He laughed softly at her indignant, helpless expression and gently urged her out of the car as her door was opened for her.

It was a big deal. Cameras flashed at the throng of people clustered outside or making their way in. Even as the car had stopped Alexa had been able to recognise faces. A couple of high-profile politicians, celebrities clinging to other celebrities, as if terrified of moving out of their comfort zones, businessmen in suits, accompanied by wives dripping in diamonds...

Just the sort of crowd she preferred to avoid.

They stepped out of the car and every reporter with every camera seemed to turn, as one, in their direction.

This was the difference between being rich and being rich and newsworthy. The blinding flash of bulbs going off dazzled her, and the steadying arm of Theo, curving around her waist, felt like a solid rock of support in turbulent waters. She knew that she was actually leaning against him. Loathing the man, yet still finding his support strangely comforting.

There was an excited babble of voices and heads turned in their direction.

‘You look amazing.’

Theo leant to whisper huskily into her ear and she looked up at him, sensed the popping of cameras taking a picture of their whispered conversation.

‘So don’t be nervous. I’m right here.’

He felt her automatic protest and his hold on her tightened. He laughed softly under his breath.

‘Remember,’ he murmured, still pressing close to her, so that no one could overhear what was being said, ‘what I told you about retracting those claws in public... Don’t forget that we’re in love...at the honeymoon stage...you can’t get enough of me...’

Alexa had no idea how she managed to deal with the next hour and a half. She drank two glasses of champagne and ate some of the canapés that were passed around. Questions peppered her from various quarters, including from several people—friends of her parents—who wanted to know what was going on.

The gossip mill was in full swing, and they couldn’t have announced their togetherness in a more public manner.

Theo didn’t leave her side. His arm was around her at all times. She was conscious of that with every step she took.

‘Had enough?’

Theo tilted her chin up and their eyes met. Alexa found that she could do little else but stare. His eyes were truly amazing and she felt giddy, sucked in by their green depths. She saw those fabulous, mesmerising eyes flicker and then he was leaning towards her and his mouth was covering hers, grazing it, and then he was delicately teasing his tongue between her lips.

Never in her life had she felt anything like this before. It was as if a series of fireworks had exploded in her head. Every single thought vanished. Indeed, there was no one else in the room—no crowds of people chattering around her, no waiting staff weaving through with trays balanced on hands, no curious eyes boring a hole into her back.

There was just the two of them, and the feel of his tongue meshing with hers, eliciting a soft shudder of response.

Simultaneously the flash of a camera captured the moment, and she knew instantly that Theo had foreseen that.

Everything had been timed to perfection. He had held her with just the right amount of possessiveness, had been attentive to just the right extent, had led the charade, expecting her to follow in his lead—and she had.

They left the still-packed art exhibition and the babble of noise eventually subsided as they moved out into the open foyer outside the room where the main event was taking place, which was far less crowded.

‘Well done.’

Theo released her, and without his arm around her reality was re-established.

‘What choice did I have?’ Alexa asked stiffly as they made their way outside.

The chauffeur had already been summoned and was waiting for them, with the passenger door open and thankfully, no prying cameras to chart their sudden lack of affection.

She was taut with anger. Anger at herself, for having become swept up in that kiss—and not just the kiss. The whispered encouraging compliments...the way he had spent the evening touching her in some way or another...the way he had been the perfect newly loved-up boyfriend.

‘About as much as I had.’

The ferocity of his body’s response to that well-timed kiss, which would doubtless be in print somewhere by the following morning, had shocked him. He prided himself on being in control of the situation that had been foisted upon him, and he was annoyed with himself for the unrestrained surge in his libido. Again.

He propelled her into the waiting car and then slid the partition up so that once again their conversation could not be overheard by their driver.

‘Our engagement will be publicly announced in the next few days,’ he informed her matter-of-factly. ‘So our next bonding session will be at a jeweller’s.’

Every trace of affection had disappeared. His cool washed over her like freezing water. He had detached. There was the man who could show one face to the public, and then there was the man who could remove that mask and be someone completely different in private.

This was a lesson she should learn, Alexa thought feverishly. While her feelings were all over the place, his had never shifted. He was completely lacking in all emotion—which was why he had no problem going along with the farce.

Considering she had always thought of herself as a restrained person—someone who could stand back and laugh at the weaknesses of other members of her sex, who got their emotions all tangled up, who ended up being ruled by them—it came as a shock to realise that she wasn’t quite the person she had thought herself to be.

She would have to learn fast.

‘When shall I pencil that in?’ she asked.

‘Whenever I tell you to. It will take full precedence over everything else.’

‘And I assume there will be some sort of stupid engagement party?’

‘I prefer the word lavish to stupid.’

Alexa glumly pictured the extravagant affair it would no doubt turn out to be. Lots of important people, and among them the friends she had made in her job—who would stick out like elephants in a tea shop.

‘I can’t see your father having a great time being entertained by my parents,’ she said snidely.

‘You’d be surprised. They may have their simmering feud, but they have still carried on mixing in the same social circles. You know well enough what it’s like over here.’

‘Not really. I’ve spent most of my time abroad. And anyway I never attended those events.’ Curiosity got the better of her. ‘You’ve seen our fathers interacting?’

‘On a couple of occasions. They bristle in each other’s company and yet end up having conversations—like a married couple who can’t help fighting but find it hard to stay away from one another. In a room of five hundred people, somehow they’ll end up right next to one another. And in between the fraught relations there’s usually a fair amount of gossip, which they can’t seem to help divulging. Which, in turn, is probably why my father turned to Carlo before heading to the nearest bank. It’s a strange case. So I shouldn’t worry over-much about your father at our engagement party...it won’t be a case of fisticuffs at dusk.’

‘Do you know why they fell out?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

This lull in hostilities was a temporary soothing balm, but she shook herself free and recalled that this was just a business arrangement with a man she didn’t even like.

The limousine was pulling up outside her house, but she remained sitting in the car for a few moments after the car had come to a stop in the courtyard.

‘Perhaps you could text me with details of when this visit to the jeweller’s is likely to be?’ she offered politely.

Theo dragged his thoughts away from the way she was sitting, her body towards him, leaning in so that the soft mounds of her breasts were temptingly on show.

‘Let’s say I pass by for you at noon tomorrow. The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned. We can choose a ring and then go somewhere to have lunch.’

Alexa couldn’t hide her dismay. ‘Lunch? Is that really necessary?’

‘Your constant shows of reluctance are really beginning to get on my nerves, Alexa! Yes, lunch! What exactly is your dilemma with that? We’re newly engaged. Has it occurred to you that as a newly engaged couple we might just want to celebrate together before scuttling off in opposite directions? Scuttling off in opposite directions would be more suited to a couple on the verge of divorce!’

Alexa glared, but this was her life for the time being and she knew that he was right. It was a game that had to be played to the full or not played at all.

She had embarked upon it, and it was too late now to start trying to renegotiate the terms of the contract.

‘I can meet you at the jeweller’s,’ she offered.

‘Not good enough. We’re browsing together. No need for hiking boots, though...’

‘Don’t worry,’ she sniped in return. ‘I know my trainers wouldn’t be suitable wear for being seen in public with you.’

‘You have to be the most argumentative woman I have ever met in my entire life,’ Theo mused in a driven undertone. ‘Are you this argumentative with all the men you’ve been out with?’

Alexa was momentarily caught on the back foot, because the number of men she had dated could be counted on the fingers of one hand and none of them had provoked her the way this man did.

‘I’ve never been out with anyone like you,’ she finally gathered enough wit to respond, and Theo grinned.

‘Are you telling me that I’m one of a kind?’

‘If I’m argumentative, then you’re downright impossible,’ she muttered. ‘I should be going in. The lights are on. My parents are probably waiting to hear how our first outing in public went—although judging from the amount of reporters there, they can probably find out in the papers tomorrow.’

‘If I’ve failed to mention it, you handled the evening incredibly well.’

Of their own volition, his eyes dipped to her full and still mutinous mouth.

‘Thank you. So did you,’ she responded in a stilted voice.

When she glanced down she could see her breasts, too big and too exposed for her liking—especially now that she was in the intimate confines of a car with him—and she surreptitiously adjusted her dress, hoping that he wouldn’t notice.

‘My mother will ask about this stupid...sorry, this lavish engagement party. I expect she’ll need time to sort it out. Could you give me an approximate...er...date? And I agree with you—the sooner the better.’

Theo marvelled that here was a woman who, only just engaged to be married to him, was clearly already thinking about the divorce papers being signed. Incredible. The fact that these were not normal circumstances did little to assuage his male pride.

‘At the outside...a fortnight.’

‘Will your brother attend as well as your father?’ she found herself asking, because she knew that his brother lived on the other side of the world and that during these transactions he hadn’t been a player on the scene.

Theo frowned. ‘All bets are off when it comes to that,’ he commented wryly. ‘Daniel is in the process of buying himself a toy, and it may remove him from the scene of the action while this drama is being played out.’

‘Buying a toy?’

‘He has his eye on a small cruise ship.’

Much as he loved his brother, Theo was quietly relieved that Daniel wouldn’t be around for the engagement party, such as it would be. Daniel could be counted on to respond with nothing but laughter at the fact that his big brother had found himself tying the knot prematurely. Actually, tying the knot at all.

‘I had no idea that cruise ships could be called toys...’ Alexa was distracted enough to say.

‘In which case you don’t know my brother.’

Alexa thought that that was just as well, because coping with one was bad enough. Two alpha males didn’t bear thinking about.

She pulled open the car door and stepped out into a balmy night. Of course he walked her to the door. No protective arm around her shoulder this time, though! Instead both hands were firmly thrust in his trouser pockets.

‘Isn’t your chauffeur going to think that we’re not behaving the way two nearly married people should be behaving?’ she couldn’t help but ask sarcastically, reaching into her bag for the house key, even though she knew that her mother was probably hovering very close to the front door so that she could pounce the second it was opened.

Theo lounged indolently against the door frame, looking down at her as she pulled out the key to insert it into the lock.

‘Is that an invitation?’ he asked softly.

Alexa raised startled eyes to his.

‘What—what on earth are you talking about now?’ she stammered, as her wide-eyed gaze was caught and held.

She had the oddest sensation that the oxygen was being sucked out of the air she was breathing as she continued to stare up at him. Her heart was fluttering madly, like a caged bird in a desperate bid for escape.

‘What do you think?’ Theo asked, in that same soft, lazy drawl that gave her goosebumps.

‘Are you suggesting that I actually want you to...to...?’

‘Kiss you? That’s exactly what I’m suggesting...’

‘Then you couldn’t be further from the mark!’ she snapped, blushing furiously and hating him for reminding her of their kiss, which she would rather have forgotten. ‘I’m fine with you being...being attentive when we’re out together, but the last thing I want is to be kissed by you! Do you know something, Theo De Angelis? You’re the most egotistical, arrogant man I have ever met!’

‘I know. I think you’ve told me already. But you make a valid point... Just in case...’

She sensed what he was about to do and yet it still took her by surprise—and this time there was an urgency to his kiss that hadn’t been there before. His mouth assailed hers, his tongue seeking out hers. He curved a big hand behind her back and pulled her towards him.

He could feel the softness of her breasts squashing against his chest and knew that he was losing his cool. Again. But her mouth was nectar-sweet—and after all, he told himself, it was all for the benefit of a driver who might or might not be taking note. Why take chances...?

‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He straightened. ‘Engagement ring shopping. Who would have thought...?’

With which he headed back to the car and Alexa, thoroughly unnerved, let herself into the house.

CHAPTER FOUR

AS PREDICTED, THE next day the centre pages of all the newspapers had been printed with at least half a dozen pictures of the loving couple. Whoever had taken the photos couldn’t have done better when it came to capturing angles that actually seemed to prove the lie that they were in love.

Theo’s arm was always around her. In several pictures Alexa was looking up at him, mouth parted, the very picture of an enraptured girlfriend—as opposed to wearing the teeth-clenched, resentful expression, which was a lot closer to the truth.

Cora Caldini, who was waiting for her when she emerged at a little after eight, had all the papers spread out on the massive dining room table and Alexa stifled a sigh.

‘I know this has all been unexpected for you,’ her mother said gently, ‘but there’s so much to be said for a whirlwind romance—and looking at these pictures...my darling, you sparkle.’

Alexa helped herself to coffee and a croissant from the basket of fresh bread on the sideboard. Sparkle? Did minnows sparkle in the presence of hungry, prowling sharks?

‘He’s certainly a force to contend with,’ Alexa forced herself to say. ‘And you’re right. It wasn’t...er...exactly what I had in mind when I thought about meeting the man of my dreams. In fact I’m a little dazed—because he’s just the sort of guy I never thought I’d...um...fall for. But...well...life is full of surprises, I guess...’

Unable to be more effusive than that, she scanned the photos once more and wondered whether the reporters had bothered with any other guests at all, or whether they had just decided to trail along behind Theo, snapping pictures.

‘Isn’t it...?’ Her mother beamed. ‘And sometimes surprises turn out all the better for being unexpected. It reminds me of when I met your father, as a matter of fact. Of course I’d seen him out and about, but at a distance, and when my parents arranged for us to meet face to face... Well, it really was love at first sight. He was nothing like what I’d expected, and I just fell for that rogue on the spot.’

Always mindful of the consultant’s warning words several months ago, in the wake of her mother’s third stroke, Alexa reluctantly decided to backtrack.

‘Theo’s...er...certainly not what I expected,’ she conceded. ‘I suppose he’s quite intelligent, and he has a certain amount of...er...charisma...’

‘Funny...your father likes him very much.’

Then perhaps he should marry Theo, Alexa thought nastily, surprising herself because she wasn’t an uncharitable person by nature.

‘That’s good.’

‘And I know you, my darling. You’re as headstrong as I was at your age. If you really didn’t like Theo I think we’d all know about it by now! You just don’t want to jinx anything—which is why you’re being reticent—and I completely understand. It took your father and I ages to have you, and I didn’t tell a soul I was pregnant until I couldn’t hide it any longer! So I won’t press you. Now, tell me what your plans are for today.’

Alexa told her mother and could immediately feel her tummy clench at the prospect of a few hours browsing for a ring and then having lunch in a trendy restaurant with him.

The memory of that blistering kiss the night before had preyed on her mind all night, and she had awoken determined to make sure that they kept a cool distance from one another when there was no one around.

Her thoughts drifted while her mother chatted about rings and reflected on how fast she and Carlo had progressed from that first meeting—marrying within three months and never regretting a day of their long and happy marriage.

Naturally Alexa had known that the man was good-looking. But why did he have to be so good-looking? Averagely good-looking would have been all right. She felt that she might have been able to cope with that. But something about Theo De Angelis sparked a reaction in her that burned as fierce as a conflagration.

She didn’t understand it. It didn’t make sense, And it unsettled her. Scared her, even—although what was there to be scared about?

She surfaced to catch the tail-end of her mother informing her that Theo was going to be dashing off to New York—apparently called away on business. Carlo had wanted to show him around the electronics plant later in the week, talk men stuff, but unfortunately it was a visit that would have to wait.

‘He never mentioned that,’ Alexa murmured, brightening. ‘When? Exactly?’

‘Tomorrow, I believe. Your father called him first thing this morning about a visit to the plant and it seems that an emergency blew up overnight. So he wouldn’t have mentioned anything to you when you were out.’

‘I don’t suppose you know how long he’ll be away, do you, Mother?’

‘A week at the very least... I’m sure he’ll be most apologetic when he sees you later and will explain it all himself. If there’s one thing I can say for Stefano’s son it’s that he’s an extremely polite young man...’

Good humour restored on the back of the heartening news that she was going to have a break from Theo, Alexa spent the remainder of the morning looking through her law books, making sure her brain was still ticking over. She dealt with a variety of problems at the shelter on a daily basis, and some of them were practical—questions pertaining to government allowances, retrieving cash from runaway partners, applying for social housing. It paid to keep abreast of the law, and it was no great hardship because she enjoyed it anyway.

At precisely eleven-thirty she got dressed, but she didn’t rush.

This time, her spirits light because with Theo out of the country for maybe as long as a fortnight she would at least have some respite from his dangerously incendiary personality, choosing what to wear was far less of a chore than it had been the evening before.

Jeans, but smart black ones, a cream silk camisole top, because it was beautifully warm outside, and flat black pumps. Everything was brand-new, and she was in a good mood when, at twelve sharp, the doorbell rang and she forestalled her mother to answer it.

This time there was no driver, which was even better—because with Theo driving she would be spared those intense, speculative green eyes on her.

‘You’re in a good mood,’ he said flatly, starting the engine of a Ferrari and easing it out of the courtyard towards the buzzing town centre. ‘Why does that make me instantly suspicious?’

Alexa relaxed against the passenger’s door, her head resting on the window, rolled up thanks to the air-conditioning which kept the temperature wonderfully cool.

She absently noted his strong jawline and the sharp beauty of his lean face, in profile now as he focused on the road. He was wearing black sunglasses and a navy blue polo shirt and cream trousers. He looked impossibly elegant.

She tugged her eyes away from him, simultaneously deciding that this was just the sort of thing that had to stop—this mindless staring at him—and again applauding the fact that he was going to be away for the next few days. Plenty of time during which she could recover her equilibrium.

‘I have no idea,’ Alexa said chirpily. ‘Doesn’t every girl like going out shopping for her engagement ring?’

Theo glanced narrowly at her, then relaxed and smiled. ‘Indeed. That would explain your good mood. You’re right. I have yet to meet a woman whose heart doesn’t beat faster at the prospect of all things bridal...’

Alexa scowled, because her saccharine-sweet sarcastic rejoinder had clearly backfired. ‘I honestly don’t think we should waste much time traipsing through shops in search of a diamond ring,’ she told him loftily.

‘Agreed.’ He put the fast car into cruise mode and relaxed in his seat. ‘There’s no need for us to be seen going from one shop to another in search of the perfect ring. We’ve already got all the press coverage we need. Speculation is rife that marriage is in the air... If we went to the corner shop and bought a plastic washer it would probably be enough.’

Alexa grimaced as she recalled the spread of newspapers her mother had neatly laid out on the table for her perusal. ‘Maybe they’ll leave us alone now?’ She breathed a sigh of relief at the thought.

‘I expect they’ll only leave us alone when there’s a chunky wedding ring on your finger. Before then there are infinite possibilities for our relationship to crash and burn—and disasters always make better headlines.’

‘Why would they assume that it will crash and burn?’ How on earth did real celebrities survive? she wondered. Without going completely mad? ‘And who cares if our relationship crashes and burns anyway? Who’s interested?’

Alexa was genuinely bewildered, because she might come from a wealthy background but—of her choosing—she was as noticeable as wallpaper. Theo might be similarly rich, with the added bonus of his looks, but he wasn’t a star...was he...?

Theo shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Don’t care. I just know how the world of media operates and I deal with it. So if you don’t want some trigger-happy reporter to shoot you leaving the house without your make-up, be warned.’

‘I honestly don’t care.’

Theo found an empty space in a crowded square around which designer shops extended outwards in ripples—layers of them, sandwiched between cafés and restaurants. In the centre of the square a trio of mythological creatures figured in bronze cavorted in the centre of an enormous fountain.

He turned to her and said, with utter seriousness, ‘You don’t, do you?’

‘No. Do you?’

‘I’m a man. I don’t tend to go out wearing make-up. Well, not unless I have to. Sometimes after a long night at work I find a bit of foundation under the eyes...’

Alexa felt her mouth twitch and she grinned shyly and reluctantly at him.

He killed the engine, but she got the impression that there were more questions he wanted to ask her. It felt as if he had been testing her boundary lines...placing one foot over the perimeter of her electric fence, threatening to make inroads. That made her shiver a little.

‘Right,’ he said briskly. ‘Engagement ring.’

In case she started falling behind him he curled his fingers into her hair and pressed his hand to the nape of her neck, gently making sure she kept up with him and slowing his naturally long stride to accommodate her much shorter one.

People turned and looked.

They clearly didn’t know exactly who Theo was, but Alexa could almost see their brains churning, trying to figure out why he was famous—because he just had to be, looking the way he did.

Something weird rippled through her. A surge of pride. That he was with her.

They bypassed the first three jeweller’s they came to and went directly to the fourth, which was little more than a nondescript door leading into a shop that was barely visible from the street outside.

‘How on earth do you know about this place?’

‘You’re a woman. How on earth do you not?’ From behind his dark shades Theo looked down at her upturned face, amused. ‘Have you made it your life’s mission to avoid leading the sort of life you were expected to lead?’

‘I’m not into expensive jewellery. Do you come here with your girlfriends?’

She was acutely conscious of his fingers, still in her hair, absently stroking her neck. It sent shivers racing up and down her spine, and she had to forcibly remind herself just how over the moon she was that he would be disappearing to salvage his business deal and she wouldn’t have to put up with these public shows of phoney affection.

Theo paused. ‘Quite some time ago a woman I was dating dragged me here and made a point of telling me how exquisite and expensive the jewellery was.’

‘So you bought her a diamond ring?’ Alexa squeaked.

‘Quite some time ago’ implied that the woman he had been dating might have been her age, and she was struck again at just how sheltered a life she had led—more interested in her studies than in getting a guy to buy her baubles and trinkets...waiting for love to knock on her door and refusing to spread herself thin in the meanwhile...

‘I broke off the relationship,’ Theo returned wryly. ‘I didn’t like the direction it was taking.’

Alexa stopped dead in her tracks. ‘You must hate this,’ she said with sudden force. ‘Being trapped into marrying me.’

‘The rewards outweigh the inconvenience,’ Theo said, fighting an urge to brush the hair blowing softly around her face from her eyes. ‘And your dowry is certainly a healthy incentive.’

Feeling like cattle that had been successfully bartered to a new master, Alexa spun round on her heels and pushed open the door to the jewellery shop—which was as unprepossessing on the inside as it was on the outside.

‘Take your time,’ Theo urged as they were ushered into comfortable chairs and the process of displaying rings began.

The owner of the shop was small, thin and extremely knowledgeable. He seemed to know everything there was to know about diamonds, and tray after tray was brought, with rings nestling in beds of velvet, unpriced and therefore probably priceless.

Since it wasn’t a real engagement Alexa didn’t care which ring she wore, but it would be ridiculous to choose something that was big and ostentatious.

‘What is your preference?’ She turned to look at Theo, who was lounging in the chair, his long legs stretched out to one side, lightly crossed at the ankles. ‘Why don’t you choose?’

Theo linked his fingers on his washboard-flat stomach and looked at the proprietor with a knowing, man-to-man grin.

‘Women!’ He shook his head with an expression of rueful indulgence. ‘As if my opinion would count for anything!’

He stroked her back with one possessive hand and his fingers lingered for fractionally too long on her bra strap. Alexa kept a smile pinned to her face and wriggled a little to dislodge his over-inquisitive hand.

‘The women do usually take the lead when it comes to choosing jewellery, sir.’

The proprietor returned Theo’s smile and Alexa gritted her teeth as Theo patted her a couple of times on her back and then linked his fingers lightly on his lap once again.

‘And this feisty little lady knows that she can have whatever she wants! So what do you want?’ He looked at her with lazy, sexy bedroom eyes. ‘Your wish is my command...’

‘If only that were true,’ Alexa returned pointedly.

She bared her teeth in a smile and hoped that he was sharp enough to read the hidden message, which was along the lines of If my wish was your command, you would be on the other side of the world...

Without warning, Theo leaned forward and quickly, but far too effectively, planted a kiss on her mouth.

Their eyes tangled and she realised, heart beating frantically, that he knew exactly what she had been implying and had duly punished her with that kiss.

To add insult to injury, as she returned her attention to the tray in front of her, she felt his big hand rest on her leg and then, shockingly, move upwards, curving over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and sending a frisson of electric response through her.

Perspiration beaded her upper lip. She snapped her legs shut and pointed to any ring on the tray—she didn’t even notice which one she had chosen.

‘That’ll do!’

Theo’s hand on her thigh tightened.

‘Perfect choice, if I may say so myself...’

The proprietor reverently removed it from its velvet bed and they listened to his rhapsodies about the purity of the diamond and the rarity of its setting. They were asked to pay attention to the tiny details in the band, which marked it out as a one-off. Alexa was made to try it on. Measurements were painstakingly taken.

The ring cost a small fortune, so it wasn’t hard to understand why the whole process was taking for ever.

‘That’ll do...?’ It was the first thing Theo said as they made their way out of the shop.

‘Your hand was on my leg,’ Alexa said stiffly. And his arm was around her shoulders now. The public face of unity was back in place, although her body was as rigid as a plank of wood.

‘Perfectly natural,’ Theo purred, giving her shoulder a little squeeze as he guided her to one of the hippest cafés in the area—a place where people went to be seen. ‘You’re my fiancée. Of course I’m going to want to touch you. Frankly, I can’t keep my hands off you...’

It was a load of nonsense, but Alexa still shivered with an illicit little thrill.

Her treacherous mind wondered what it must be like to have this sinfully sexy guy say those words and mean them...

What would it feel like to actually know that he couldn’t keep his hands off her...?

Her eyes skittered across to him—a quick glance at his face, once again shielded behind his sunglasses. Then, rebelling against all common sense, she noted the width of his shoulders, the lean muscularity of his body, the strength of his forearms and the way his dark hair curled around the dull metal of his watch strap.

She found herself drinking him in and felt her nervous system ratcheting up a notch.

In a couple of days she would be wearing a large diamond rock on her finger. Speculation, such as there was, would be over and she would be officially engaged to the guy now attracting stares from every single woman under the age of eighty and over the age of eighteen.

She was short and unspectacular. He was physical perfection. Even if he did get under her skin in ways that made her want to scream, there was no way that she could deny the sheer beauty of the man.

Was it any wonder that he was taking all this in his stride? He was accustomed to women. A phoney engagement wouldn’t faze him and he would be particularly incentivised by the carrot at the end of the stick. He didn’t need yet more money, but since when did the wealthy ever turn down the opportunity to add to their bank vaults? Never.

As expected, every head swivelled in their direction, and Alexa saw one very leggy blonde disengage herself from her group of friends and make a beeline in their direction.

She stifled a groan.

The blonde stalked towards them, her sharp bob expertly cut and dropping squarely to her shoulders. Even in flats she was close to six foot, and wearing next to nothing. She was rake-thin, flat as a pancake, and had the longest legs Alexa had ever seen—and most of those long legs were exposed because her skirt barely covered her underwear.

Her body language said it all as she chose to ignore Alexa completely, focusing one hundred per cent of her blue-eyed attention on Theo. Surely it couldn’t be true? The blonde ran her china blue eyes dismissively over Alexa. The press had it all wrong, hadn’t they?

‘I mean, I just can’t believe it!’ she squeaked, sliding him a naughty smile that was designed to eliminate Alexa from the conversation.

She placed a flattened palm on his chest and shimmied a little closer. Her hair was so silky and so unbelievably blonde that Alexa could only stare in wonder.

‘Andrea...’ Theo caught the blonde’s hand, halted it firmly in its tracks and held it slightly at a distance before dropping it. It was a gesture that was cool and indifferent. Alexa would have been mortified. The blonde remained perky and upbeat. ‘I’d like you to meet Alexa...’

‘You’re really short, aren’t you?’

‘Alexa is my fiancée.’ Theo’s voice was soft, silky, glacial. ‘And now, before I start getting annoyed at your interruption, I suggest you take yourself back to your group of friends.’

For a few seconds the blonde was nonplussed. Alexa almost, but not quite, felt sorry for her. In her world she would rule supreme, but with a few words from Theo she was reduced to a woman of no standing.

‘You don’t mean that...’

She tried for provocative and Alexa, with a stab of pure womanly satisfaction, could have told her that she had made a mistake. One look at Theo’s shuttered face should have sent the blonde running for cover.

‘I mean it, Andrea. I’m giving you two seconds. You don’t leave...you see that big guy, standing on the corner...?’

Andrea left, head held high, long, slim body taut with anger and wounded pride.

‘I don’t mind leaving if you feel that you might be uncomfortable here...’ Alexa hovered, uncertain as to what to say in the wake of that dramatic scene.

Theo looked down at her, bemused. ‘Why would I feel uncomfortable?’

He signalled with a nod to a hassled-looking waitress, who immediately patted her hair and plastered a smile on her face when she spotted him. Every other customer apparently forgotten, she dashed over to them and cleared a path to a table at the back of the restaurant.

‘It’s reserved,’ the waitress confided with a giggle, ‘but I’ll sort something else out for the women who reserved it...’

Alexa automatically opened her mouth to protest, but Theo was already sitting and ordering a bottle of wine for them to share without looking at the menu.

‘Why do you think I would feel uncomfortable?’ he asked again, as soon as she was seated. ‘And stop looking guilty because someone else had reserved this table. That charming little waitress said she’d sort it out—let’s let her do her job.’

‘Her job isn’t to pander to customers who haven’t booked a table.’

‘Not my problem.’ He shrugged. ‘Now, moving on...’

Alexa sighed. The man was utterly impossible. The more time she spent in his company, the more cemented that impression became.

‘I guess that woman must be one of your girlfriends and I just thought it might be awkward for you to be in the same place as she is when you know she’ll probably be gossiping about you to her friends...’

Theo was looking utterly relaxed. ‘You guess correctly,’ he said, pushing back his chair to accommodate his long body. ‘Ex-girlfriend. Barely lasted a month, if you want the truth. The woman turned out to be a bunny-boiler. What started as a little bit of fun with a reasonably attractive woman turned into a dozen phone calls a day and attempts to get into my diary to make sure I wasn’t seeing anyone else...’

Andrea had wanted a hell of a lot more than he had been prepared to give. Big mistake. On the love front...he had nothing to give. He’d seen what unrestrained emotions did to a guy—had seen the way his mother’s death had destroyed his father...the way it had left a great gaping hole in his and Daniel’s lives. No. Frothy, dewy-eyed looks from women were the ultimate turn-off to him, and trying to get anything more out of him than passion was their fastest way to the exit.

Alexa’s mind had become stuck on his description of the blonde bombshell as a ‘reasonably attractive woman’.

What on earth did he consider stunning? Were his values so much different from everyone else’s because of the way he looked? What on earth must he think of her?

‘Some women are possessive, I guess...’ she said.

Wine had been brought to the table and poured into oversized goblets and she took a sip of the chilled liquid and then stared at the glass—which seemed less fraught with potential danger than staring at him and getting into a mental muddle.

Theo nodded. He found it amazing that a life of luxury and wealth appeared to have had so little effect on the woman sitting opposite him. The privileges which should have turned her into the sort of vain, self-obsessed young woman he met every day of the week in his social circles seemed to have had the opposite effect. Frankly, and against all odds, she roused his curiosity.

‘I’ve always found it a healthy option to stay away from those,’ Theo drawled. ‘Life’s too short to waste any of it with a woman who wants to micro-manage my life. No, I don’t give a damn if Andrea is sitting five inches away from us, gossiping with her friends.The only thing Andrea will tell anyone is that I am now engaged.’

‘Engaged to someone short.’

He laughed, and his cool green eyes skirted over her flushed face. ‘There’s no law about falling in love with someone who doesn’t fit the insane prototype other people have come up with,’ he murmured.

No, Alexa thought, and as he had pointed out they made the perfect society match. Two prominent families united in marriage. Who would think to scratch beneath the surface to see two individuals who couldn’t have been less suited?

‘How is it that you have never settled down?’ she asked with blunt curiosity.

It was an extremely personal question—but why not? There would be occasions they spent together away from the spotlight, and they couldn’t lapse into silence whenever they were together, could they? It would make living together extremely difficult—even if their living together would be taking place in opposite wings of whatever house they ended up living in...

She wondered whether they might not end up being friends, and then nearly laughed hysterically at that notion—because the man was just too much, too larger than life, to be considered a potential buddy. Potential buddies didn’t make you feel as though you were standing on the edge of a precipice, looking down. Buddies were comfortable to be around, unthreatening, safe...

Theo looked at her consideringly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his ex-girlfriend shooting venomous looks in their direction. He wanted to grin, because he knew that the single thing that would enrage Andrea and all those women like her—all those beautiful, arrogantly self-assured women he had dated in the past—was the fact that he was engaged to someone they would consider downright plain.

The fact that Alexa had been born to privilege would make little difference. Beautiful women were notoriously superficial when it came to judging other women, by standards that were almost always according to looks.

He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness towards his fake wife-to-be.

He reached forward and stroked the side of her face, linking his fingers through hers at the same time.

Another public display of affection, Alexa thought as her heart picked up a frantic pace. And particularly appropriate given that their actions were being minutely watched by an ex-girlfriend who would be busy spreading the news that the most eligible man on the planet had been caught.

An ex-girlfriend who was probably appalled and stunned that he had been stupid enough to fall for someone like her...

Alexa had always known that when it came to looks she could only ever aspire to be average. She didn’t have razor-sharp cheekbones or long, thirty-four-inch legs or shiny poker-straight hair. She had never felt comfortable in revealing clothes and largely avoided wearing anything that was too bright or too eye-catching.

And yet here she was. Engaged to a man who could have any woman he wanted with the crook of one imperious finger.

Okay, so it might all be pretend, but just for a moment she felt something wicked steal into her. A purely feminine response kicked into gear. His fingers were still entwined with hers and she slowly lifted them to her lips and grazed his knuckles with her mouth.

Heat flared in Theo’s eyes. She could almost hear his sharply indrawn breath.

Alexa felt a rush of unfamiliar daring. She raised her eyes to his and held his stare, watched the way his slow smile transformed his face and tried hard not to panic when he leaned in close to her, creating a little bubble of intense intimacy between them.

Nerves threatened to overtake her, but she could feel the blonde’s glassy blue eyes boring into her back and that gave her the impetus she needed to lean right into him. To offer her lips to him.

And when he kissed her she responded with an enthusiastic lack of inhibition. She slid her tongue against his and stifled a little moan as, eyes closed, she indulged in naked, forbidden desire.

This was what was expected of her. She was his fiancée. He had confirmed that to an ex-girlfriend, who would have been surprised if they had continued sitting opposite one another making polite conversation. Theo De Angelis was an intensely physical man. You just had to look at him to know that. So kissing him like this, curling her hand into his hair, was only to be expected.

She was just playing the part she had been commissioned to play!

It was liberating to think that she wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

It was permission granted to sink into a kiss that was...explosive.

When she pulled back she knew that she was shaking a little, and she licked her lips and forced a smile.

‘Just for show,’ she mumbled, and Theo raised his eyebrows.

‘I like it,’ he murmured softly. ‘I sense a change from all those other displays of affection you didn’t seem to enjoy—or was I wrong about that...? Were you actually burning up and looking for a few encores?’

‘Of course not!’ Her mouth was still tingling from that searing kiss. ‘But...’

‘But you thought you’d take the opportunity to get one up on the delectable ex-girlfriend who’s been shooting you daggers behind your back...?’

‘Of course not!’ But she blushed furiously.

Theo grinned. ‘Trust me, I don’t have a problem with your reasoning.’

‘I...I hope you don’t think that was anything but acting,’ Alexa breathed forcefully. ‘It’s just that you’ve announced that we’re engaged... I thought it would look odd if we didn’t act like a newly engaged couple. I mean...you’re the one who’s kept telling me that we have to make this stupid charade look real...’

‘Of course...’ He paused, wondering just how real he would like the charade to be. Complications aside... ‘And I’m heartened that you’re now in such a positive mindset,’ he told her, ‘because I should tell you that I’ve been called away on business. I will be out of the country for a week. Maybe a bit less...maybe a bit longer. It’s hard to tell because this is a complex deal...’

‘I know.’

‘You do?’

‘My mother broke the news while she was poring over all the pictures of us together at that art opening we attended last night. Don’t worry...’ Now, more than ever, Alexa was looking forward to a few days on her own—away from his powerful, charismatic personality and the weirdness of their situation. ‘I’ll make sure to keep the home fires of the newly engaged couple burning...’

‘You won’t have to do that,’ Theo informed her kindly.

‘I won’t?’

‘Don’t be silly. How could you think for a moment that I would want you out of my sight for an hour, never mind a week...? No, there will be no need to keep those home fires burning, because you will be right there with me...by my side...’

CHAPTER FIVE

ALEXA WAS APPALLED. She stared at him in open-mouthed consternation, forgetting that her every move was being watched by an interested party.

‘Coming with you?’ she stuttered.

‘Step one in assimilating into my lifestyle,’ Theo said smoothly. He leaned back and slouched elegantly in the chair. ‘You may hate premieres and art gallery openings, but there will be a certain amount of socialising that you will have to do—like it or not.’

He signalled for the bill without taking his eyes from her face. ‘I’m not a fan of meeting and greeting people I have no intention of forming any sort of relationship with,’ Theo said drily, ‘but it’s all part and parcel of the game.’

‘Why do I get the feeling that everything about this arrangement is on your terms?’

‘Explain.’

‘Your father is the one who needed a bail-out,’ Alexa muttered, feeling terrible at having to remind him of that little detail, because she liked what little she had seen of Stefano De Angelis and was sorry that he, a proud man, had found himself in the position of having to ask for financial assistance from a man he was not on speaking terms with. Although she was beginning to suspect that their so-called feud had petered out into two old men warring through habit over something both had long forgotten about.

Theo’s mouth tightened. His father might have taken his eye off the ball, but he didn’t need to rehash that misfortune. And he certainly wasn’t interested in anyone rehashing it on his behalf.

‘He is—but that’s old news now. I don’t see the point in moaning about what can’t be changed.’

‘I’m not moaning.’ Alexa fiddled with the stem of her wine glass and wondered where all the contents had gone. She’d barely been aware of drinking. Or eating, for that matter. She raised her eyes to his and struggled to look away. ‘I just think that my life has been completely disrupted while you continue to carry on as if nothing much has happened...’

‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It makes sense for you to move to London after we are married. I can’t conduct my business from here. And remind me... As far as I am aware you don’t currently have many ties to this place. You’ve quit your job and your only other interest appears to be helping at a shelter somewhere. Nothing that can’t be left behind at a moment’s notice.’

Alexa felt rage rush through her with tidal wave force. If they’d been anywhere but here she would have been tempted to chuck something at him.

How dared he take her life, sum it up and write it off in a handful of words?

But perhaps that was how he treated all women? she thought with scathing distaste.

‘Are you like this with all women?’ she asked tightly.

‘How do you mean?’

Theo frowned, puzzled. How had they gone from a perfectly rational conversation about the dynamics of their married life to some opaque query about his treatment of women? He realised that never before had he had to hold himself to account with anyone—far less a woman.

Her bright eyes glittered as she waited in silence for a response.

Theo raked his fingers through his hair and muttered an oath under his breath. ‘I have no idea where you’re going with this...’

‘It’s a simple question,’ Alexa said stubbornly.

‘I’m extremely fair in my treatment of women,’ he said impatiently. ‘Exemplary, some might say.’

‘Really?’

‘Time to go, I think.’

‘Only if you answer my question.’ She didn’t know why it was important to her. She just had a vague feeling that she had to have some say in what was going on or else he would take control of the reins and she would find life as she knew it disappearing even faster than it already was.

‘I already have.’

‘I feel like you’re bullying me.’

Theo shot her a look of pure incredulity. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this!’

‘You expect me to change my whole life! You don’t even bother pretending that I have any say in the matter!’

‘I’m cutting through the red tape,’ Theo pointed out, with irrefutable logic as far as he was concerned. ‘There’s nothing you have here that ties you down.’

‘What about my parents?’

‘Your parents can come to London any time they want,’ Theo pointed out. ‘In fact I assume they already do, given that your father has business interests there...’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘It’s exactly the point—and if you would stop looking at the big picture with irrational feminine logic you would agree with me.’

‘Sometimes,’ Alexa gritted, ‘I really want to hit you.’

‘Who knows...?’ he replied without hesitation. ‘Maybe you will. Although if you do, it won’t be in anger...’

‘What are you talking about?’

Colour crawled into her cheeks as he raised his eyebrows and shot her a slow, deliberate smile. Her treacherous body tingled. Try as she might, she couldn’t bank down the sudden tightening of her nipples, achingly sensitive as they grazed against her lacy bra. And she was aghast to feel spreading dampness between her legs.

‘Never tried a bit of bondage?’ Theo asked, enjoying the hectic flush in her cheeks. ‘I admit I do prefer my women to fully participate in the action—although who knows...? I’m a man who has always been open to new experiences...’

‘I’ve already told you...’ Alexa could barely get the words out because her mouth was so dry. ‘We won’t be... That won’t be part of the deal...’

Did she have any idea how much he disliked being told that there was something he couldn’t do? Theo thought that if she did she might refrain from that approach.

‘Anyway, we’re straying off the topic.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t like feeling that I have no input.’

‘And you’re implying that that’s the way I treat women generally? You’re telling me that you think I’m a bully who takes advantage of women...?’

Alexa cringed because, put like that, it seemed a crazy accusation. If he was a mean bully who took advantage of women why would they care if they were dumped? That blonde who had sidled up to him still had the hots for him. That had been very obvious. And she was the sort of woman who could have any man she wanted. If money had been the only thing keeping her in a relationship with Theo, there was no way she would have looked at him the way a starving man eyed up his next meal.

‘I’m just saying—’

‘I have never bullied a woman in my life before,’ Theo interrupted coldly. ‘I have extremely healthy relationships with the opposite sex. I am honest to a fault. I have never pretended that commitment and marriage is a possible destination. I have always told them upfront that I’m in it for fun and that fun doesn’t last—that beyond that I have nothing to give. But while they’re with me they couldn’t be treated better. Andrea, as a case in point, was showered with presents and taken to the sort of glittering social dos that have gone a long way to kick-starting her career in film.’

Alexa didn’t say anything, because he seemed to expect congratulations for being the sort of guy most women who wanted something other than a ten-second fling would run a mile from. And she was sure that a lot of those women who had been given his rousing speech on not getting thoughts of permanence wouldn’t have been quite as cheerful when they were dispatched as he liked to think.

‘What do you mean that you have nothing to give beyond fun? Why?’

Theo flushed darkly and immediately decided that he had imparted enough information on the subject of his private life. Inside, where the soul stored love, his soul was empty. No reserves left. That place, instead, stored the pain of his father’s reaction to loss and the hurt of his own loss...all the result of that big thing called love.

‘I’m not laying down laws,’ he said snappily, bringing the conversation back to the matter in hand. ‘Feel free to tell me if you think it’s feasible for me to set up camp here for the duration of our short marriage... Even when you have no strenuous objections to moving to London aside from the fact that it was a decision you feel you didn’t reach of your own free will.’

‘I’ve never had anyone make decisions on my behalf.’ She stuck stubbornly to her guns, but she knew that her moral high ground was being eroded from all directions.

‘Then maybe you should sit back and enjoy the novelty.’

Theo knew that that remark was tantamount to waving a red rag at a bull with an axe to grind, but he couldn’t help himself. Something about the way she reddened and pursed her lips and glared made for addictive watching.

Alexa refused to rise to the bait. They exchanged a brief look, during which a lot seemed to be said without any words passing between them. She communicated with a slight tilt of her chin that she knew exactly what game he was playing—knew that he was trying to rile her because it amused him—and he, in turn, acknowledged the truth in that.

The moment unnerved her.

‘I don’t like being told what I can wear and what I can’t,’ she confessed shortly.

‘So I’m taking it that part one of your complaint has been dealt with? You’re in agreement with me that London would be the best base for us?’ He sighed. ‘Decisions have to be made,’ he said heavily, ‘whether you like it or not. Your parents are more than welcome to come and stay with us whenever they want and let’s cut to the chase: we’ll only be together for just as long as it takes for the ink to dry on our marriage certificate...’

‘It’s awful. I never thought that I’d end up getting married for all the wrong reasons...’

It was a sobering thought. An arranged marriage—a marriage of convenience—was a marriage without love, and she had always imagined love and marriage as two words inextricably bound together. Yet to some extent her parents’ marriage had started on lines very similar to those she was now having to endure.

This tangent threatened to lead them down all sorts of unfamiliar paths, and meandering chat about emotional issues just wasn’t his forte, but when Theo looked at the heartfelt expression on her face he found it hard to feel exasperation.

‘Love disappears,’ he said gruffly. ‘And even when it doesn’t it burns so strong that it consumes everything around it and ends up self-imploding.’

They were leaning into one another, unconsciously promoting a space around themselves that excluded everyone else in the restaurant, and for that he was glad—because a bride-to-be with a downcast, near to tears expression could in no way be interpreted as a bride-to-be contemplating the happiest day of her life.

As it looked from the outside, they were two people huddled and whispering sweet nothings to one another.

He entwined his fingers with hers and absently stroked her thumb with his to promote the illusion.

‘I prefer not to think that way. I prefer to think that you can really find your soulmate and, yes, live happily ever after without everything “self-imploding”, as you say. Or else disappearing like water down a drain. That’s not how love works. I might be stupid, but I’d like to think that the man for me, the man who can make me happy, is out there...and I’ll find him. We’ll find one another.’

‘And who’s to say that won’t happen...?’

‘What do you mean?’ For a few seconds Alexa was genuinely disconcerted. Was he talking about them? Insinuating that their marriage of convenience could end up becoming the real thing?

‘I mean you will move on from me and find this man of your dreams—maybe a little later than you originally planned, and not quite in the order you might have anticipated, but who knows...?’

‘What’s made you so cynical?’ she asked, flabbergasted at the casual way he was happy to dismiss their marriage and divorce as just something a little inconvenient—something that could be swept aside in the future as though it had never happened.

Whether they were married for twelve months or twelve minutes, and whether she liked him or not, he would leave an impression. She would not be the same person she had been before.

‘Let’s leave that thorny subject for another day,’ Theo told her wryly. ‘I’ll let you know when we’ll be leaving for the States...’

‘I didn’t say that I was coming with you.’

‘Are you going to argue with each and every small thing until we finally part company and go our separate ways? Because if that’s your intention it’s going to be a very long twelve months.’

‘I’m not being argumentative.’ She glared at him mutinously and in return he raised his eyebrows in cynical disagreement. ‘But if I’m obliged to fall in line and never complain then I think it’s only fair that you fall in line a bit as well.’

‘Are we about to have another bracing conversation about the “separate bedrooms post-marriage” clause?’

‘I’d like you to sample how I live,’ Alexa continued doggedly. ‘You want me to go to all sorts of stupid fancy social dos—’

‘Don’t write them all off. You might find that you actually enjoy some...’

Alexa chose to ignore that interruption. ‘The least you could do is try and understand what I’ll be sacrificing.’

Theo raised his eyebrows and began standing up. He was at a loss to understand what she was talking about. Of course the ‘pause’ button would have to be pressed on her fairy-tale love and perfect soulmate, but she was young. Plenty of time for her to find that once their committed spell together was at an end.

Frankly, he could tell her that airy-fairy dreams were a certain recipe for disappointment—but what would be the point of that? She would find out soon enough. She was an enduring romantic, while he...he had about as much faith or interest in romance as a turkey had in signing up for centrepiece duties next to the carving knife on Christmas Day.

She had asked him why he was cynical. He could have told her that he’d had a close-up view of just the sort of pain love could bring—the sort of pain that no one in their right mind would want inflicted on them.

It tended to turn a guy off marriage. Although, in fairness, he knew the day would come when marriage would make sense, and when that day came he anticipated something very much like what he now had—but without the complication of a partner in search of the impossible. Emotions would not take over, leaving him vulnerable to going through what his father had gone through.

Of course he was a very different man from his father. Stefano had met his wife when they had both been young. They had fallen in love when they had both been green around the ears. Theo was anything but green around the ears. The opposite. And he prided himself on having the sort of formidable control that would never see him prey to anything he didn’t want to feel.

An arranged marriage with the right woman—a woman who wasn’t looking for anything that wasn’t on the table—would be the kind of marriage he would eventually subscribe to. It made sense.

‘Do tell me what that would be. What great “sacrifices” will you be making? Tell me. I’m all ears...’

They were outside now, walking in the balmy sun. He had a case load of documents to read before his trip to New York, but he didn’t think that a few minutes prolonging their conversation would hurt.

‘I can show you.’

She hailed a cab and leant forward to give the taxi driver an address. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that time was money, but he desisted. Why provide her with another excuse to stage an argument? He had never met a woman as stubborn and as mulish as she was, and those were traits he had no time for. His life was stressful enough, without having a woman digging her heels in and finding objections to every single thing he said or suggested.

‘We’re here.’

‘Here? Where?’ The designer shops and smart cafés had been left behind, to be replaced with dingy shop fronts and fast food outlets. It was the sort of place Theo had only ever passed with the windows of his chauffeur-driven car rolled up.

‘The shelter where I volunteer,’ Alexa told him.

She pointed to a building next to a pawn shop. A grim concrete block fronted by a no-nonsense black door that would have deterred anyone but the most foolhardy.

‘I want you to come in and see it—meet some of the other volunteers I work with.’ She sprang out of the car, only realising that he hadn’t followed when she had slammed the door behind her, at which point she reopened her door and peered inside at him.

‘You’re not scared, are you?’ She smirked, because for the first time since she had boarded the rollercoaster ride that had become her life she felt as if she had the upper hand. ‘I promise I won’t let anything happen to you...’

Theo looked at her, partly outraged because no one had ever dared accuse him of being scared of anything in his life before, partly amused because she had wrong-footed him and not many had done that either.

‘What do you think I might be scared of?’ he murmured as they headed into the shelter.

‘A new experience?’ She blushed, hearing the teasing tone in her voice.

‘You’ve broken the ice on that one,’ Theo pointed out drily. ‘When it comes to new experiences, you rank right up there as a first.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Alexa threw back at him, because she knew that a compliment it certainly hadn’t been meant to be.

He smiled slowly, his amazing eyes skirting over her flushed face and doing a lazy inventory of everything else.

‘You should,’ he murmured. ‘I have a jaded palate, and new experiences are always welcome...’

‘Even unpleasant ones?’

‘What are we talking about, here? The shelter...or you...?’

He was leaning against the door, towering over her, and she felt her heart begin to race. His voice was as smooth as the finest dark chocolate and his eyes were doing all sorts of weird things to her nervous system, muddling her thoughts and stripping her of that momentary feeling of triumph she’d had moments earlier.

She rang the bell and turned away, although she could still feel him staring at her, and suddenly the memory of all those convenient kisses slammed into her, depriving her of breath.

She didn’t like him, she reminded herself fiercely. Not only did she not like him—she didn’t like the situation she was in.

But he was so sinfully good-looking. He had the sort of face that made her want to stare with helpless fixation and keep on staring. He had that effect on every woman. She had witnessed it for herself. And, whilst she had thought herself immune to that sort of thing, she had to accept the galling truth that she wasn’t as immune as she wanted to be.

That was why she found it so unsettling whenever he got too close to her, and why the thought of those kisses kept her awake at night. She was human, and she lacked the necessary experience to deal with a man like Theo De Angelis. All her old-fashioned ideas about only ever being attracted to her soulmate had been turned on their head...

Which didn’t mean that they had disappeared! No, it just meant that she responded to him on a purely physical level, and it was only now that she was accepting that unpalatable truth. She’d always assumed that, for her, physical attraction would only be possible when it was to the guy who had stolen her heart, but she’d been wrong. She could see that now.

Which was a good thing.

Once you knew your enemy, you knew how to arm yourself—and her enemy was her treacherous body. She would just have to make sure that she maintained as much distance as she could and never, ever repeated the mistake she had made at the restaurant, when she had initiated that kiss and totally lost herself in it.

It was great that she was going to introduce him to what she did, because it was the one area in which he would be at sea—and that was something she would really enjoy watching.

‘You’re smiling...’ he leant in to whisper as footsteps were heard on the opposite side of the door. ‘Private joke or something you’d care to share?’

‘Private joke,’ she told him promptly.

She looked away as the door was opened and felt a lump in her throat, because she knew that she was going to miss the shelter beyond words when she disappeared off to London.

The prospect of the lifestyle awaiting her there made her want to burst into tears.

Not that he would ever understand.

She sneaked a sideways glance at him and, introductions made, took a background seat to watch the spectacle of the great Theo De Angelis fumbling awkwardly in a situation of which he would have had no experience.

He didn’t fumble. He charmed all the women there, Franca and Louisa and Marie and Ndali. He introduced himself to some of the women who came to them for practical and emotional help. He pried and prodded into all the rooms and asked so many questions that anyone would have thought that he was an expert on women’s shelters.

He talked finance with the guy who ran the place, and made a show of looking at the books. He even went so far as to make suggestions on how small improvements could be made!

She had hoped to watch him squirm, and instead he had dumbfounded her with lots of phoney interest.

‘So what exactly is your role there?’ was the first thing he asked when they were back outside an hour and a half later.

The work awaiting his attention would have to wait and he had resigned himself to that. Allowing work to take second place to anything was an alien concept to him, but he had watched her as they walked through the premises, watched her interaction with her colleagues, and the casual, friendly, concerned manner with which she had spoken to the some of the women waiting in queues to be seen or chatting to the other volunteers.

Everything about her had breathed open sincerity. Her laughter with her colleagues had been rich and infectious. Frankly, it was the sort of laughter that had been conspicuously absent between them, and he had been irked by that.

He had been tolerant of her hostility, even though he privately thought that she should have taken her cue from him and dealt with the whole unfortunate situation with a bit more aplomb—because why rail against the inevitable? And besides, it wasn’t destined to be a lifetime situation. He had gritted his teeth at the patently grudging reluctance in her responses to him and the ease with which she accepted as fact the thought that he was deplorable.

But here he had glimpsed a side to her that he hadn’t seen before.

It was rare for any woman not to respond to him. Even when he was uninterested in them they still tried hard around him. He had made exceptions for her because of the circumstances of their forced relationship, but only now was he accepting that her indifference was an offence to his pride.

On a more basic level, he wanted what he had seen of her at that shelter. It was human nature to desire the things that are denied. Fact of life.

Alexa was making sure to keep as much distance between them as was acceptable, considering they were supposed to be madly in love. People who were madly in love didn’t necessarily have to hold hands everywhere they went—and besides, no one in these streets knew who they were.

Niggling away at the top of her mind was the uncomfortable thought that she fancied the man, and that her plan of seeing him out of his depth and floundering in unfamiliar surroundings—which she had hoped might put the brakes on her stupid attraction to him—had spectacularly backfired.

She should have guessed. He could pull that charm out when it was needed like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

‘Are you really interested?’ she asked, then belatedly remembered what he had said about her arguing with everything he said. ‘Sorry,’ she apologised. ‘Even if you’re not really interested, it’s thoughtful of you to pretend to be.’

She was determined to stop letting him get under her skin and rattle her. If she could reach a higher plane of being cool and controlled when she was around him, then her wayward responses could be harnessed and quickly killed off. Fancying someone because of the way they looked was so superficial that it surely couldn’t last longer than two minutes.

‘And,’ she continued, ‘you put on a really good show of being interested in what went on there.’

Theo’s mouth tightened. Whatever he said or did, she was determined not to give him the benefit of the doubt and it was really beginning to get on his nerves.

‘So what exactly is your role there?’ he repeated, keeping his voice even and neutral.

They were heading back in the direction of the bars and shops and cafés, looking out for any passing taxis and walking until they could hail one. They had quickly left behind the insalubrious neighbourhood where they had just been, and the houses to either side of them now were well maintained but small and all exactly alike.

Theo realised that this was a part of town he had never actually visited. He wasn’t in the country a lot, and when he was his visits were fleeting, because he far preferred to import his father to London.

Having always considered himself a man of the world—widely travelled, the recipient of far more global experiences than most people could ever dream of achieving in a lifetime—he now wondered when and how he had managed to isolate himself so entirely in a very specific social circle that was accessible only to the very, very wealthy. He was delivered to and from places in chauffeur-driven cars, never flew anything but first class, always had the most expensive seats at the opera or the theatre...

Alexa, having come from a very similar background to his own, should have followed the same route—maybe without the high-powered career—but she hadn’t and that roused his curiosity.

‘It wasn’t quite the sort of thing I was expecting,’ he expanded truthfully.

‘And what were you expecting?’

She turned to him and was dazzled by the glare from the sun, which threw his lean, handsome face into a mosaic of shadows. She shielded her eyes and squinted against the sun. Overcome by a sudden feeling of vertigo, she took a couple of small steps backwards.

‘A soup kitchen and people waving begging bowls at you?’

She took a deep breath and told herself that sniping and bristling was just a symptom of the stupid attraction she felt for the man, against all odds. If she carried on like that he would begin to wonder why he got under her skin the way he did, and the last thing she wanted was for him to suspect that he got to her, that she was so horribly alert to him.

‘I guess shelter might be the wrong word...’ She fought to inject polite indifference into her words. ‘Most people do think of the homeless when they hear the word shelter. It’s more of an advice bureau. Women come to us with all sorts of problems. Financial, personal... Often we redirect them to other services, but there are people on hand who are really experienced at listening and getting the desperate off the path they’ve gone down. We also have contacts with companies who offer jobs wherever possible, to help some of them get back on their feet...’

What she had really wanted to show him, Theo mused, were the sort of people she liked. He hadn’t been able to help noticing that the men there had been a ‘type’.

Caring, soft-spoken, touchy-feely...

Had she subconsciously wanted to show him the sort of guys she liked—was attracted to? Had her intention been to draw comparisons, so that she could underline how far short he fell of her ideal? Just another way of reinforcing her dislike for the position she was in and the man she would be forced to marry—like a Victorian bride being dragged to the altar, kicking and screaming.

And yet...

When she had pulled him towards her in the restaurant and kissed him... Hell, he knew enough about women to know that loathing and dislike hadn’t been behind that kiss. She might not want to admit it, but he had felt an urgency there and it intrigued him.

Why wouldn’t it?

‘Those are the people I enjoy being around,’ she carried on, pausing as his driver cruised up alongside them and stopped.

When had he summoned a driver? But of course that would suit him far better than a normal taxi, because there was the option of sliding up that partition so that their conversation could not be overheard. He was always one step ahead.

‘Is that your not so subtle way of telling me that those are the sort of men you enjoy being around?’ He slid into the seat alongside her and predictably slid up the partition, locking them into complete privacy.

Work hard, play hard. Alexa was beginning to understand that, for Theo, the priority was business and after that came sex. He didn’t do love and emotion but he did do sex. It was why he could be so cool about the situation they were in. He could detach.

‘Yes.’

She took a deep breath and thought she had been gifted a golden opportunity to make it perfectly clear to him that those were just the sort of guys she was attracted to. And by attraction she knew that she meant a lot more than just a passing physical tug.

‘Their priorities are all in the right places...’

‘Heart-warming,’ Theo drawled. ‘Not the most aggressive of men, though, are they...? One had his hair in a ponytail. I’m thinking that he might be the type to strum a guitar and sing a haunting ballad by way of entertaining a woman...’

‘Jorge is absolutely wonderful! Hugely caring! Besides, I don’t like aggressive men!’

‘And yet your father didn’t get where he is by being the sort of man who gets walked over...’

‘He’s not ruthless...’

‘He bartered you in marriage so that he could get me as a bonus prize...’ Theo pointed out flatly, because he didn’t do well when it came to accepting unfavourable comparisons.

‘He did it for Mum,’ she contradicted. ‘I admit he saw an opportunity and seized it, but are you telling me that you wouldn’t do the same thing? He’s been desperately worried about my mother and he was convinced that her health and her spirits would improve if...if she had this to focus on. And that’s why I agreed to...to go along with the pretence.’

‘And when the pretence comes to its inevitable crashing halt?’

‘A year is a long time,’ she mumbled, because that thought had occurred to her as well. ‘My mother’s health will be in a better place and she’ll be able to accept that the marriage didn’t work out. She’ll no longer spend her days thinking that she’s on her way out and will die before she sees me settled down.’

‘That’s very optimistic projecting,’ Theo declared, in just the sort of arrogantly self-assured voice that got on her nerves. ‘She might have a nervous breakdown when we tell her that, sadly, we’re joining the statistics of the happily divorced...’

‘That’s a risk my father was prepared to take and so am I,’ Alexa told him sharply. ‘Wouldn’t you have done the same if it had been your mother?’

Theo’s face closed down. ‘I don’t deal in pointless hypotheses.’

But it was just the sort of solution his father would have hit upon. Deal with today and let tomorrow be a bridge yet to be crossed. And, yes, Theo would have gone along for the ride. He would have done anything for his mother. He and Daniel both.

‘All that’s beside the point,’ he said, and shrugged elegantly. ‘Now, our little detour has eaten a chunk of my time. I’m going to get my driver to deliver you to your house and you can pack your bags for our trip to the States. And no protest-packing please...’ he added, for good measure. ‘During the day you can amuse yourself, but the evenings will be formal occasions. I expect we will be entertained on a fairly lavish scale.’

‘Fine—but I insist that we check in to separate rooms,’ Alexa told him.

‘Already done,’ Theo returned smoothly. ‘My person in New York has booked us a penthouse suite. Adjoining rooms...’

‘But...’

‘But what...? Do you think I might try and break down the door between us so that I can ravish you?’

Alexa felt hot colour rush into her cheeks. She had been so intent on laying down her ground rules that she hadn’t even considered the obvious—which was that he didn’t even fancy her.

‘You’re getting a little ahead of yourself,’ he said kindly. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘I was just...just...making sure... Of course I don’t think that!’ She thought of the stunning blonde and the nuisance she had eventually turned into and mortification made her skin tingle.

‘Then I’ll text you our timings and get my driver to collect you...’

They were pulling up outside her house and Alexa felt physically and emotionally drained. She was gripping the door handle before the car had even pulled to a stop.

‘Till tomorrow...’ he directed at her as she flipped open the door to step out.

Alexa turned and watched helplessly as the car pulled away. A week in New York, where thankfully their time together would be limited, but then would come their engagement party, and then, in short order, a wedding.

By then she would have to make sure that she...

That she was in control...

CHAPTER SIX

ALEXA KNEW WHAT to expect in New York. She had been there several times before and had always loved the buzz of the city that literally never slept.

She met Theo at the check-in desk at the airport, where he was waiting for her, chatting to the woman who had checked him in, who was trying to ignore the fact that there were two other people impatiently waiting in the queue behind him.

‘Is that all you’ve brought with you?’ were his opening words as he strolled towards Alexa, who had joined the back of the queue.

Unlike every other woman he had ever travelled with, Alexa had made absolutely no concession to the fact that they would be travelling first class and he liked that. She was in a pair of loose culottes and a T-shirt, with a cardigan lightly draped over her shoulders and flat ballet shoes. There wasn’t a scrap of colour in her outfit, and she had braided her long, untamed hair into a neat French plait which hung over one shoulder.

‘I have enough for a week—although you haven’t mentioned just how long I will be expected to stay.’

In response to that incendiary way of phrasing her question, Theo slung his arm over her shoulder and felt her tense.

‘What are you doing?’ Alexa squeaked as the line shuffled forward.

‘I’m getting you in the mood.’

‘In the mood for what?’

‘For being my adoring fiancée... And in answer to your question about how long we will be staying...my plans are fluid.’

‘What do you mean...?’ she asked, hopeful that his ‘fluid’ plans might entail a reduction in the time they would end up spending in the city. ‘Might we be there for less than a week...?’

Alexa looked up at him, eyes wide, and he shot her a half-smile before lowering his head and kissing her—a delicate kiss that feathered over her lips with just the lightest touch from his tongue. He pulled back and turned to the woman who had checked him in.

‘Newly engaged,’ he explained, giving Alexa a little squeeze so that she was pulled against him.

‘How romantic.’ The woman eyed Alexa with a look that shrieked, Lucky you, how did you manage that...? ‘When is the big day?’

She fiddled on her computer, checking her in and ticketing her bag at the same time.

‘Not soon enough,’ Theo answered on Alexa’s behalf. ‘The engagement ring is in the process of being altered. Who knows...? We might tie the knot even before the diamond is on your finger—mightn’t we, my darling?’

His low, throaty husk made her blood heat and she stared at the woman with a glassy smile.

‘Maybe not,’ she said gently. ‘I don’t think my mother would stand for that. She’s a stickler for tradition,’ Alexa expanded chirpily, ‘and by tradition I mean taking her time over the wedding arrangements! None of this crazy sprinting up the aisle!’

But then the sooner they tied the knot, the sooner they would untie it. It wasn’t a case of delaying something in the hope that it might disappear altogether if the delay was long enough. No such luck.

‘Speaking of diamonds...’ Theo told her as they headed towards the first class lounge and away from the chaos of the tax-free shopping area, which was packed.

‘Were we speaking of diamonds?’ Alexa used the pretence of stopping to peer into one of the shop windows to disengage herself from his embrace.

‘I’ve brought something for you...’

He left that teaser hanging in the air as they reached the lounge and were waved through towards a couple of cosy chairs, with a table in front of them on which a few business magazines were fanned out.

‘Have you? Alexa looked at him suspiciously. ‘What?’

Theo laughed and crossed his legs. ‘When are you going to stop fighting me? I’ve never met anyone with more of an appetite for arguing.’

‘As I’ve told you before—you’re the only one I argue with.’

‘Sign of a vibrant, lively relationship...’

‘It’s a sign of two people who don’t get along,’ Alexa corrected him. ‘Which is probably why you’ve never argued with any of the women you’ve been out with. And I’m sure they’ve all been vibrant, lively relationships!’

Theo cocked his head to one side and appeared to give her statement a great deal of serious thought.

‘Yes,’ he agreed eventually, ‘I suppose there’s been a certain amount of liveliness in the women I’ve dated...’

‘And no arguments,’ Alexa persisted, drawn to prolong the conversation and prove a point. ‘I can’t imagine any of your supermodels arguing with you.’

‘It’s true.’ Theo threw his hand up in a gesture that implied rueful but graceful defeat. ‘I don’t like argumentative women.’

‘So it’s a good thing that we don’t have to like one another, isn’t it?’

She had felt just the merest flash of hurt—because who enjoyed being told that they weren’t liked? Especially when his job of pretending that he did indeed like and fancy her was so polished and so convincing. And especially when she had grudgingly been forced to concede that she had become just another member of the long list of women who found him physically compelling.

Who wanted to fancy a guy who didn’t even like them?

Theo didn’t bother to get involved further in a conversation he knew wouldn’t end up going anywhere, because he was pretty sure that when it came to arguments there was a mighty one brewing like a storm just over the horizon.

It would certainly pay to broach that thorny subject as soon as possible and get it out of the way. Give her the duration of the flight to assimilate and accept.

He grunted something that might have been anything when it came to a response and Alexa banked down a sigh of frustration.

‘What is it that you’ve brought me?’ she reminded him briskly.

‘I’ll show you when we’re on the plane,’ Theo said, because there could be no available exit door when they were twenty thousand miles up in the air. ‘Your bag looks heavy. What have you got in it? Heavy club for beating me over the head?’

‘I’m glad you think this is funny,’ Alexa told him coldly.

Theo’s lips thinned. ‘Lighten up, Alexa. Do you take everything in life so seriously?’

‘This isn’t just any little thing.’

‘As I’ve said to you on a number of occasions, it’s inevitable—so why don’t you just kick back? Or is that something you don’t quite know how to do?’

He watched the slow colour crawl into her face. Hard-working, diligent, involved in the caring profession, pointedly making sure to avoid things she considered frivolous... In her own way, it was a statement of rebellion against her privileged background. She had bucked the tide of every other woman in her social circle, who would have settled into a life of pampered predictability and been married by the age of twenty-one to someone not very different from themselves.

The people he had met where she volunteered her services were all very nice indeed, but none of them had struck him as a bundle of fun.

So did she ever kick back?

‘I kick back.’ Alexa heard defiance in her voice.

‘Who with? I haven’t met the people you used to work with...what were they like?’

‘Lots of fun,’ she told him edgily. ‘But you’d probably think they were dull as dishwater.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they’re not the sort of people who think that “fun” is all about nightclubs and being in the public eye.’

‘And have you? Ever?’

‘Have I ever what?’

They were having a perfectly normal conversation, but Alexa still felt as though she was trying to find a foothold on thin ice. Maybe because when she was in his company, try as she might, she never seemed to feel normal.

‘Thought nightclubs and being in the public eye are fun? Scrap the being in the public eye. No one in their right mind considers that fun.’

Although, if he were to be honest, most of the women he had dated in the past had basked in the glare of paparazzi flashbulbs.

‘I’m not a nightclub type of person,’ Alexa muttered, wondering how the conversation had managed to get here. ‘When I meet up with friends we all prefer to go to places where we can actually hear ourselves think.’

Theo had a vision of a group of earnest individuals, solving the problems of the world over cups of espresso. She was positively the last sort of person he would ever have been drawn to normally. Frankly, he had little use for people who solved the world’s problems over cups of coffee. If the problem was too big to solve, then why waste time talking about it? And if it was solvable then why not just get out there and solve it? Cut out the middle man, which came in the form of pointless discussion.

On the other hand he had watched her in that shelter place of hers—had seen her interaction with the people there and for a fleeting instant had actually caught himself thinking of the supermodels who had graced his arm in the past with a certain amount of distaste.

‘And those friends would be your colleagues at work?’

‘I’ve kept in touch with a couple of school friends,’ she admitted. Both were married, and one was the proud mother of a baby boy. ‘Why are we talking about this anyway?’

She heard the announcement of their flight over the Tannoy. Travelling first class, she knew they would be the last to board the plane, and sure enough, after a brisk ten-minute walk, they were taking their very comfortable seats in the first class section.

‘Books,’ she said, and Theo shot her a quizzical look as he made himself comfortable.

Flutes of champagne were brought to them and he sipped the drink while he continued to look at her, waiting for an explanation.

‘You asked me what I had in my bag. Books. So that I have something to do on the flight over.’

Theo smiled slowly at her and wondered whether her definition of kicking back might involve having some fun on a long-haul flight...

He’d done that once—a long time ago—and had since come to the conclusion that planes were inappropriate when it came to certain activities for a man as big as he was.

Although private planes certainly redefined the options...

His thoughts veered off and he held her gaze steadily. ‘Books...?’ he murmured. ‘Let me guess... Non-fiction for the serious reader?’

‘Wrong,’ Alexa told him triumphantly. ‘Romance and crime! Holiday reading...’

‘So you’re thinking of this as a holiday?’ He was quick to pick up her stray remark, although he didn’t add to that as their champagne was gathered up by a flight attendant and then, mere seconds later, the plane began its ascent. ‘Excellent,’ he continued heartily, once they were airborne. ‘Big improvement on your lack of enthusiasm! A holiday spirit is just the thing.’

It wouldn’t last, but he enjoyed watching the way she blushed at the slightest provocation.

He was almost tempted to swing the conversation back to her mission to read books so that he could ask her whether she had ever done anything more adventurous on a plane...with a man...

She might explode with embarrassment.

‘I won’t be working.’ Alexa rushed into hasty explanation. ‘So while I wouldn’t call it a holiday in the strict sense of the word...’

‘Too much detail, Alexa. Let’s stick to the holiday spirit theme. But before you dive into one of your books...’ Theo sighed and allowed a telling silence to gather momentum until she chewed her lip with sudden anxiety.

‘What?’

‘There’s been a slight change of plan...’

Sudden scenarios flashed through Alexa’s head in Technicolor glory. Change of plan? But they were still en route to New York...

But what if New York for a few days was going to expand into other cities across the globe for an indefinite period of time?

What if her one small suitcase with a few essentials ended up being five large trunks to cater for a change of plan...?

What if he was going to surprise her with an impromptu wedding so that the baying nosy press could be satisfied?

What if...? What if...? What if...?

The single certainty she had was that she knew she wasn’t going to like his change of plan.

He was looking at her with the expression of someone who truly regretted having to say what they were about to say—except Theo De Angelis was immune to any feelings of true regret about anything. Of that she was very sure.

‘The hotel we were booked into...’

Alexa exhaled a sigh of silent relief, because hotels could always be changed at the last minute—especially when money was no object. And maybe there wouldn’t be a penthouse suite available. In which case they would end up sleeping in separate rooms on separate floors. Fingers crossed...

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she told him kindly. ‘It’s a great hotel, but there are loads of other hotels in Manhattan if for some reason they’ve double-booked the suite...’

‘Double-booked the suite?’ Theo laughed shortly. ‘Colin Clark wouldn’t dare do anything of the sort. I’m a frequent enough guest for him to know which side his bread is buttered. Not only have I used that suite on a number of occasions, I have frequently rented it for members of my staff and have held several conferences at the hotel. No... I’m a valued and cherished customer—as I’ve been told in the past. And as a valued and cherished customer, I know that suite will always be available for my use.’

‘Then what’s the change of plan?’

‘Brace yourself...’

They were briefly interrupted by yet more drinks, and a menu which Alexa didn’t even look at.

‘My brother is going to be in that part of the world...’

‘Your brother? Daniel?’

‘Special detour before he buys his toy,’ Theo informed her drily. ‘So that he can meet the radiant bride-to-be...’

‘But he knows that— Well, there won’t be any need for us to pretend around him, will there?’

Alexa had banked on exploring the art galleries on her own during the day and getting through the evenings as best she could. The pressure to be loved-up would not be nearly so intense as it had been at home, because who in New York really cared?

With Theo’s brother on the scene she would have to resign herself to a little more than mere polite conversation with people she had no intention of ever seeing again. But no matter. In truth, she was curious about his brother—curious to see whether it really was possible for two alpha males to be brothers...

She shrugged and rested back, half closing her eyes. Strangely, she could still see Theo’s lean, dynamic face, even though her eyes were closed.

His image was imprinted on her retina with the force of a branding iron. No good fighting it. Sooner or later, once she became accustomed to the inconvenience of fancying the man, indifference would begin to trickle in, and before she knew it she would be able to look at him without a flicker of emotion. He would be just someone she’d happened to share space with for a short period of time—much to her mother’s joy and delight.

‘Will he be working with you?’

‘Oh, no...’ Theo drawled. ‘My brother is as successful as I am, but his area of expertise is not mine.’

Alexa turned and looked at him. ‘You mean you wouldn’t think about buying a cruise ship as a toy?’

Theo grinned. ‘I’m more of a financial guy,’ he said. ‘I enjoy numbers. Daniel likes the leisure side of things. If he weren’t such a successful businessman in the leisure industry there’s a strong possibility he would be a beach bum somewhere hot.’

Alexa heard the warmth in Theo’s voice and realised that he was in exactly the same position as she was. A devoted child from a close-knit family, willing to make a ridiculously huge sacrifice for the sake of a parent or, in her case, parents.

It had been so much easier to pigeonhole him as a one-dimensional cardboard cut-out, and she was shaken at the tangent her thoughts had taken.

‘So he’ll be there? No big deal.’ She closed her eyes once more and tried to block out the silent fizz of electricity radiating from his body.

‘Indeed. He will be staying for a matter of just one night, but not, it would only be fair to tell you, at the hotel...’

‘That’s a shame.’ Alexa couldn’t stop herself from being just a tiny bit sarcastic. ‘You’d think that as you’re a valued and cherished customer, they would be able to rustle up a room for your brother.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they would—if I asked...’

Eyes still closed, Alexa allowed herself a smug little smile. ‘But you’d rather he stayed somewhere else? I guess, however close you might be to a sibling, there’s still always a part of you that doesn’t want them in your pocket...’

‘Not really where I was going with this conversation,’ Theo murmured. ‘And, before we get lost in a series of misunderstandings, you should know that Daniel will be staying exactly where we will be staying. It just isn’t going to be at the hotel, as originally planned...’

Alexa’s eyes flew open and she sat up and looked at him. ‘Okay... So...?’

‘So we’ll be going to The Hamptons instead,’ Theo told her bluntly. ‘Bob, a mutual friend of ours, has something of a mansion there, and I’ve been persuaded to take him up on his offer to accommodate us...’

‘What? Why? When did this happen?’

Theo waved his hand in a soothing manner and she only just resisted slapping it away.

Her thoughts were swirling all over the place. None of them were comfortable or pleasant. What was going to happen to her time out, browsing the art galleries, if she was closeted in a house out in The Hamptons? What was going to happen to the peace and quiet she knew she would need just to deal with the wretched man every evening?

She felt physically sick at the unfolding and newly altered scenario.

‘Got the call last night. Arrangements were sprung on me. What can a guy do?’

‘A guy could have picked up the telephone and called to let me know of the change of plan!’ Alexa snapped.

‘And risk you bailing on me? No chance. It would have looked very suspect indeed if my beloved fiancée couldn’t be bothered to meet her potential brother-in-law, her fiancé’s best friend and three top clients who will all be adjusting their schedules for flying visits to the Hamptons to sort out the deal I’m going across to nail...’

‘You’ve told all of them that we’re engaged...?’

‘It would have been peculiar to keep such momentous news to myself—and besides, who knows how far the news has already travelled? You would be surprised how small a world it is, with the internet and Facebook. It would have been downright discourteous for news of my engagement to reach their ears via a third party.’

‘I don’t have Facebook,’ Alexa muttered, feeling well and truly trapped.

‘Nor do I. But you can bet that we’re in a minority... Bob’s wife, Felicity, almost certainly is on Facebook—to keep in touch with their daughter in Australia.’

‘What am I going to do with myself all day for days on end in a house with people I’ve never met in my life before?’ Alexa was on the verge of undignified sobbing. ‘It’s just not fair that you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me until we were in the air...’

‘It will be fine,’ Theo said. ‘Although you might have to adjust your wardrobe a little bit...’

‘Meaning...?’

‘Those smart outfits might not be appropriate for a house visit.’

‘I just can’t believe you’ve done this to me.’

‘Let’s move on from that. It will be hot in The Hamptons. Outdoor eating is probably going to be the order of the day. Formal long dresses won’t work. There’s also a swimming pool, and I’m guessing that you didn’t pack any swimwear...’

In actual fact Alexa had packed a bikini. There was a rooftop pool at the hotel, and she had intended to make use of it during the day when she wasn’t out and about busying herself. She hadn’t banked on parading in it in front of Theo, and she certainly, even in her wildest nightmares, hadn’t envisaged staying at a private house, where she would be expected to hang around a pool with the rest of the guests in nothing but a sheer sarong and the bikini.

‘Before we head to Bob’s place we can fit in a whirlwind shop in Manhattan...’

‘We...?’

‘I can’t say that shopping with a woman is something I ever do, but I’m willing to make an exception...’

‘That’s very considerate of you, Theo, but I’ll manage just fine with what I’ve brought with me.’

Thank heavens for the two big books. She anticipated doing a lot of reading. Although she wouldn’t be able to hide away—not when there would be other people around whose mission it was to entertain the newly engaged couple.

‘I think I’m going to get some sleep now.’ She pointedly turned away and nestled herself into a suitably dormant position, although her mind was still all over the place.

She didn’t want to think about it. What was the point?

‘Don’t wake me for food,’ she muttered, turning her head, and Theo, who had already extracted his laptop from his case, grinned at her.

‘Are you sulking?’

‘I don’t like plane food.’

‘It will be far more relaxing at a house...away from the noise and chaos of the city...’

Alexa didn’t bother to answer, because she just knew that he was having a laugh at her expense. Instead she snatched the airline blanket and covered herself as much as she could without ducking under it completely.

Relaxing? How much ‘relaxing’ did a mouse do in a lion’s den?

But she was far more tired than she had thought. She had had a sleepless night... The low thrum of the plane’s engine, the dimming of the cabin lights...

She fell asleep for the duration of the seven-hour flight and was pleasantly surprised to be shaken awake when the sign flashed on for seat belts to be fastened.

Her mouth was dry, her hair had rebelled against its restraining braid and was a tousled mess, and she knew that her skin would look as rumpled as the rest of her did.

Too bad.

‘Somehow,’ Theo greeted her as she struggled into an upright position and stifled a yawn, ‘we got lost in conversation about our change of plan and I forgot to give you my little present...’

The man looked unfairly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Had he worked solidly for the entire flight? Alexa hoped that she hadn’t flopped against him accidentally, or snored or dribbled, and she hastily undid her plait and sifted her fingers through her hair in an attempt to get it looking a little less like a bird’s nest.

‘I’m not sure I can deal with any more surprises,’ she told him truthfully.

Her nostrils flared as she breathed in his woody aftershave, and when she glanced down she was momentarily mesmerised by the dark sprinkling of hair on his forearm. She could see the strength of muscle and sinew when he flexed his fingers, and she wondered...

Appalled, she tore her eyes away to find him holding a box out to her. He flipped open the lid and there, nestled in a bed of dark blue velvet, was an engagement ring. Not the engagement ring, which was currently being altered, but a smaller version.

Alexa had privately thought the original one was a bit on the gaudy side, but she loved the tiny diamond twinkling up at her from this one.

He didn’t give her time to protest. Instead he simply stuck the ring on her finger and then looked at it with satisfaction. ‘That will do,’ he said, holding her finger between his and examining it.

‘What on earth is this for?’

‘Something to wear until the one you chose at the jeweller’s is returned.’

‘Why do I have to wear something in the meanwhile?’ She furtively looked at her finger. It was weird, but this much smaller, less conspicuous ring actually made her feel more engaged.

‘Humour me. I’m a traditionalist. I like the world knowing that you’re my woman...’

Their eyes tangled and he smiled slowly.

Laughing at her again! Yet Alexa couldn’t halt the liquid heat pooling between her legs or the tight pinch of her nipples scraping against her lacy bra. She couldn’t ignore the effect that low, husky, amused voice had on her weak, weak body.

Her breath caught in her throat and she turned away quickly, hoping that those shrewd, knowing eyes wouldn’t gauge her spontaneous reaction.

Thankfully, the plane was descending. She would focus on that, and on checking her bag—which she hadn’t opened at all, so there was absolutely no point in making sure that everything was correct and present. But it was a distraction.

They weren’t going to be driven to the Hamptons. Instead they would be whooshed there by helicopter, because Bob had extensive gardens—big enough for several helicopters to land and take off, it would seem.

Theo told her all this as they were whisked through Immigration and on to where they could collect their bags.

‘I really was looking forward to going to all the art galleries,’ Alexa returned wistfully as they were transported like royalty to where the helicopter was waiting for them.

It was hot and sunny and a perfect day for sightseeing.

‘Something can be arranged, I’m sure, if you’re really desperate. Felicity would probably love to accompany you. If my memory serves me right, she’s into that sort of thing... I shall be preoccupied during the day, at any rate...’

Alexa shuddered at the prospect of trekking down to Manhattan in the company of someone else. Strolling through art galleries had always been a pleasurable thing to do on her own—a time for quiet reflection and a bit of peace and quiet.

‘How many people are going to be there?’ she asked, gazing idly around her as the stretch limo removed them from the main airport,

‘A handful.’ His phone buzzed and he picked up the call and remained talking, only cutting short his conversation when their helicopter was within sight.

‘Work,’ he said crisply.

‘Is that all you ever think about?’ Alexa asked, eyeing the helicopter with trepidation. She had been on a helicopter twice in her life and had hated both experiences.

‘Not all...’

There was a small, knowing smile on his lips and she shook her head with exasperation.

‘Work and flings, then...’

Theo burst out laughing and made a big show of stepping back and helping her into the helicopter. He exchanged a few pleasantries with their pilot and then turned to her, the smile still lingering on his lips.

‘Don’t knock a good fling. Flings can be very satisfying—as I’m sure you’ve discovered for yourself, considering you’ve never married...’

‘I can’t see anything satisfying in meaningless sex!’ Alexa had to half shout as the scream of the rotor blades threatened to drown out conversation.

‘I prefer to call it no strings sex. And what about fun?’ Theo prompted. ‘Or is that something you disapprove of? Along with kicking back?’

‘I just think it must get very boring after a while,’ she bristled.

‘In which case your “meaningless sex” can’t have been very exciting.’

Alexa ignored that. Did he think that she spent her time hopping in and out of bed with random men? Hadn’t he seen for himself that she wasn’t like that? She didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted at his one-track mind, but she did know that it was hardly surprising, because he was simply judging her according to his own standards.

He had no problem disengaging his emotions from the act of sexual intercourse. For him it was no more meaningful than a physical workout at the gym. And his relationships, if they could be called that, probably didn’t last much longer.

Thankfully, she had never been like that—which was some consolation considering she fancied the man.

At least she knew where her priorities were, and would never allow the physical to take over.

She didn’t reply to his provocative statement. Instead she stared down at the wispy clouds and thought that in a week’s time all of this would be over—and thank goodness for that.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ALEXA HAD NO time to let panic get a grip because the helicopter ride was over practically before it had begun, and then it was buzzing and lowering itself down to a section of lawn which had been converted into a neat helipad.

She had no idea what to expect, but she did know that if Theo had referred to his friend’s house as ‘a mansion’, then it was going to be pretty spectacular—and it was.

She had seen there was a pool from above—a rectangle of pristine bright blue—but the view of the top of the house didn’t do justice to its splendour, which only became apparent as they were transported in something resembling a motorised golf buggy to the curving courtyard.

On either side of the drive immaculate lawns stretched towards hedgerows that had been clipped with razor-sharp precision, high enough to ensure perfect privacy. The house was fronted by a series of striking columns that threw the sprawling veranda at the front into cool shade. On the first floor a similar veranda mimicked the one below, but circled the entire house, providing a massive outdoor deck space on which she could spot clusters of shaded furniture. The top floor was more modest, sheltered by an overhanging terracotta roof, and at the four corners of the house massive chimneys advertised indoor fireplaces.

‘Huge...’ Alexa was duly impressed, even though she was accustomed to grand houses. ‘How many people live here?’

‘Four, once upon a time. Now just two, because both kids have left home. As you might gather, they’re not my contemporaries. I met them a long time ago, when my father was involved in lending Bob cash to fund his dream of building a golf and country club. The golf and country club is now one of the most frequented by top professional golfers, and he’s dabbled in a series of other successful ventures since those heady days.’

‘You must have been very young at the time.’

Theo looked down at her and grinned. ‘I challenged Bob to a game of golf and whipped him. Since then we’ve been firm friends...’

‘That’s something else you do,’ she couldn’t resist murmuring.

‘Come again?’

‘By way of relaxing... You play golf.’

‘Would you like to know which form of relaxation I prefer?’

‘No, I wouldn’t!’

‘You’re so predictable in your responses...’

Suddenly he pulled her towards him and tucked her against his body—and, sure enough, waiting in the open doorway was a small blonde woman in her fifties, her face wreathed with smiles.

‘Bob never thought you’d do it, you great big lug! But I knew that a woman would come along and sweep you off your feet! I’m Felicity, by the way, and you have to excuse my shrieking like a crazy person but we were just so darned surprised when we heard that our favourite boy in the whole wide world was finally going to settle down!’

In between speaking at rapid-fire speed and introducing herself Felicity managed to plant a friendly kiss on both their cheeks while hustling them into the house and calling out for ‘Stanley’ to take their bags up.

Alexa had no time to say any of the usual polite things about the house or about their trip or about anything at all.

‘Like it or not, you’re gonna tell all! Bob! Bob’s in the middle of one those darned conference calls!’

This to Alexa, with a woman-to-woman wink.

‘You make sure when you’ve got a ring on this guy’s finger that you ban all conference calls! And make sure he doesn’t take up golf! I’ve had to start taking lessons or else lose that lug of a husband of mine to fairways and putting greens!’

No concessions were made to the fact that they had been travelling for several hours. Felicity dragged them through the house at breakneck speed, towards a massive kitchen which was the last word in high-tech. Glossy white built-in cupboards concealed everything, and the gleaming marble countertops were bare of all but the essentials. She led them on towards some comfortable seating in a conservatory that overlooked the manicured lawns, and once they were seated offered tall glasses of homemade lemonade whilst promising them that they could ‘go freshen up’ just as soon as they’d spilled the beans.

‘I’ve got to grab you two kids before the house becomes a hotbed for dull businessmen!’ She settled comfortably into one of the chairs and peered at them with lively curiosity.

Alexa could see fine laughter lines around her eyes and mouth. This was a warm, giving woman who loved to laugh and have fun. That was apparent in the way she spoke and the way she punctuated everything she said with a little breathless laugh.

‘So, what does it feel like to be in love?’ She directed the question to Theo, but her twinkling eyes darted between both of them. She was obviously delighted at their engagement.

Next to her, Theo still had his arm around her shoulders and it took a lot of effort not to shuffle a few inches away. Now that she had faced up to her inconvenient attraction Alexa was finding it impossible to keep her body’s responses under control.

‘A refreshing change,’ he said.

Alexa kept her smile pinned to her face and tried to wax lyrical when Felicity looked at her for more of a gushy explanation. ‘Wonderful!’ she chirped. ‘We never thought in a million years that...er...when we met we would end up...well...’

‘In the throes of heady love? Is that what you were going to say, my darling?’

Felicity needed no more encouragement to launch into an impassioned speech about the wonders of love, after which she quizzed Alexa about her family, about what she did, expressing earnest approval of her volunteer work. Everything was interspersed with smug, smiling nods that said Theo had indeed found the perfect woman.

At that point Bob appeared, and there were more introductions and an excited synopsis of everything that had been said in his absence.

These were Theo’s good friends and, looking at their interaction, Alexa could see a side of him that had not been in evidence before. He was warm, thoughtful, interested...and utterly, utterly charming. He had ensured that their daughter in Australia was introduced to a social network, thanks to his brother. He had personally chaperoned their youngest daughter when she had travelled to Europe as a sixteen-year-old, making sure that the family to whom she had been sent on an exchange visit was vetted and ticked all the boxes.

She had a new picture of him, and it wasn’t the sarcastic, ruthless guy who provoked her and rubbed her up the wrong way.

‘I feel like I’ve been tossed into a cyclone,’ she said, when they finally left their hosts to prepare a barbecue for later.

Theo grinned. ‘They like you. And you’ll get used to their high-octane energy.’

Ahead of them Stanley, one of the staff, had disappeared along the corridor. The house seemed bigger on the inside than it did on the outside, and it was furnished in a beautifully airy, plantation style. The paintings on the walls were bright and eclectic, and the marble flooring on the ground floor gave way to rich, deep wood on the first floor.

She was so preoccupied with admiring the rooms they passed that she only realised that they had arrived at a bedroom when she noticed Stanley disappearing back towards the stairs, and then, as she entered, she looked around her with mounting panic.

‘It’s a bedroom,’ she said in a high voice.

Theo had strolled towards the window, and now he turned to look at her for a few seconds, before moving to quietly close the door behind them. ‘Well observed.’

‘I’m not sharing a bedroom with you.’

Had it crossed her mind that they would be put in the same room? If it had, then the thought hadn’t registered long enough to take root. She had glibly assumed that they would be housed in separate rooms... The place must have dozens of rooms, for heaven’s sake!

‘That is exactly what you’ll be doing,’ Theo told her, his voice hard.

He stood in front of her, an implacable rock, until she had no choice but to look up at him.

‘Furthermore, you’re going to compliment Felicity on the room and tell her how fantastic it is being here instead of in a boring, impersonal hotel in Manhattan. Bob and Felicity have bent over backwards to have us here and you’re going to be suitably grateful.’

‘I’m not sharing a bed with you,’ Alexa said, stubbornly holding her ground.

Just thinking about that made the hairs on her hand stand on end. She could imagine his big, muscular body rolling accidentally against hers in the middle of the night and she cringed. She didn’t care whether he fancied her or not. She didn’t care that she wasn’t his type. She cared about the fact that she would combust if they were in the same bed together.

And furthermore... Did he even sleep with anything on? He didn’t strike her as the flannel pyjamas type...

Theo eyed the chaise longue by the window. ‘Fine. In that case the chaise longue is all yours... I’m way too big for that thing.’

‘A gentleman would offer to sleep on the floor,’ Alexa gritted through pearly white teeth.

‘Considering you’ve already written me off as not being one of those, it’s fair to say that I won’t be sleeping on the floor. However, you’re more than welcome to make your bed down there if you like. Now, I’m going to have a shower.’

For a few seconds Alexa remained staring at him in sheer, angry frustration—until it dawned on her that he was beginning to take his clothes off, at which point every nerve in her body was galvanised into horrified action and she spun round to speak with her back to him.

‘Do you mind getting undressed in the bathroom?’ she hissed, and she heard his throaty chuckle in response.

‘Why? Don’t tell me that you’ve never seen a man’s naked body before?’

Alexa seethed. ‘I won’t even bother to answer that!’

Not only did he continue chuckling, he actually whistled as he disappeared into the bathroom, thankfully closing the door behind him and giving her time to unpack her clothes at the speed of light.

He emerged ten minutes later, a towel casually wrapped round his waist.

Alexa, about to reach for her bundle of clothing, was frozen to the spot. Background noises faded and all she could hear was the frantic thud of her heartbeat.

The man was...spectacular.

Bronzed, muscled, broad-shouldered. Not an ounce of body fat. He was utterly, utterly perfect and she could feel her skin prickle with heat. It was as if something alien and unfamiliar had invaded every nook and cranny of her body.

‘I’m going to have a bath now!’ Her voice was high-pitched and she cleared her throat. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs.’

‘Oh, I think it would far more fitting if we were to head down together. Hand in hand.’

Right now his hand was reaching to hook the edge of the towel and she fled, slamming and locking the bathroom door behind her.

She barely noticed the over-the-top luxury of the marble bathroom suite, or the little touches that had been given to make it welcoming. The fragrant pot-pourri, the fluffy white towels, the dinky soaps and shampoos...

She couldn’t concentrate on anything but the fact that Theo was in the next room...probably strolling around in his birthday suit while he decided what to wear...

She took as long a bath as was humanly possible, and then dressed and applied her make-up in the bathroom, peering into the steamed-up mirror and finally abandoning the effort because she could barely make out her reflection. Her hair she left just as it was, long and tangled, and she finally emerged with only her shoes to put on.

He was sprawled on the bed, half naked, just his trousers on, with a book casually propped on his bare stomach. He peered at her over the top of it as she walked into the room.

‘How dare you go into my bag?’

Theo inspected the book cover and grinned. ‘Shall I tell you how it ends or will that spoil the surprise?’

‘I thought you might have got dressed!’

‘I was about to put my shirt on but this gaudy book jacket grabbed my attention. Of course I figured out who did it by page four, but I thought I’d check to confirm—and, sure enough, I was right.’

He chucked the book and it landed neatly back in her bag, which was on the ground, half open.

‘Nice outfit.’ Taking his time, he slid his legs over the side of the bed and sauntered towards the wardrobe to extract a shirt. ‘The bed’s very comfortable. Shame you won’t be experiencing it. You’ll be trying to find a comfy position on the chaise longue or on the floor...’

‘You’re... You’re...’

‘Shall we head down?’

He waited by the door for her, watching as she stepped into some sandals with little wedge heels. He didn’t think she realised just how damned sexy she looked in that strappy little sundress, with her long hair tumbling all over the place. Even her scowl couldn’t detract from the picture.

Difficult, feisty, mulish and prickly as hell. Who would have thought that sexy could come in that package?

He offered his arm and Alexa stormily hooked her hand in the crook as they descended the stairs. He was as cool as the proverbial cucumber, telling her about the history of the house and the antics of the infamous gardener who had landscaped the grounds. Admittedly it was very interesting, and she was big enough to tell him so before Bob and Felicity took over the rest of the evening.

It was relaxed, and they made charming, inquisitive and interesting hosts. Bob had hundreds of amusing anecdotes about the famous golf players he had met over the years...a golf game was arranged...the barbecue was exquisite and informal and champagne flowed. Alexa was even aware that she was laughing at one point as glasses were raised to toast the couple.

But could she relax? Not a bit of it.

Every nerve in her body was stretched to breaking point because all she could think about was that room...that bed...and Theo lying with the duvet half on, half off, possibly clothed but more likely not...

She was spent by the time the evening was at an end. She liked both their hosts, and she could see that they were thrilled at what they considered a wonderful love match. If only they knew!

‘So...’ Theo flung open the bedroom door and stood aside to let her pass, then shut it behind him and lounged against it, arms folded, a slight smile curving his mouth. ‘Did you enjoy the evening?’

The confines of the bedroom and the daunting prospect of the night ahead, not to mention all the other nights ahead, slammed into her with the force of a sledgehammer.

‘I...I really did, as a matter of fact,’ Alexa replied nervously. She remained standing by the window on the opposite side of the bedroom, with the yawning space of rug-covered floor between them. ‘I had no idea what to expect of your friends, but they’re incredibly nice and hospitable...’

And that, by association, said something about the man towering in front of her. She relaxed. She had nothing to fear in sharing a bedroom with him. He’d been nothing but decent in accepting her terms and, frankly, putting up with her moods. She’d sniped and argued and fought him every inch of the way when he hadn’t been the one who had dumped her in this situation. She had used him as a scapegoat for her own frustrations and, arrogant though the man was, he had not retaliated in kind.

‘I...er...just want to apologise...’

Theo looked at her in surprise and pushed himself away from the door to kick off his shoes. He began unbuttoning his shirt and Alexa fought to stay calm and hold on to her relaxed frame of mind.

‘Apologise for what?’

‘I haven’t been the easiest person to be around...’

‘Really?’ Theo said drily. ‘I’m glad you brought that to my attention. I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.’

‘Not that you’ve been plain sailing!’

Theo burst out laughing and Alexa reluctantly smiled.

‘Some men might find your fighting spirit a little challenging, but I admit that I’m growing to rather like it. And now that we’ve established a fragile truce I wouldn’t want to ruin it by forcing you to build your nest on the chaise longue, so I’ll take the floor.’

Alexa nodded.

Good.

But it was a super king-sized bed, and the floor was going to be an uncomfortable resting place even for a guy who probably survived on only a couple of hours sleep a night.

She escaped to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth and changed into her pyjamas. Feverishly she decided that whilst she could continue ranting and railing and behaving like a child, she could also just...trust that new side of him she had seen. He wasn’t going to make a pass at her just because they happened to be lying on the same mattress, was he? She had been superimposing her own anxieties on to him and it was foolish.

He took the bathroom after her and she pretended not to notice the fact that he was already half naked...that the button to his trousers was undone...that she could see a sliver of his underwear where the trousers dipped down over his lean hips.

In the fifteen minutes during which she heard the whoosh of water and the sounds of him getting ready she tried to get her racing heartbeat under control, and she was burrowed down under the duvet by the time the bathroom door was flung open.

She sneaked a glance and heaved a sigh of relief that he was still in his boxers.

‘Well, well, well...’ Theo strolled into the room and registered that she was in the bed but that there was no pile of linen on the floor, waiting to be turned into a sleeping area. Instead she had banked some cushions down the middle of the mattress in a neat dividing line.

Alexa flipped over and feigned a yawn of exhaustion. ‘It’s silly for either of us to sleep on the floor. The bed is huge and there’s no reason why we can’t share it like two adults.’

‘I like your definition of sharing like two adults...’ He nodded at the military march of cushions along the middle of the bed.

Reluctantly she grinned. ‘I thought it might be a good idea to have separated sides.’

‘Of course.’

Theo was amused at just how innocent that gesture was. He climbed into bed, his antennae noting the way she shifted ever so slightly away from him. She was clearly awake, but she wasn’t reading her book and she certainly wasn’t about to engage in conversation. He reached for his laptop, propped it on his lap and casually asked if it would bother her if he worked for a couple of hours. He was even more amused when she didn’t answer.

Bother her? It bothered her that he was even breathing next to her, far less working.

Her body was rigid. She would never manage to get a wink of sleep. She knew that. Nor would she be able to toss and turn. If she tossed and turned he would guess that she was awake, plus she would keep him up, and then they’d both be awake...in a bed...just the two of them...

Sleep overcame her. It had been a long and tiring day and her exhausted body at last won the battle over her hyperactive mind.

She dreamt that she was skimming over the clouds, looking down. And then, as she looked behind her, over her shoulder, Theo was advancing, getting closer and closer. Part of her wanted desperately to run away, but another, stronger part was holding her fast and liked the fact that she couldn’t move, that he would get closer and closer, and their bodies would fuse... She would be able to skim her hands over his broad chest and feel the rough surface of muscle and tendon...

The dream was so real that she could almost feel his hands on her, brushing against her thigh and then curving between her legs. She moaned softly.

Her eyes fluttered open and...she wasn’t dreaming.

For a few seconds Alexa was completely disorientated. The strategically positioned cushions had hit the floor at some point during the night, and not only had she rolled towards Theo but right now the palm of her hand was flat against his hard chest and he was as awake as she was.

And holding her against him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her limbs felt heavy and lazy and, just like in her dream, whilst a part of her desperately knew that she should pull away, another part of her felt heavy and warm and lazy, utterly incapable of doing anything but revelling in the feel of his equally warm body.

‘Shh...’ Theo murmured, as if she had spoken.

After lying in complete silence while he had tried to focus on work Alexa had eventually fallen asleep. He had known by the change in the rhythm of her breathing and, oddly enough, having her asleep next to him had made him a little jumpy.

He had managed to subdue his disobedient libido when it had reared its head and he had done that by rationalising it out of existence. He was in an unnatural and forced situation—heading down the aisle and not by choice. He was with a woman whose emotionalism was not the kind of thing he sought or appreciated in any woman—certainly not in a woman to whom he was to be married. And, physically, since when had he ever gone for small, curvy girls? That had always been his brother’s domain.

But just knowing that she was next to him in the bed had kept him awake. At one point he had seriously considered slipping out of bed and heading for a cold shower—especially when those cushions had been kicked away and, like a little mouse gravitating towards the source of warmth, she had wriggled closer and closer until she had been touching him.

‘You were moaning,’ he whispered. ‘Having a bad dream? Or a really good one?’

Alexa squeezed her eyes shut and remembered exactly how erotic that dream of hers had been. Heat was still making her want to snap her legs together.

‘I’m sorry if I woke you,’ she whispered back. ‘The cushions...’

‘Turns out that soft furnishings don’t make very successful fortifications...’ He sifted his fingers through her hair. His body was raging, his libido in full surge—a primitive response over which he had no control.

Right now, right here, Theo wanted her in a way he had never wanted any woman in his life before. This wife-to-be he had never asked for and from whom he knew he should keep a safe distance. Because if he slept with her...slept with someone who was looking for a guy who was most certainly not him...that single act of passion would make the next year even more impossibly awkward than it was already showing signs of being.

And yet...

‘Why did you feel the need to stick a row of cushions between us?’

His hand dipped to the curve of her waist. She wasn’t pulling back with a screech of maidenly outrage and more than anything else that was a massive turn-on—because it was proof that despite all her protests she wanted him. She didn’t want to want him...just as he didn’t want to want her...but their bodies were not on the same page as their intellects.

In a life that was formidably controlled this lack of self-control felt good...satisfying...addictive.

How the hell was he going to endure twelve months of wanting her and banking down his desire?

They were both adults, he reasoned. They fancied one another, and he knew from experience that it was a very short journey between fancying a woman and boredom setting in. He had no doubt that if she fancied him it was something she was fighting to ignore, which meant that the same would apply to her. If they slept together they would rid themselves of an inconvenient lust—a bit like taking the right medicine to kill a fever.

‘Did you think...?’

His voice was low and soft, and Alexa knew that it was no shock that she was finding it impossible to pull away from him when he was hypnotising her with his deep, dark, sexy drawl.

‘Did you think that if it weren’t for some scatter cushions you might have found yourself wanting to touch me?’

‘No!’

‘Liar.’ He laughed softly under his breath. ‘I’ve felt the way your body tenses up every time I’ve touched you and seen the way you slide hot little glances over at me when you don’t think I’m watching you... Except I’ve been watching you a hell of a lot more than you probably thought. In fact a lot more than I ever anticipated...because I’m feeling what you’re feeling...’

‘I never said...’ Her voice was so feeble and unconvincing that she wasn’t surprised when he laughed again.

‘Sure about that? Because there’s a foolproof way of proving whether you’re telling little porky-pies...’

He was going to kiss her—and she wasn’t going to fight it. Her body was on fire and she wanted him to touch it...she wanted to touch his...and she had never wanted to touch any guy like that—hadn’t even come close...

She’d never suspected—not for a second—that lust could trample all over her principles and turn them to mush.

She closed her eyes on a sigh, leaned into him, and Theo, trailing the most delicate of caresses along her jawbone, simultaneously slipped his finger under the baggy nightie and beneath her underwear and into her wetness to finger her.

It was shocking and unexpected, and Alexa wriggled away from the touch, reaching down to push his hand away, squirming free, but knowing that she didn’t want to create space between them—she wanted to abolish it.

She shouldn’t want this but she did. She wanted his fingers exploring her and she burned with mortification. When he slid his hand along her stomach desire held her fast, stopped her from breaking their connection. It felt like an extension of her dream, weird and surreal and somehow not really happening—at least not in a way that felt dangerous or threatening.

Her breathing quickened. She heard herself pant a desperate ‘No!’ but it felt so good. She slid her treacherous, trembling hands over his chest, yanked them away, repeated the caress, this time tracing the broad, muscled width of his shoulders.

The sexless nightie felt itchy and uncomfortable, and she wanted to squirm out of her underwear—and was immediately horrified and panicked by the impulse.

So she fancied him. And he, to her amazement, fancied her. Maybe it was the strangeness of the situation into which they had both been thrown. In fact that was probably it—because if she had bumped into him under normal circumstances, at one of those social events which she hated and which he saw as part and parcel of being who he was, then she was sure that she would never, ever, have been attracted to him. And he would have had one of those leggy, supermodel airhead types clinging to him like ivy. He wouldn’t have given her a second glance.

But here they were...

She tentatively let her hand stray to his waist, and then a bit lower, and she shivered as she felt the massive bulge of his erection pushing against the boxers. It was terrifying, and she withdrew her hand as though she’d suddenly plunged it into an open fire.

But she wanted to touch him so badly...

‘Theo...this is crazy...’

‘Is it? I don’t think so. In the whole crazy charade, this feels like the least crazy bit...’

‘I don’t do this sort of thing.’

‘You mean make love to your fiancé?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I know what you mean, my dearest wife-to-be. But do you want to...?’

‘Yes! No... Oh, I don’t know... Theo! I can’t think straight...not when you’re touching me...’

‘Not thinking straight suits me—and what does “Yes! No... I don’t know...” mean?’

‘It means I find you attractive. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

He’d never had to ask a woman if she wanted him, had never received such a grudging response, but hearing her say that put him on top of the world.

He gradually pushed up the nightie. He was as out of control as a horny teenager about to lose his virginity. Crazy. He cupped the fullness of her breast and then rubbed his thumb over her stiff nipple, over and over, until she was moaning and moving restlessly against him.

‘We shouldn’t...’ In the grip of the sensations that were bombarding her on all fronts she could barely get the pathetically weak protest out.

‘Life is too short for shouldn’t...’

‘That’s easy for you to say.’

You’re experienced. You haven’t spent your life welding sex to love and waiting for them to come along at the same time. You’re relaxed and carefree about this sort of thing. Not like me.

And yet for all that she couldn’t have shifted out of his reach if she’d tried.

‘You’ve done nothing but fight me,’ he moaned softly. ‘Now I want you to tell me that you need this as much as I do...’

‘I...’

‘Say it, Alexa...’

‘I want this so much,’ she confessed shakily, thrilled at the hot urgency in his voice.

‘Good.’ His voice was thick with satisfaction.

He lowered his head, angling her body so that he could lick and kiss her neck, her shoulders. He nearly lost it completely when he felt the hitch in her breathing as he trailed kisses over her breasts, until finally he clamped his mouth over the big, pink circular disc of her nipple.

Her whole body tensed, and then relaxed into the caress. He was dimly aware of the fluttering of her fingers in his hair as he continued to draw the stiffened bud of her throbbing nipple deep into his mouth, nipping and suckling on it. He was a big man, with big hands, and the abundance of her breasts was a good fit as he cupped her other breast and massaged it.

‘Touch me,’ he commanded roughly, pulling her hand down and clasping it hard over his erection. ‘Just hold me. Tight, for God’s sake. I don’t want to spoil the party prematurely...’

He reared up as she obeyed and took a few deep breaths, fighting to recover some of his lost self-control. When his breathing finally levelled out he resumed where he had left off, this time devoting his attention to her other breast, but not until he had looked at her nakedness, feasting his eyes on the paleness of her skin and the contrasting rosy flush of her nipples.

Alexa gazed up at him through half-closed eyes. He had rid himself of his boxers and his erection was a thick, hard, pulsing rod of steel. There wasn’t a shred of self-consciousness in him as he watched her gazing at him. She was scared, thrilled, massively turned on...all at the same time.

‘Would you like to sample the fare...?’ He asked, and when she frowned in bewilderment he grinned. ‘Taste with your mouth what you’re busy tasting with your eyes...?’

He couldn’t understand her... She was enthusiastic, turned on, and yet curiously shy and hesitant. But, then again, the women he slept with were all so experienced that perhaps he had forgotten what it was like to be with one who didn’t see sex as an exercise in impressing him with gymnastics. He liked it. He knew that.

‘I... I’m not... I don’t... This is all so far out of my comfort zone...’

‘Then I’ll let you set the pace...’

He was moved by the nervousness in her voice. She wanted him, but she wasn’t going to jump on him, and he got that. She needed to be treated like a delicate piece of porcelain china. He needed to let her have control. And that turned him on.

She covered him with tentative little kisses. She clearly liked him to touch her breasts and he did. But he wanted her to hold his erection, and after a while, after she had trailed delicate little kisses over his stomach—kisses that were driving him mad, had she but known it—she garnered the courage to take those delicate little kisses lower down.

She whimpered softly, and those little whimpers were a turn-on beyond belief. To a man with a fairly jaded palette when it came to the opposite sex and their bedroom antics, this was uniquely refreshing. She was shy. He wanted her to feel comfortable with his body, comfortable to touch him wherever she wanted, but the way she took her time...agony. He could barely breathe.

To Alexa, witnessing this big, utterly confident and controlled man lose it a little was as heady as a dose of adrenaline shot straight into her system.

Her faltering self-confidence strengthened into a growing sense of liberation. A guy who was restless and impatient, who took what he wanted whatever the cost—a guy for whom tomorrow was not a word in his vocabulary if it could be replaced by today—was letting her take charge, and that felt so good to her.

She straightened and looked down at him. She’d never been naked in front of a man in her life before, and her skin tingled and burned as he gazed at her with open, unashamed desire.

When he reached forward to graze his thumbs across her stiff nipples she moaned softly and closed her eyes. Her whole body was trembling.

She wanted more than this. She wanted him inside her, moving inside her, filling her up...

She guided his hand between her legs and even as she did so was shocked at her forwardness. When he began massaging her there she covered his hand with hers, groaned as he slid two fingers inside, unerringly finding her clitoris and sending her into spiralling, ever-increasing zones of sexual pleasure.

She felt like a rag doll. As her pleasure grew...and grew...and grew...she opened dazed eyes and levelled them at him.

‘I want more, Theo.’ She barely recognised her own voice, which was husky with desire.

‘And so do I... You have no idea... But...’ He reached for his wallet on the dressing table to extract a condom. ‘Life right now,’ he murmured, catching her heated gaze and holding it, ‘is complicated enough without adding to it...’

CHAPTER EIGHT

HE DROPPED THE condom on the side table and settled over her, grazing between her legs with his erection, nudging, but not too much. And then he slid his hands under her back, arching her up towards him. Nerves mingled with wicked anticipation, and anticipation won.

She had disposed of her nightie—flung it over the side of the bed. She knew that she should be feeling timid, quailing at his frank inspection of her body, but there was open heat in his lazy gaze. No mistaking the fact that he was hot for her. She didn’t think that his heat could match her own.

‘I’m fat...’ she confessed, burning up like straw flung to a struck match.

‘Whoever told you that? Surely not your parents...?’

He didn’t normally do pillow talk, but the openness of her admission touched him. He lay down next to her and pulled her against him. He could feel the steady beating of her heart and the squash of her breasts against his chest.

A slight delay to proceedings. There was nothing uncool about that. In fact it made sense, gave his body time to adjust to its normal tempo.

‘Gosh, no.’

This intimacy felt good. Not so much sex for the sake of sex as two people in bed about to make love. She had a gut feeling that he wasn’t the kind of guy who slowed down to accommodate anyone, and that included the women he took to his bed. But he was slowing down for her. And whilst the logical part of her knew that it meant nothing, it still felt good.

Plus... Rushing into sex...

Yes, her body was on fire for him, but her mind was tentative, filled with her own shortcomings and what he might say about them. If he’d made some great big show of trying to get her into bed she might have stood a chance at resistance, but like this...in the dead of night...here in this bed...she was powerless to fight her body’s urgings.

Talking like this might relax her...

‘The opposite.’ She traced the outline of his shoulders, liking its tough ridges and contours. ‘My parents always told me that I was beautiful and that I could do anything I wanted.’ She laughed a little breathlessly, because confiding wasn’t something she was accustomed to doing. She marvelled that she was doing it now, with this man. ‘Of course most parents say that, and I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew I wasn’t beautiful.’

‘And you knew that because...? You had a magic mirror on your wall...?’

Alexa laughed, but there was a telling catch in her laughter and Theo experienced a moment of disorientation during which he felt weirdly tender and possessive towards this prickly, argumentative woman who had given him nothing but a hard time ever since their paths had crossed.

‘I overheard a conversation when I was eleven,’ she confessed. ‘I was in a toilet cubicle at school and I overheard some of my friends giggling about me. I’d never thought I was fat but it seems that I was...and I had also developed way ahead of everyone else. That’s a big deal when you’re a kid. Whilst all the girls in my year were busy shooting up like beanpoles I was getting...well...a figure... It seems I was something of a figure of fun...especially to boys...’

‘Boys that age can be idiots,’ Theo told her fiercely. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and held her against him, her face pressed against his neck. ‘In fact...’ he angled her so that he could look down at her seriously ‘...quite a few idiot boys grow up into idiot men.’

Was that her opinion of him? A guy who judged by appearances only?

He sensed that that was just the sort of introspective question that might not benefit from too much in-depth analysis. Her whole persona now made sense to him. Her defensiveness...her passionate interest in the intellectual as opposed to the physical...her mulish aversion to the sort of high society affairs where she might feel herself judged, yet again, on appearance instead of personality.

The fact that she was here now, playing at a relationship with the sort of man she had probably spent her entire adult life erecting walls to keep out, spoke volumes about her close relationship with her parents.

‘I suppose...’ She laughed a little self-consciously. ‘Thanks for listening...’

Theo was highly offended. ‘Of course I listened to you! Why wouldn’t I?’

‘Because you don’t listen a lot when women moan and whine?’ she suggested teasingly.

Theo had the grace to flush. ‘Maybe that whining and moaning always had a certain predictable flavour...’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re having a conversation,’ Theo heard himself say.

Alexa nestled against him, nerves temporarily banished. ‘Isn’t that what you told me we had to do, considering we’re about to tie the knot?’

‘I don’t do a lot of that either,’ he admitted with a wry smile.

‘Talking in bed with a woman?’

Theo thought that it might have been more accurate to say talking, and leave it at that, but of course he did talk to women... Regrettably, the conversations were not usually of an inspiring nature and, having never—not once—thought about that, he now wondered whether he had set his standards a little on the low side in the past. At least insofar as intellectual stimulation was concerned.

‘There always seem to be far more exciting things to do than chit-chat...’ He shoved aside the niggling moment of introspection and returned to the business of making love—his comfort zone.

He curved his hand along her side, smoothing it over her rounded hip and confidently inserting it between her legs, parting them and laughing under his breath at her little pant of anticipation.

This was definitely more like it.

‘Now it’s time for you to lie back and think of England...’

‘Is that an order?’

‘Of course it is. Haven’t we already established that I’m the arrogant sort, who gives orders and expects them to be obeyed...?’

Alexa giggled breathlessly and closed her eyes—although she knew the last thing she would be doing was thinking of England...

He explored her body and took his time doing it, suckling on her swollen nipples, arching her body up so that he could enjoy them all the more. The longer he spent there, the more she frantically wanted him to go further, and her whole body was tingling as he made his way down, inch by inch, until his mouth found the dampness between his legs.

Alexa gave a little yelp and tried to wriggle away, but Theo pinned her down by her hips and glanced up at her.

‘What’s the problem?’

‘There’s something you should know...’

She had debated whether to say anything or not. Could a man tell the difference between a virgin and a woman who was not? Alexa didn’t know, but she knew that she would reveal the full extent of her inexperience the very second he started getting too intimate.

As he had just been doing.

‘Hasn’t anyone been intimate with you like that?’ Theo was tickled pink by that. ‘Shh... Time for me to show you what you’ve been missing...’

He didn’t want her to think about this. He just wanted her to enjoy. He gently parted her legs and felt her tense. He licked the inside of her thigh and she relaxed with a soft moan, and then, so slowly, he began to explore her.

She tasted of musk and honey, fragrant and seductive. He licked her, and then darted his questing tongue, touching the protruding nub of her clitoris. After gently smoothing her thighs he parted the lips concealing her womanhood with his fingers, so that her sensitive clitoris was even more exposed to the erotic dance of his tongue.

Alexa groaned. She could barely breathe, the pleasure was so intense.

She shielded her face with her arm and twisted away. She was so wet down there...melting like candle wax.

The pleasure became more and more intense, spiralling until she was hurtling towards the edge, and only then did Theo slowly ease his rhythm, leaving her begging for more, pleading with him to bring her to orgasm.

By which time he was so shockingly turned on that he could barely steady his hands to apply the condom. More than anything else, he wanted to come inside her, to feel her wet tightness wrap around his erection...

Alexa stayed him with one trembling hand and gulped. ‘There’s something I should tell you...’

‘Alexa... Not now... I want you so much I’m not sure I’m going to be able to withstand another conversation—not unless we pause for an intermission and I have a cold shower...’

‘It’s...it’s something you really need to know, Theo,’ she said with wrenching urgency.

Theo stilled and gazed down at her flushed cheeks. He couldn’t imagine what she might have to say that couldn’t keep. She was as turned on as he was and he could barely think straight. Add to that the fact that he was highly experienced and you didn’t need to join too many dots to work out how explosive her effect on him was.

Was she about to tell him that she was involved with someone else? It was a question he had asked of her before and she had given a negative response—but that might have been a diplomatic denial, intended to halt a sticky conversation.

With a jolt of surprise he realised that he had already formed assumptions about her, and one of them was that he believed she was genuine—and that annoyed him, because he was cynical when it came to members of the opposite sex.

‘If you’re going to break my heart by telling me you’ve got the hots for another man, then it’s a conversation I have no interest in having.’

He lay back and felt her nestle against him, propping herself up against his chest. Her long hair hung on either side of her heart-shaped face, a jumble of curls.

‘What are you talking about?’ Alexa was genuinely puzzled. ‘If I had the hots for someone else why would I be...? Well...’

Theo dealt her a slashing grin, relieved at the earnestness in her voice. He curled his fingers into her hair and tugged her down to kiss him.

‘Then what...?’ he murmured huskily. ‘Spill the beans...’

‘I’ve... I’m probably not as experienced as you think I am...’

‘What are you telling me?’

‘I’ve never...never done this before...’ Alexa said bluntly, holding her breath for his appalled reaction.

‘You’re a virgin?’

‘And you’re shocked.’ She miserably filled in the blanks.

Shocked? No. Surprised? Yes. In his experience virgins in their twenties were about as common as sightings of the dodo. But he was also massively turned on at her admission.

He flipped her over so that he was looking down at her. His woman. He should have been turned off, but he wasn’t. The opposite.

‘I’ll take my time,’ he murmured. ‘And by the time I’m ready to enter you, Alexa, you’ll be so wet and ready for me...’

Words failed him.

Who needed words? He was going to give her an experience that would live with her for ever.

He explored her body all over again. He nuzzled and licked her nipples until they were warm and throbbing in his mouth. He trailed languorous kisses along her stomach and as he did so slowly rubbed her clitoris with his fingers, readying her for his mouth.

Alexa raised her legs, squirming as he nuzzled between her legs. Just watching his dark head there was the most erotic thing she could ever have imagined. True to his word, he took his time, and she knew, inexperienced as she was, that it would require a lot of willpower for him to do so.

‘I don’t want to...to come like this...’ she gasped, as her body began sweeping her towards the edge.

Theo looked up from where he had been busy and shot her a lazy smile. ‘You won’t...’

He’d also promised to be gentle, and he was. He nudged his way into her and she felt herself open up for him, and when he began to thrust into her she was crying out for him, her hands curling into his hair, her body arching up so that he could take her completely. Any fleeting discomfort was quickly overwhelmed by a surge of want and she came with soaring intensity. It was an out-of-body experience that left her shaking.

She didn’t want to let him go. She wanted to cling, to feel his perspiring body pressed up against her. She felt him as he came, shuddering inside her on a broken groan of satisfaction. There were no barriers between them in that moment of total surrender and she wished that she could hang on to the moment for ever.

When he reared up to discard the condom, she missed him.

‘Did the earth move for you?’ Theo teased, settling down next to her and pulling her into position so that they were both on their sides, bodies pressed close together. He could have done it all again, but he would have to exercise restraint even though her nakedness was continuing to drive him crazy.

Alexa lowered her eyes, because the feeling of sudden tenderness confused her. He’d stopped being a cardboard cut-out, and that was worrying, but she felt helpless to do anything about it. She couldn’t seem to recover her anger at the situation she was in.

‘So, no men before me?’ Theo mused. ‘Tell me why...’

Alexa shrugged.

‘You’re not going to get away with that. Didn’t you have boyfriends at university?’

‘Honestly...?’ she mused pensively. ‘Like I said, I wasn’t all that confident about the way I looked. I have an old-fashioned figure...’

‘Hourglass. It’s a shape that never goes out of style.’

Alexa laughed, liking the compliment even if it wasn’t true. ‘I guess I watched what my peer group was getting up to from the age of fifteen and knew that I couldn’t compete, so I decided I was just going to find my own path and that was academic. I really threw myself into my degree. Yes, of course I went out—but in a group. I’d already decided that I would only give myself to someone if I was in a loving relationship that was going somewhere...’

With dismay, she heard just how that sounded and was quick to rescue him from any false misconceptions. Marriage or not, he wasn’t in this out of any genuine feelings for her and she knew that. It was the same for her!

‘I didn’t think that I could be physically attracted to a man unless I had deeper feelings for him,’ she admitted.

‘Are you telling me you don’t have deeper feelings for me?’ Theo drawled, amused. ‘Tut-tut... Any self-respecting husband-to-be might be offended by that! Don’t underestimate the power of attraction, Alexa. You’d be surprised how many good intentions get trampled on when two free and consenting adults find that they can’t keep their hands off one another...and I find that I can’t keep my hands off you. In fact I’d quite like to take you again. Right now. But I won’t. I’m a big man, and you’ll be sore down there...’

‘Theo!’

She traced the outline of his shoulder blade with her finger. What happens now? she wanted to ask, but when she thought about that she knew what would happen... They’d have a lavish engagement party, they’d get married and then they’d get divorced. Why did it seem so muddled when it was actually so straightforward?

‘I think we need a little time alone to get this out of our systems...’ Theo broke through her soul-searching silence.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Neither of us signed up for this,’ he told her matter-of-factly. ‘And I’m not just talking about the arranged marriage scenario. That particular bombshell was definitely not on the radar for either of us.’ He lay back and stared up at the ceiling. ‘Neither of us expected that this attraction would jump out at us, did we? But it has, and it’s something we have to deal with.’

‘Yes...’ Alexa parroted faintly, brow furrowed.

Saying that they would deal with it somehow removed the element of emotion—turned an unfortunate situation that had taken them by surprise into one that had a solution. He was right. She knew that. But she couldn’t stifle the sudden hollowness that settled in the pit of her stomach.

Theo had paused. A virgin. She had just discovered that unbridled lust had an unstoppable momentum of its own but he wasn’t a fool. She was an incurable romantic and she had lost her virginity to him. And he was destined to marry her. The last thing he needed was for her to get in too deep with him.

He fancied her, but he was all wrong for her—in the same way that she was all wrong for him. He could never give her what she wanted. He could never give any woman the sort of love that took away the ability to think clearly and behave logically. He just didn’t have it in him.

He didn’t do emotions. He played hard, but he always played with his head. She deserved someone who was willing to give her what she wanted. That man wasn’t him, and unless they established some ground rules a year might prove a very long time indeed. For both of them.

Being married to someone who might end up expecting more than he was prepared to give would be a recipe for disaster.

‘We get this out of our system,’ he said flatly, ‘and I see no reason why we won’t have a harmonious year together.’

‘Get it “out of our system”?’

‘We can’t fight this. We will be in one another’s company all the time...’

‘What if we weren’t?’

‘Then it would run its natural course. Lust fades as fast as it comes. That’s always been my experience.’

‘And you just walk away when that happens?’

‘I’m not looking for deep emotional connections, Alexa,’ he told her gently. ‘For me, a permanent partner will be someone who is prepared to accept that my work will always come first.’ He sighed.

‘A marriage of convenience with someone who is emotionally switched off...?’

‘I wouldn’t necessarily describe it like that...’

‘Would you fancy her, or would that not matter?’

‘We’re veering off topic, here.’

‘I hear your warning.’

Her drowsy contentment was fading fast. She knew what he was telling her, but just in case she missed the message he was making sure he spelt it out in words of one syllable. Don’t confuse lust with love. He could give her lust, but love wasn’t on the table, and he was probably horrified at the possibility that he might be stuck with someone who’d fall for him.

He was telling her that his boredom threshold would be reached quickly, and that once that happened they would settle into playing the game they were destined to play, with no nasty surprises along the way.

Like unnecessary emotion.

She knew exactly what she should tell him. That this had been a one-off. One of those curiosity things... Something that she had succumbed to but which she did not want to repeat.

She opened her mouth and he smoothed his hand over her, between her thighs, and her body suddenly had other things in mind.

‘But...’ he said.

‘But what?’ She tried to inject some defiance into her voice but she heard the way she sounded—helpless and breathy.

‘We have options.’

‘What are you talking about?’

He had found the damp patch between her legs and was stroking her, finding her sensitive nub and playing with it so that she couldn’t think straight.

‘You can either retreat back into fighting with me and put this down as a one-night stand...’

Alexa flushed, because that had been her first thought. She had foolishly betrayed all her principles but maybe she could persuade herself that she had put the lapse behind her—because you didn’t have to keep repeating a mistake just because you’d made it once.

But how easy was that going to be when he could do this to her?

‘I can’t...can’t think...when you’re...’

‘Let me do the thinking for you.’

‘You’re so incredibly bossy. Do you always have to take charge?’

‘Taking charge suits me. I happen to do it very well.’

But this wasn’t a decision he wanted her to make on the back of her arousal—even though watching the dazed heat in her eyes and the hectic flush in her cheeks was immensely satisfying. He reluctantly withdrew his hand and rested it in the curve of her waist.

‘You’d like to write this off and pretend in the morning that nothing really happened.’

‘You can’t say that—’

‘I can, because I know the way you think, Alexa. You had a fairy-tale dream wedding and a dream guy all mapped out in your head, but instead here we are...’

It irritated him just to voice that, because playing second fiddle to any man—even a fictitious one—just wasn’t his thing, but there was no avoiding the truth.

‘You know what those marriage vows say...’ he drawled, carefully averting his eyes from the tempting glimpse of one pouting pink nipple peeping at him. ‘For better or for worse. Loosely interpreting them, I say we should focus on the better side of things for the moment... We fancy each other, incredible though that might be...’

‘Thanks very much, Theo.’

‘You’d be the first to agree,’ he returned wryly. ‘You were horrified to find out that you would be walking up the aisle with me.’

Alexa didn’t want to turn that flat statement back to him—didn’t want to hear that he had likewise been horrified to find himself saddled with an emotional and inexperienced girl who—horror of horrors—didn’t even have the decency to look like all his supermodel clones.

Truth hurt, and she had faced too many awkward truths recently—not least being this...her attraction to him.

‘I would have been horrified to find myself walking up the aisle with anyone who wasn’t of my own choosing.’

Theo shrugged, because one way or the other it didn’t matter.

‘I think that instead of denying what’s between us we exhaust it—after which the duration of our time together should be as plain sailing as it can be, given the circumstances.’

‘We exhaust it...?’

‘Correct.’

‘And do you have a timeline on that?’

If he got bored with all his beautiful conquests after a couple of months, then she gave herself a couple of weeks. Oddly, something inside her twisted.

‘I prefer to play things by ear—and that cuts both ways. You could be the one who gets tired of me...’

Alexa wasn’t dim enough to think that he seriously believed that for a minute, but she nodded in agreement. This wasn’t her at all, but he had cut through all the red tape and produced the bald truth of the matter, shorn of all emotion. They carried on having sex until that side of things dwindled away, at which point they would be able to function in one another’s company without that sizzle of electricity—which was something he seemed able to handle but which she had found she just couldn’t.

She couldn’t imagine ever being around him without the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end and her imagination shaking its reins and running wild. It would be like spending a year doing a high wire act without a safety net. Just thinking about it exhausted her.

He was presenting her with a choice. And why not? She couldn’t see herself wanting a man indefinitely when he basically wasn’t her type anyway. It would fizzle out. Of course it would. In the crazy, surreal world into which she had been catapulted it was the one thing that made sense.

And also...

She would be able to give herself permission to enjoy him.

She felt a guilty rush of pleasure at the thought of that.

‘I suppose it makes a weird kind of sense...’

She drew that sentence out and filled it with lots of doubt and uncertainty. She didn’t want him to feel that she was a push-over simply because she was inexperienced, or that she had become a member of his worshipful fan club. She wanted—needed him to think that it was an arrangement that suited her as much as it suited him...that he was as much a virus in her system which she wanted to dispel as she was in his.

‘I suppose we can’t help the people we’re attracted to—even though I always thought I could. I’ve been edgy around you...and not just because of the circumstances that threw us together. I haven’t liked being attracted to you, but I’m honest enough to admit that I am. Stupid, and—as you say—passing.’

Theo wasn’t sure he liked the word stupid, but he wasn’t going to get hung up on detail.

Frankly, the faster it passed, the better for him. She was unreasonably distracting and he didn’t like distraction—at least not a distraction that seemed to attack without warning and at any given time.

‘I have my guys coming tomorrow,’ he said. ‘My original plan involved a prolonged stay here, with work taking a bit of a back seat to relaxation. This...change in circumstances...requires a change of plan...’

He accompanied that with a slow, curling smile that reminded her just how dangerous a temptation he could be, so thank heavens it wasn’t going to be long-lasting.

‘How do you mean?’

‘We’ll just stay for the day. I’ll get my business done and then we’ll head to Manhattan—finish our stay there. And no adjoining rooms in a penthouse suite...’ He stroked the pink, peeping nipple and the little bud hardened under the abrasive rub of his thumb.

‘We can’t!’ Alexa gasped, responding on cue, pulses racing, her whole body slowly heating up once again and then going into meltdown as he continued to rub her nipple.

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s rude! Your friends...they’ll be disappointed...’

‘They’ll be the first to understand. They think this is a love match and they’ve been trying to brainwash me into the joys of married life for far too long... They’ll be over the moon when I tell them that we have to escape for some private time because we can’t get enough of one another... I can already hear the violins in the background...’

Little will they expect that this is just a pretend game, and that this so-called need for private time will just be about sex, Alexa thought, with the sort of cynicism she’d never thought she had.

‘And your brother’s making a big effort to come over... I was quite looking forward to meeting him, maybe going to one of the local art galleries while you were busy during the day...’

Theo burst out laughing. ‘Daniel and art don’t go hand in hand. I think it stems from the fact that an art teacher once told him when he was a kid that he would be doing the world of art a service by staying as far away from pencils and paintbrushes as he could...’

‘Whereas you...?’

‘I was smart enough to work out that if I couldn’t paint anything remotely realistic then I’d paint whatever the hell I wanted and call it abstract... It worked... I’ll message my brother—tell him to skip the meet-and-greet detour and head directly to the cruise ship he wants to buy...’

‘So we go to New York,’ Alexa said slowly, ‘spend a week there...after which we should both be over this...this...situation between us. Then we return to Italy as a happy, platonic couple and serve our one year’s penance before walking away from one another...’ She forced a bright smile to her face. ‘You’re right, of course. Enjoy one another for a few days...get this inconvenient attraction out of our system...and once that little hiccup’s dealt with we’ll be able to...to look at one another without any stupid awkwardness...’

Since that was pretty much what Theo had had in mind, he was a little unnerved to hear it stated so bluntly.

‘Enough talking...’ He tilted her head and when she arched back kissed her neck, worked his way to her breasts and then levered himself up and stared down at her flushed face. ‘Now I’m going to give you a little lesson on taking charge...’

He did.

She touched him as he had touched her. She straddled him and worked her way meticulously down his body, loving every inch of muscle and sinew under her exploring hands. She marvelled that her shyness had evaporated. Something about the way he looked at her, with a sort of lazy, lingering, heated intensity, stripped her of her inhibitions and invested her with self-confidence she’d never known she possessed.

When she took him in her mouth and heard his throaty groan a heady sense of power invaded her.

There had been moments in her adult life when she had thought about her virginity. She had never been bothered by it, but there had been a nagging worry that when the time came she would be so nervous that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the experience. Sex would have become a big thing she had built up and would fail to deliver on the night.

The only consolation in that scenario had been the certain knowledge that the guy she fell in love with would be someone kind, thoughtful and patient enough to guide her slowly.

As she felt this big, arrogant, sinfully good-looking man shudder as she continued to caress his erect sheath with her mouth and her tongue a thought flew through her head, as lightning-fast as quicksilver...

He might not be a shining advertisement for kind, thoughtful or patient, but he has been kind and thoughtful and patient with me...

The roughened feel of his thighs under her fingers as she continued to arouse him with her mouth took her own physical response to a level she could barely control, and she drew back from her lingering exploration so that she could rub herself against his erection.

Theo was having to take long, even breaths to keep his control in place. He opened his eyes and inhaled sharply as he looked at her astride him.

With one hand firmly on his erection, she flung her head back as she moved her body sensuously against him. Every shudder of pleasure was reflected in her soft moans as his hardness played against her clitoris.

Her long hair was in utter, sexy disarray and her generous breasts bounced as she moved like ripe fruit, gently shaking, too succulent to pass up.

He tugged her towards him so that those breasts were closer to his mouth, and as she knelt over him, still enjoying his erection against her, eyes still shut, breathing still coming and going in little gasps and groans, he flicked his tongue over one engorged nipple and then stilled her slightly so that he could suckle more thoroughly on it.

Hands on her slender ribcage, he carried on pleasuring himself at her breasts until neither of them could handle the build-up any longer.

They were so hot for one another—but she was still cool enough to fumble through his wallet and extract his last condom, which she took her time stretching over him.

Theo was riveted in a way he had never been with any woman by the sight of her voluptuous nakedness...the satiny smoothness of her shoulders and the soft paleness of her skin in such contrast to the perfect circular deep rose of her nipples.

His feeling of absolute possession was second to none, but he easily explained that away by the fact that she had come to him a virgin.

He was going to enjoy being her teacher, and she was showing all the signs of being an A class student...

Who knows? he thought, before his mind emptied of all thought and the primitive responses of his body took over. Maybe a week might not be quite long enough after all...

CHAPTER NINE

LYING ON THE BED, Alexa drowsily watched Theo, sitting at the desk in the hotel bedroom, wearing only his boxers, frowning at whatever he was looking at on his computer.

Their last night in Manhattan.

She couldn’t quite believe how fast the time had flown since they had left The Hamptons. As predicted, Bob and Felicity had not been at all fazed at their early departure.

‘Completely understand!’ Felicity had carolled. ‘It’s been a while—hasn’t it, Bobby?—but I can still remember what it was like to be young and in love...!’

Alexa had had to inwardly admit that she and Theo were certainly giving the impression of two people who couldn’t keep their hands off one another, and she could understand how that might have led to the misconception that they were in love.

How ironic that now, when there were no reporters around, furiously snapping pictures, the physical contact between herself and Theo was one hundred per cent genuine.

Every time she glanced at him her imagination took over, and she remembered what it felt like to have those hands all over her body and his mouth kissing every enthusiastic inch of her.

They had checked into the penthouse suite which had originally been booked for them—the adjoining room was now redundant—but, frankly, they could have been anywhere in the world. Any hotel in the world. Just so long as there was a bed, because they spent an inordinate amount of time making love.

For a couple of hours every day Alexa had insisted on going out on her own, so that Theo could work.

‘I can work perfectly well with you around,’ he had drawled, in the sort of dark, persuasive voice that had made her almost but not quite revise her determination not to submerge herself entirely in him. ‘In fact I find I work better, because I can touch you whenever I need a break...’

This was just the sort of heady flattery that she knew could so easily go to her head. It was the stuff she loved hearing—just as she loved hearing him tell her how desirable she was, how irresistible, how he couldn’t see the bed without wanting her in it, naked and pressed up close to him.

But flattery was all it was, and Alexa knew that she had to steer clear of reading anything else behind it. Because she was getting seriously hooked on touching him, on hearing all those softly murmured words that did wonders for her self-confidence, making her feel utterly desirable...the most desirable woman on the planet.

He’d swept into her life, bringing with him all his worldly experience, and he had used that worldly experience and his unimaginable charm to captivate her.

He had found fertile ground in her, because nothing in her past had prepared her for the impact of their involvement. Had she had some experience with the opposite sex she might have had sufficient ammunition to see his charm for what it was...practised, well-used...the same charm that had turned all those other women’s heads...

But she’d lacked the necessary experience. And now...

He was completely oblivious to the fact that she was staring at him. It was still only six fifteen in the morning, but she would have bet that he’d been up for at least an hour—maybe more. He seemed to need very little sleep to function.

She gazed at the way his dark hair curled at the nape of his neck, at the muscled width of his shoulders and the tiny mole on his right shoulder, which she could just about make out in the pool of light from the desk lamp he had switched on. He hadn’t yet shaved and there was a definite shadow along his jawline. He was frowning, and she knew that in a second he would gently tap his fountain pen on the desk—a habit he had when he was utterly focused on something.

She had asked him why he had a fountain pen when all his work was done on the computer, and he had twirled it in his fingers and told her that it had been a present from his mother when he was eleven. It was his talisman.

There were so many things she felt she now knew about him, and there were so many physical details she had absorbed too, lodging them in her brain the way information was stored on a computer, lying there, ready to be accessed at the flick of a button.

She could recognise the sound of his soft breathing when he was in deep sleep...could tell from the clipped tone of his voice on the phone when he was talking to someone he wanted to get rid of as fast as possible. She had watched him shave in front of the mirror and had come to realise that, although he must surely know just how good-looking he was, he did very little to enhance his looks. No manly moisturisers. He barely looked in a mirror at all.

Her heart began a steady, anxious thud in her chest.

When exactly had she stopped seeing him as the enemy she was shackled to and started seeing him as someone who was witty, beyond intelligent, wickedly charming...?

She knew when she had owned up to her guilty fascination—when she had acknowledged the chemistry between them. But when, exactly, had that undeniable chemistry turned into something deeper for her?

They had strolled through Manhattan, gone to the famous Museum of Modern Art, walked along the High Line and visited the gallery district. She had forgotten that this wasn’t a real-life courtship. She had forgotten that those piercing, lazy eyes that roved over her body with rampant appreciation had no intention of lingering there indefinitely.

What had started out for both of them as a perfectly reasonable way of dealing with the inconvenient attraction between them had morphed into something else—for her.

She had...

The steady, nervous thud of her heart picked up pace as the enormity and horror of her realisation hit her with the force of a runaway train.

When had she fallen in love with him?

‘You’re up. Why are you up?’

His dark drawl made her jump, because she had been so busy being dismayed and horrified at her thoughts that she had blanked him out of her line of vision. Now she sat up and feigned a yawn.

‘The light must have woken me...’ She burrowed back down into the duvet, so that she could take up where she had left off and carry on chewing over her plight—which couldn’t have been worse as far as she was concerned.

‘In that case I’ll switch it off...’

Theo stood up and stretched, and then headed back to the bed—which was just where, for once, Alexa didn’t want him. Because she still had so much thinking to do, still had to work out how she had managed to give her heart to a guy who had no intention of looking after it—not in the long term and not, if she were to be honest with herself, in the short term either.

‘No—don’t!’ She tempered the sharpness of her reply with a little laugh. ‘I know you’ve had a pretty distracted time when it comes to work, and that you get a lot done early in the morning. I’m still very sleepy anyway.’ She yawned on cue. ‘So I shall try and grab a couple more hours...’

‘Sex is very good for guaranteeing restful sleep...’ He slid into the bed alongside her and eased her to face him, so that they were both on their sides, looking at one another, perfectly level.

‘In which case you should get back to work,’ Alexa told him crisply, although her firmness was somewhat undermined by the hand that was now lying between her legs, cupping her down there and moving ever so gently. ‘You don’t want to fall asleep on the job, do you?’

Theo sighed and reluctantly removed his hand. ‘Unfortunately that’s the last thing I can afford to do,’ he conceded. ‘Several million pounds rests on my making sure I stay awake on the job—at least for the next couple of hours...’

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and strolled back towards the desk and the blinking of his computer. When he glanced over his shoulder it was to see that she was on her side, turned away from him, her long hair hiding her face, doubtless on her way back to sleep.

It seemed peculiar that he was going to be marrying a woman who, in the normal scheme of things, would not have excited his interest—and even more peculiar that she had not only excited his interest, but that his interest was showing no signs of petering out just yet.

He wondered what the chances were of a continuing sexual relationship for the duration of their imposed marriage, but dismissed the idea before it had taken root.

He just didn’t have it in him to ride the crest of physical attraction for longer than a couple of months, and he knew without the shadow of a doubt, that to sleep with her for any continued period of time would be a big mistake.

He had always been able to deal with broken hearts, but this was a special case. When he and Alexa parted company they would still see one another, because he would have shares in her family company and would, on occasion, be working alongside her father. Her father was a sociable man. There would be instances when he would be invited over for a meal—special occasions, some family do—and there would be instances when she would be there too.

The last thing he wanted was to find himself in the firing line for recriminations should she get more involved with him than necessary. The last thing he wanted was her broken heart. Because she wasn’t a tough, sexually experienced woman of the world and her broken heart might not mend quite so easily.

He heard her soft, even breathing and frowned, because thinking of her suffering did something to him.

Which, he concluded, was all the more reason to make sure what they had ended before it could become a problem. No big deal for him, but he might have to gently guide her in the same direction, just to make sure...

Alexa, her thoughts all over the place, actually fell asleep, and woke to the sound of her mobile buzzing next to her on the bedside table.

She could hear the sound of the shower in the bathroom. Predictably, the bathroom door was wide open, because Theo was anything but a shrinking violet when it came to flaunting his nudity.

It was her father, and their conversation was brief and puzzling. She waited until Theo was back in the bedroom, his hair damp and tousled and a towel hooked precariously around his waist.

‘That was my dad...’ She looked at him anxiously.

‘What did he want?’

‘He said that he has something to tell me but I’m not to worry.’ She sat up, heels tucked beneath her rear, and she chewed at her lip.

Being told not to worry was the fastest way to make sure that someone got worried—especially when it came to her father, who was the master of understatement.

Had her mother’s health scare not been quite as severe as it had been, Alexa was sure that her father would have not deemed it necessary to contact her and ask her to return to Italy sixteen months ago. She’d been protected and sheltered as a child and that was the way it remained.

‘What if something’s wrong with Mum?’ she asked in a quiet, wobbly voice.

Theo crossed over to the bed and looked at her uncertainly for a few seconds. The Alexa he had first met had changed over the brief but intense time they had spent together. Having expected a frumpy little doormat, he had been presented with a firebrand...

A feisty, outspoken, mutinous firebrand, who was also a ridiculous romantic...

Who had been a virgin...

He could sense her making a big effort not to cry, and he fought against his instinct to bracingly tell her to pull herself together.

‘He’d tell you,’ Theo informed her calmly. ‘When it comes to health, people tend to avoid beating around the bush.’

‘You don’t know my father,’ Alexa said ruefully. She suddenly realised that she wasn’t wearing anything, and she hurriedly dragged the duvet over her and slumped back against the pillows.

‘Fill me in.’

Alexa paused. This was what it meant to be in love, she thought. She could no more fight the urge to confide in him than a starving man could have fought the urge to feast at the banquet. Her head was telling her one thing—telling her to protect herself and back away—but she was drawn to him like a moth to the flame that threatened to kill it.

Being in love meant waving goodbye to common sense—to everything that had been her compass through her life.

‘He’s always hated the thought of worrying me,’ she confessed. ‘They wanted more kids, you know, but Mum had a terrible time when she was pregnant with me and was told that to risk having another would be endangering her life.’ Alexa sighed. ‘You could say that I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life. Not that I wasn’t allowed out of their sight, but I was always protected from what they considered too much information. I only found out just how bad Mum’s stroke was by cornering the consultant and demanding the details. Left to Dad, he would just have tutted and told me that everything was going to be fine. Which is why for him to call me here and say that he’s got something to tell me... Well...’

Theo sat down on the bed, and she toppled a little towards him before steadying herself. For once he was with a woman, in a bed, and sex was not uppermost in his mind.

‘I can only think that he’s readying me for something big—that it’s serious. And the only serious thing I can think of is that Mum... Well...’

Unaccustomed to soothing crying women, Theo pulled her towards him and smoothed her hair clumsily with his hand. She was crying against his chest but trying hard to stifle it, and that more than anything else touched him.

He hadn’t had to dig too deep to find the soft-as-mush girl beneath the tough, outspoken exterior. And that was something he felt he should have sensed from the very beginning.

‘So chewing over it and coming up with lots of worst-case scenarios...is that going to alter the reality?’

‘Well, no...’

‘If your mother was seriously ill your father would tell you—however much he didn’t want to worry you—and if he wouldn’t, then my father would call me and say something. You forget—they’re back in touch now. And my father, I assure you, has never been backward when it comes to being brutally honest...’

‘What do you mean?’

She was feeling better already. She liked the way he was holding her—as if she were a piece of fragile porcelain china. It felt good to be held like this, without sex being their final destination. It scared her how much she liked it...

‘That art teacher might have been a bit forthright with Daniel,’ Theo joked lightly, ‘and I may have passed the litmus test with her by painting nonsense and talking my way into an explanation, but I remember my father taking one look at one of my productions and bursting out laughing. He said that it was the biggest load of rubbish he had ever seen, and then he patted me on the shoulder and told me that if he couldn’t give me a few home truths then who could? So rest assured that he wouldn’t shy away from phoning me if there was a crisis over there...’

‘And has he?’

Theo looked at her with a frown. ‘Has he what? Phoned me? To tell me about a crisis with your family? No.’

Alexa breathed a sigh of relief—because she believed him. It was as simple as that. She would wait and see what the problem was when she returned. Hopefully it would be something to do with the wedding or the engagement party.

Which brought her back to the thoughts that had momentarily taken a back seat.

She edged away from him and shuffled out of bed. Just now, knowing what she knew about her feelings for him, she felt that a bit of distance between them would be a good idea.

‘So...’ she said, gathering herself. ‘It’s our last day...’ She was well and truly up and awake now, and the thought of trying to pretend to go back to sleep wasn’t going to work.

What happened next? she wondered.

The longer she carried on having sex with him, the more hurt she would be building up for herself. But how on earth was she going to last a year of wanting him and having to hide that want? How was she going to survive when he looked at her with polite indifference because what had started as lust for him had dwindled and disappeared?

The stakes were never going to be even between them, and just thinking about that made her head ache.

More than anything else she wished she could run away and take cover until this crazy love had blown over—except she knew that it never would.

She might no longer be able to keep her heart intact, but she felt she could try and keep her dignity intact—and to do so she would have to guard her expression and never allow him to see just how much he had finally ended up getting to her.

She wondered if this was the fate that had befallen all those women he had dated in the past. Having heard him give them his warning speech about not getting involved, had they, like her, found themselves being sucked into something that was bigger than them?

Had that been the fate of the striking blonde who had confronted him in that restaurant?

Alexa could only hope that, however hard she had fallen for him, she wouldn’t be one of those women who kept trying to grab his attention whenever they happened to bump into him—who let him think that what he had once taken from them was still on offer should he decide to pay them another visit.

She had seen the way he had looked at that blonde, with veiled contempt in his eyes—the same contempt that had been in his voice when he had talked about her.

There was no way Alexa would allow herself to become someone like that.

‘I think we should do some sightseeing,’ she said lightly. ‘I’ll just grab a shower and then we can think about heading out...maybe have breakfast at one of those bagel places by the hotel... Or we could go to Central Park... There’s still so much to see... The earlier we leave, the better, don’t you think?’

Theo inclined his head to one side, his antennae picking up invisible signals and trying to decipher them. ‘Don’t rush,’ he told her with a little shrug, ‘I’ll have to wrap up these documents. It’ll take at least half an hour...’

Alexa took longer than that, and emerged fully dressed an hour later. Theo, likewise, was in a pair of black jeans and a cream polo shirt that did amazing things for his athletic, muscular body.

She licked her lips and tried not to stare. Staring had been permissible when it had been about lust. Now that it was about love, staring was a weakness she could not afford.

Her heart was still beating fast and she frantically wondered how she could carry on sounding normal when everything inside her felt so abnormal.

She need not have worried. Theo’s charm and the breadth of his knowledge proved irresistible.

She had, of course, travelled—but not nearly as extensively as he had, and he didn’t allow her to be introspective as they had breakfast in a noisy bagel café before jumping on the subway—something she had to persuade him into doing—so that they could explore Williamsburg.

At one point he grabbed her hand and continued holding it. She knew that it was just one of those throwaway gestures of his, but also knew that would be one more thing she would store in her memory bank, to be extracted for examination at a later date.

She couldn’t resist.

And she couldn’t resist when he pulled her towards him and casually dropped a kiss on her parted lips.

She couldn’t resist the way he took it for granted that her body belonged to him. Every passing touch was like the heavy brand of possession, but if he’d known the effect he had on her he would have been quailing at the thought of their year-long pretend union.

She hoped she’d kept everything on a light level, and by the time they’d headed back to the hotel and begun packing for their trip back to Italy she even managed to ask the question that had been uppermost in her mind for the past few hours.

‘Should we discuss how we...er...move forward now...?’

About to fling the last of his clothing into his suitcase, Theo paused and stared at her. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

‘Come again?’

‘Well, the week is up,’ Alexa pointed out nervously. ‘And I know that was the time limit we both agreed for us to...er...get this thing between us out of our system...’

‘I don’t recall agreeing to any such thing,’ Theo pointed out.

She had come to him a virgin and yet now it seemed that she was keen to draw her experiences with him to a close. He clenched his jaw as it was brought home to him how little they had in common, aside from the obvious bond of their similar backgrounds, and how much, fundamentally, she still disapproved of him. He had the feeling that he’d been used, and it wasn’t a feeling that he liked.

His cell phone buzzed and a text message popped up, saying that their limo had arrived to take them to the airport.

She had certainly started a tricky conversation at the right point in time, he thought drily. Did she think that he would be too embarrassed to continue in the back of a taxi?

‘Taxi’s here,’ he said curtly.

He phoned through to Reception to ask for their bags to be taken down to the limo and then waited until they were inside the spacious car before he picked up their conversation.

‘Well...I know we didn’t exactly set a time and a date,’ Alexa said, when he lazily asked her to finish what she had started saying. ‘I mean, I do understand that it’s hard...impossible...’

‘To set a time and a date when it comes to lust?’ he interrupted smoothly. ‘You’re right. It is.’

‘But,’ she persisted valiantly, ‘I do think we need some kind of clarification here...’

‘Why?’

They did. He knew that. However, for some reason he had a perverse desire to dig his heels in. He wasn’t ready to give up what they had, and there was nothing worse than unfinished business, as far as he was concerned.

True, when it came to women that was pure conjecture, but he couldn’t see the point of self-denial and that was precisely the road she was trying to head down right now.

‘Because this marriage of ours isn’t going to be real,’ Alexa mumbled. ‘And if it’s a business arrangement—’

‘You can try.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You can try to fight this thing between us, but you won’t be getting any help from me.’

‘What—what do you mean?’ Alexa stammered.

‘I mean that I’m not ready for this to end yet. And don’t forget—we may have had a little respite from the cameras but we’re heading back into the lions’ den, and with our engagement those pesky reporters are going to be snapping away to capture the happy couple. I just want you to know that when I kiss you it won’t be for the cameras...’

‘I’d forgotten about them,’ Alexa said in dismay.

He grinned wolfishly at her. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll soon come flooding back...’

‘So in other words,’ Alexa said tightly, ‘you want this to carry on until you get tired of it?’

‘In other words, I have no intention of fighting what’s between us.’

The taxi ride was completed in silence. Typically, Alexa thought, he had said what he had to say and then, rather than continue driving his point home, had dismissed the topic by spending the ride to the airport with his laptop open, sifting through dozens of emails and ignoring her completely.

He was just so damned sure of himself—just so convinced of his own monumental appeal that he didn’t envisage her standing a chance of saying no to him.

She despaired.

Would she be able to withstand an onslaught? Even though she knew that he was not in it for more than just sex? Even though she knew that she would end up being desperately hurt? That she would turn into one of those clingy, needy women he had no time for? The sort who never forgot him and staged scenes whenever their paths chanced to cross?

All her resentment and anger, her conviction that she could never in a thousand years fall for a guy like him, now seemed like naïve stupidity. She had been able to hate the one-dimensional cardboard cut-out, but the minute the three-dimensional man had emerged she had not been able to resist.

She’d turned into just another one of his conquests, and she shivered at the prospect of those lips touching hers and her knowing that she wanted more. She was terrified of being betrayed—not just by her own weak body, but by her emotions.

Her head buzzed with so many scenarios that she was barely aware of the flight. He left her to stew. In fact she was certain that he wasn’t even aware of her presence next to him. He was utterly absorbed in his work, and sex, however compelling, played second fiddle.

Only as they were taxiing on landing, and after having fitfully dozed for part of the trip, did she find other concerns settling—and the main one was whatever it might be that her father had to say to her.

All over again she felt anxiety begin to claw at her insides. Theo had calmed her fears by telling her that if her mother’s health was involved he would have known about it. Now, Alexa could see all the flaws in that argument. Why would her father advertise something like that to his dad? It was a personal problem and he would surely want to keep it to himself. The fact that his instincts had always been to protect her from anything unpleasant meant that whatever he wanted to say must be of grave concern. It must be something he couldn’t keep from her.

‘What if something’s really wrong with Mum?’ she couldn’t help asking as they disembarked.

She hated herself for appealing to Theo for reassurance, but she had had time to contemplate the worst and she needed to hear the strong conviction in his voice. It was irritating—especially considering she should be trying to erect whatever fragile defences she still had at her disposal to protect her pathetic, foolish heart—but she needed his logical explanation. Even though she had already convinced herself that it made no sense.

‘It won’t be.’

Theo had had plenty of time on the trip to try and work out why he was in the process of breaking his own self-imposed rule never to chase any woman. She was backing away, and instead of shrugging his shoulders and moving on he was intent on pursuit. Ego and pride, he presumed. Not exactly the most endearing traits in the world, but he wasn’t going to pretend that there was anything more to it than that.

‘But you don’t know...’

Theo stared down at her flushed, earnest face and his libido kicked into gear with surprising ferocity. What was it about this woman that made him want to drag her off to the nearest empty room and take her?

He actually caught himself doing a brief mental tour of what he could recall of their route towards Immigration, trying to figure out if there were any cubbyholes he could pull her into, so that he could yank down those oh, so prim and proper trousers, taking her underwear with them, and have sex with her in the most basic way possible.

Reluctantly he gave up the idea, but this, he thought, was precisely why he would carry on his pursuit... Because to back off now, when neither of them wanted to, whatever she said to the contrary, would be like having to endure an indefinite erection without the benefit of a cold shower to get rid of it.

‘Nor do you,’ he said with a hint of impatience. ‘Now, don’t forget that we’re back in the public eye. Try not to trail behind me—and it would help if you wiped that anxious expression off your face.’

With his free hand he massaged the nape of her neck, underneath her silky hair—which Alexa knew was unnecessary because there was no one with a camera around. But he had warned her that he wasn’t going to play by her rules... He was just proving to her that he had meant what he said.

And right now, in these crowds, she was powerless to do anything about it.

Even when they were in the back of his chauffer-driven car—he had called from the airport for it to come for them—she still had an insane urge to close the gap she had studiously put between them.

Like a predator, with all the time in the world to hunt its prey, he made no move to get closer to her, contenting himself with watching her through brooding, speculative eyes that gave her goosebumps.

Finally she hissed, with one eye on the driver, although the screen, as always, was up, ‘I wish you’d stop staring at me!’

‘Why?’ Theo drawled.

‘Because I don’t like it!’

‘Liar. You like it—and so do I.’

His words floated around her like a physical caress. There was lazy intent in his eyes and she looked away hurriedly, her body turned on to screaming point. Because he was one hundred per cent right... She did like him staring at her—liked the way it made her whole body tingle, as though it had been plugged into an electric socket...

She heard herself launch into nervous chatter, babbling even while her body recalled how and where it had been touched, and fought against the seductive temptation to think about how and where it would be touched again...

She was surprised that they made it to her house with her nervous system still intact. Of course he hadn’t opened his computer once, or checked his phone at all. He’d just leaned against the door, limbs loose, his fabulous green eyes pinned to her face, fully aware that he was unsettling her and amused by it.

‘I’ll come in with you,’ Theo murmured, pressing a button and talking to the driver once the partition was lowered.

‘There’s no need,’ Alexa said hastily.

He didn’t bother to answer, instead stepping out of the car and moving round to wait for her as she followed suit.

‘There’s no need to pretend now that we’re here,’ she muttered as he neatly tucked her arm into the crook of his.

‘Oh, I know that,’ Theo murmured silkily, ‘but remember what I said to you?’

Alexa’s breath caught in her throat, because she knew that she just didn’t have the weapons for a sustained assault.

‘And remember what I said to you!’ But her voice was weak.

He actually laughed under his breath. Laughed and patted her on her arm. ‘You want me. Don’t fight it, Alexa. Enjoy it while it lasts. Now...’ his tone changed from lazy to brisk as he rang the doorbell ‘...why don’t we see what all the fuss is about with your father?’

CHAPTER TEN

NOT ONLY WAS her father waiting for her, so was her mother. And, even more ominous, so was Theo’s father. All three were hovering by the door, and she got the uneasy feeling that they had been waiting for their arrival.

Alexa automatically stepped a shade closer to Theo, who had sized up the situation and taken charge, smoothly querying their joint presence by the front door with the quirk of an eyebrow but not commenting on it, instead leading the way into the kitchen while conducting a running commentary on their trip, omitting the salacious details and focusing on filling his father in on Bob and Felicity.

They followed him like sheep.

The man was a born leader, and she could understand why her father had dangled the carrot of shares in the family firm, ensuring that he would oversee holding its reins in the years to come. A true marriage of convenience.

‘So...’

Somehow, without her noticing, Theo had managed to pour their collected parents glasses of wine and put the kettle on for coffee for both of them. He sauntered towards the kitchen table, which was a long oak affair that could comfortably seat twelve. He looked perfectly relaxed and utterly in charge.

‘Which lucky family member gets to tell us what’s going on...?’ he drawled, patting the chair next to him, into which Alexa sank with a sigh of relief, because nervous tension at this new, unsettling situation had piled up on top of the nervous tension already wreaking havoc inside her. He looked narrowly from face to face and his father cleared his throat.

‘We have been talking, son—’ Stefano said, sitting at the head of the table while the other two followed suit, flanking him on either side. Alexa’s mother nervously twirled the stem of her wine glass and looked at her daughter,

‘Let me, Stefano,’ Cora interrupted. ‘Now, Alexa, your father’s come clean and told me everything. I know you two have been worried sick about me, and I understand that you reached this...this...arrangement with poor Theo for the best possible reasons, but I don’t need protecting as much as you think.’

She looked lovingly at her husband, who looked away sheepishly.

Alexa’s brain had stopped at the description of Theo as ‘poor’, as in helpless, and she wanted to burst into hysterical laughter.

‘I’ve had health problems, all three of you know that, but they’ve been physical—not emotional. Yes, I’ll admit that I may have told your father, Alexa, that I longed for a grandchild—longed to see you settled down with a nice man—but what mother doesn’t wish that for her child? There was no need for you to concoct this silly scheme...’

‘So what are you saying?’ Alexa looked between the three parents in bewilderment. She was trying to follow what her mother was saying, but it was like walking in treacle. When she looked at Theo he was frowning, his brooding eyes speculative. It hit her just how much she had come to admire the silent strength of his personality, and was floored by how much it hurt to love him when her love wasn’t returned.

Stefano picked up the thread of the conversation. ‘We’re saying that there’s no need for this charade any longer. Certain things will remain in place...’

‘I promised you shares in my company,’ Carlo said, addressing Theo, ‘and that stays in place. I won’t pretend that I didn’t...’ he cleared his throat ‘...see certain advantages to helping your father out financially...’

‘Because you’re a manipulative old man.’ Cora smiled indulgently at her husband. ‘But, Alexa, darling, I don’t understand why you didn’t put your foot down and refuse to go through with this silly pretence. No...’ She sighed. ‘I do understand, and for that I have only love for you...’

Alexa’s head was swimming. She was now grasping exactly what was being said. She had been looking at the prospect of a year with Theo—a year trying to fight the impulses that were so much bigger than her...a year knowing that every time he crooked his finger it would take all the strength at her disposal not to go running...a year of knowing that she would walk away from their relationship battered and hurt beyond comprehension.

That year wasn’t going to happen now. She was being given her Get Out Of Jail Free card—and so was Theo.

And the future yawned in front of her like a black, empty void.

‘So...’ she said slowly.

‘Yes, my darling.’ Cora reached across the width of the kitchen table to pat her daughter’s hand. ‘And of course the press have hounded you both. You will simply tell them that the engagement’s off and so is the marriage...’

* * *

Alexa headed for the most secluded seat in the first class lounge at the airport. She didn’t want to be near anyone because she didn’t want to be dragged into making small talk. She’d been operating on automatic for the past three weeks and she planned on carrying on doing just that—at least until she reached London, when she was banking on new surroundings and the thrill of her new job to rescue her from the zombie-like torpor into which she had sunk.

Where had Theo gone? She didn’t know, and of course she had been too proud to ask her parents. She had moaned and railed against the situation in which she had found herself, and yet when that situation had been whipped out from under her feet she had been lost because she had become so dependent on him.

In the blink of an eye he had gone from being just the sort of guy she would run a mile from to being just the sort of guy she couldn’t imagine living without.

But live without him she would, and it hurt more than she could ever have contemplated in those carefree first few days when she had actually disliked him.

The press, predictably, had passed a few days speculating on the break-up of the perfectly matched couple and then, just as predictably, new scandals and gossip had drawn them away.

Now, staring down at the book on her lap, and with two hours of waiting ahead of her because she had been itching to leave, she thought back to the brief conversation she had had with Theo after his father and her parents had fled the scene, leaving them stranded in the kitchen like a couple of castaways, washed up on a beach after being stuck on a raft together but with nothing to say now that the storm had passed.

The passionate lover had gone. He had carefully asked her what her plans were now. One minute he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her—the next minute, freed from the shackles of a union he’d never asked for, he’d been coolly indifferent.

Of course she had gone on about the relief of not having to face a marriage neither of them had wanted. The more indifferent he’d seemed, the more she had sparkled, voicing the joys of her newfound freedom.

And then he’d gone, and she’d been left in an empty kitchen contemplating the horror of her newfound freedom.

London. Her parents had an apartment there. It was where she had lived before she had left for Italy and she would go back there. She had phoned her old company, who had remembered her, and after a million calls they had found her a job.

The change of scene would do her good—she knew that. Just being in her parents’ house had reminded her of Theo. And in the dead of night, her whole body ached for him.

Right, she thought severely, think about the good stuff.

No falling deeper and deeper in love with a man who didn’t love her. No agonising year together, during which time he would have grown tired of her body and settled back into enduring the time he was forced to spend in her company. He had simply been her lover, and she knew that she would eventually meet someone else—someone she could entrust with her heart.

She forced herself to read a few pages of her book and was totally unaware of anyone approaching her until a shadow fell over her. When she looked down she saw a pair of very expensive loafers and didn’t bother to look any higher, because if she didn’t then whoever it was wouldn’t ask her if she’d mind if he sat next to her.

‘Alexa.’

For a few seconds Alexa was convinced that she’d misheard her name being said—and had definitely misconstrued that rich, mellow voice she had come to love.

She hunkered down and ignored whoever it was—because he hadn’t spoken, and it was just her feverish imagination playing tricks on her.

‘Are you going to acknowledge me or are you going to carry on reading...? What are you reading?’

The book was whipped out of her hands and there he was, standing right in front of her, as cool as a cucumber and as devastatingly sexy as every single memory she had of him.

In a pair of cream trousers and a black T-shirt, with a cream linen jacket hooked over one shoulder, he was drop-dead gorgeous.

‘Still on the crime novels, I see. Would you like me to predict the end?’

‘What are you doing here?’

Her voice was a hoarse whisper and she cleared her throat, then fidgeted as he took the empty chair next to her and pulled it in, so that there was no way she could avoid looking at him.

Theo wished there was an easy answer to that question—something glib that he could pull out from up his sleeve—but there wasn’t. He had spent the past three weeks unable to focus, unable to concentrate—unable to do anything but think about her, even though he had told himself that it was great that he had been released from the obligation of a marriage he hadn’t wanted...great that he could resume his life as he had always wanted it...great that his routine would be returned to him.

His address book was bulging with names and phone numbers of women, and all of them without exception would have welcomed a call from him. He had known that.

He hadn’t called any of them because he’d had too much catching up to do on the work front. That was what he had told himself. Until he’d been forced to face the fact that he missed her. Not just her warm, welcoming body, which he had known for such a brief period of time, but he missed the whole package. He missed the way she bristled and glared at him...the way she never obeyed any of his ‘No Trespassing’ signs but got stuck in and told him just what she thought of him anyway. He missed her shy, hesitant smiles and the ready way her eyes filled up with tears. He missed the softness underneath the feisty scrapper. Most of all he just missed the woman who had been born to have it all and had chosen to do her own thing and ignore the life she had been conditioned to lead.

Except he had no idea how to put any of that into words, and he could feel her blazing eyes on him—could feel her willing him to just go away.

‘How have you been?’ he asked, in a lame attempt to kick-start the conversation.

‘Fine,’ Alexa said coldly. ‘Are you travelling to London? I had no idea.’

‘And if you had you would have checked on to a different flight...?’

Alexa shrugged. ‘Probably,’ she told him truthfully. ‘You can’t deny that this situation is a little uncomfortable at the moment. I do realise we’ll probably bump into one another in the years to come, but right now...’

‘I get it. From being lovers and engaged to...nothing...’

Resting his forearms on his thighs as he leaned forward, Theo raked his fingers through his hair and took some small comfort from the delicate blush that bloomed in her cheeks at the mention of their having been lovers.

‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ Alexa said stiffly. ‘In fact I’d rather you left me alone,’ she continued, barely able to look at him. ‘I have lots of planning to do for my new job in London and I really would like to do that in peace and quiet.’

‘No.’

Alexa’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him. ‘What do you mean, no?’ she demanded furiously.

‘I haven’t come here so that I can disappear without telling you what I’ve come to say.’

‘Which is what?’

‘I liked being engaged to you.’ He looked around him at the crowded lounge. ‘I have my driver outside.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

Alexa was frantically trying to analyse what he had just said about liking being engaged to her. What did that mean? She didn’t want to dwell on it, because it meant nothing coming from a man who had spent the past three weeks avoiding her and who didn’t have a committed bone in his body—a man who had a block of ice for a heart.

‘I want to talk to you and I can’t do it here.’

‘Well, I don’t want to talk to you.’ Alexa’s body was ramrod-straight and as stiff as a board. She dreaded that one of those hands loosely dangling between his thighs might accidentally brush against her, because if it did then she knew the already uphill task of projecting indifference would be even harder.

‘Please.’

That single word was wrenched out of him and for a second she hesitated, because please was not a word that passed his lips very often.

‘What do you want to talk about?’ she asked, relenting a little.

Theo glanced at her and kept his gaze on her face.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he said roughly, and Alexa tried to hold on to some of her gritty determination not to melt.

You’ve missed having sex with me.

‘Are you travelling to London as well?’

‘I will if I have to. I’m booked on the same flight as you, although I’d rather we didn’t have this conversation on a plane or in an airport lounge...’

‘Look, I can’t think that there’s anything to talk about, Theo. I mean, you’ve got your freedom, and I know that was all you wanted when you thought you’d lost it for a year. So maybe you miss having sex with me? You said that you wanted to carry on sleeping with me until... Well, until you got bored and dispatched me to wherever it is you dispatch women you no longer want hanging around. Some locked cupboard in your head, I expect. Of course, physically I’d have still been around, until the year ran out, but as far as sleeping with me went I guess it would have been separate rooms and you discreetly returning to your diet of leggy blonde supermodels...’

Her voice was brittle and she looked away and stared straight ahead.

‘So I’m not going to jump into bed with you again just because you’re not bored with me yet, Theo.’

Theo heard what she was saying and knew that she was describing the man he had thought himself to be. Even when they had walked away from one another he had still thought himself to be a guy who worked hard, played hard and avoided commitment.

‘And I wouldn’t ask you to,’ he said quietly. ‘Are you sure you won’t dump your flight so that we can have this conversation somewhere a little less...frantic?’

‘No one’s paying us a scrap of attention.’ She sighed with heartfelt longing. ‘I just want to get to London and begin a new chapter in my life.’

Theo’s jaw hardened. He had heard a lot about this wonderful new chapter in her life on the night they had returned from the best time he had ever had with a woman, to discover that the charade was over and they were free to go. She couldn’t have waxed more lyrical when it had come to letting him know how relieved she was that the pretence was over.

Pride had turned his responses then to ice, and pride had kept him away for three weeks, but now he had discovered that there was something more powerful than pride and that had been a bitter pill to swallow.

‘Your mother tells me that you have a new job lined up.’

‘You spoke to her?’

‘That’s how I knew that you would be leaving for London today. She told me a few days ago...’

‘A few days ago? Since when have you and my mother been having cosy chats behind my back? She never mentioned a word about talking to you!’

‘Because I asked her not to.’ Theo flushed darkly.

‘You asked her not to? Why would you do that?’ Alexa was genuinely bewildered.

‘I...’ He hunkered down.

Never in his life had he felt less cool, more in danger of making a complete fool of himself and more exposed to rejection. Indeed, when it came to women he had never felt exposed to rejection, and he loathed the feeling of vulnerability. He had never been vulnerable. He had always had the direction of his life firmly within his controlling hand.

Alexa was even more bewildered at his discomfort. It just wasn’t him.

‘I never thought I wanted involvement with a woman,’ Theo surprised her by saying. His eyes met hers and held them. ‘Don’t interrupt me,’ he continued, returning to some of his usual form. ‘I...I didn’t have any crash-and-burn relationships that turned me off commitment. I never lost my heart to a gold-digger only to find out in the nick of time. I suppose I was simply a product of my background—just as my brother is. I was ambitious, and in my upward climb I enjoyed women but never invited any of them further than the front door, emotionally speaking.’

Alexa gave him an encouraging look. She was all ears.

‘I was in no hurry to settle down—in fact it never crossed my mind what sort of woman I would end up with, or even if I would end up with one at all.’ He paused and thought about the relationship his parents had had. ‘When my mother died Daniel and I watched my father fall apart at the seams. Actually,’ he confessed heavily, ‘we all fell apart. And that was when I realised just how destructive all-consuming love can be.’

‘Empowering,’ Alexa corrected in a staccato voice. ‘I’m sure your father would agree that it was better to have had all those wonderful years with your mother than to have lived the sort of life you want to carve out for yourself.’

Theo smiled crookedly at her. ‘And that’s why I thought that, whether I married you or not, you and I were poles apart. I admit that the only kind of marriage that ever crossed my mind after my mother died was one that would have been very similar to the one we found ourselves pushed into—a marriage of convenience. But not with a woman who was all about romance and love and happy-ever-after endings... What I anticipated was a relationship where I couldn’t be hurt—a relationship that was a mutually convenient business arrangement...’

‘So you’ve come here to tell me what I already knew?’

‘No. I’ve come here to tell you that I was wrong.’

Hope flared inside her, suffocating everything else and shooting up blooms that she couldn’t squash.

‘What do you mean?’ Alexa asked in a stifled voice.

‘You know what I mean,’ Theo said drily. ‘I was wrong. I might have wanted a relationship I could control, but in the end I needed the relationship that I couldn’t. I needed you. I still do...’

Alexa masked her disappointment, because need was very far from love. ‘And that’s why you’re not the man for me,’ she said softly. ‘You’ve learned to be cynical and I’ve learned the opposite. I don’t want something that stops at need or desire or lust. I want the full package and I always did.’

‘And why can’t that be me?’ Theo demanded with muted belligerence.

He had never had to justify how he felt to anyone in his life before, and even if he left now, without her, he was driven to lay himself open to that possibility.

‘Because—’

‘I love you, Alexa. I never expected to, but somehow it just...happened. Without even realising it I let you into my life, and I came here to tell you that I don’t want you to leave it. I came here to ask you if you’d be mine for ever. Hell, Alexa, I came here to propose to you now that we’re no longer engaged...’

‘You love me...?’

The words hitched in her throat and she tentatively stroked his knuckles with her finger, wishing now that she had abandoned her flight and gone somewhere else with him for this conversation—but how was she supposed to have known what he had come to say?

‘You have no idea how much I’ve longed to hear you say that,’ she whispered tremulously. ‘I didn’t think I would ever fall in love with you. You didn’t make sense. I’d always assumed that the guy I fell for would be...well, just the opposite of you, to be honest. And I hated it that I was being forced into marrying you...’

‘Tell me about it. I’ve never known a woman fight me as much as you did...’

Alexa laughed. She believed him. She’d dug her heels in. But even when she’d thought that she was refusing to budge an inch more than necessary she had already been shifting in places she hadn’t begun to understand.

‘I was so desperate for you to be the horrible, arrogant person I wanted you to be, but it felt like with every day that passed you escaped the box I’d shoved you in just a little bit more—until I realised that I’d fallen in love with the three-dimensional guy I never thought you could ever be.’ She frowned as a sudden thought occurred to her. ‘Did you tell my mother why you were coming here?’

‘It was the only way I could find out what sort of reception I might expect,’ he confessed, with such humility that she wanted to kiss him and keep right on kissing him. ‘I swore her to secrecy,’ he further admitted. ‘She was to say nothing if it turned out that you wanted me out of your life for good.’

‘I love you so much, Theo,’ Alexa whispered, half giggling, because this was such an inappropriate place for such a wildly wonderful marriage proposal.

‘So you’ll marry me...?’

‘Try and stop me...’

* * * * *

Leonetti’s Housekeeper Bride

Lynne Graham

His Innocent Wife...

The last thing Gaetano Leonetti wants is to be shackled in marriage, but to become CEO of his family’s bank, his grandfather has decreed Gaetano must find a nice, ordinary woman to wed.

Convinced his grandfather is mad, Gaetano sets about proving him wrong with housekeeper Poppy Arnold. With her outspoken nature and unusual dress sense, she’s definitely not wife material!

But it’s not long before hardworking, self-sacrificing Poppy charms his grandfather and Gaetano’s stuck with a union he didn’t want and a bride he sinfully craves! Having set her up to fail, can he really take the precious gift of her virginity?

‘Think about what I’m offering you. You can reclaim your life and return to being a carefree student,’ Gaetano pointed out, his persuasion insidious. ‘No more scrubbing floors or serving drinks.’

‘Stop!’ Poppy said, leaping to her feet to walk restively around the room while she battled the tempting possibilities he had placed in front of her.

Gaetano studied her from below heavily lashed eyelids. She would surrender—of course she would. As a teenager she had been ambitious, and he could still see that spirited spark of wanting more than her servant ancestors had ever wanted glowing within her.

‘And of course your ultimate goal is becoming CEO of the Leonetti Bank—and marrying me will deliver that,’ Poppy filled in slowly, her luminous green eyes skimming to his lean darkly handsome features in wonderment. ‘I can’t believe how ambitious you are.’

‘The bank is my life. It always has been,’ Gaetano admitted without apology. ‘Nothing gives me as much of a buzz as a profitable deal.’

‘I’ll give you an answer in the morning.’

Gaetano slid fluidly out of his seat and approached her. ‘But you already know the answer. You like what I do to you,’ he said huskily, with blazing confidence, running a teasing forefinger down over her cheek to stroke it along the soft curve of her full lower lip.

LYNNE GRAHAM was born in Northern Ireland and has been a keen romance reader since her teens. She is very happily married to an understanding husband who has learned to cook since she started to write! Her five children keep her on her toes. She has a very large dog who knocks everything over, a very small terrier who barks a lot, and two cats. When time allows, Lynne is a keen gardener.

Books by Lynne Graham

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

The Secret His Mistress Carried The Dimitrakos Proposition A Ring to Secure His Heir Unlocking Her Innocence

The Notorious Greeks

The Greek Demands His Heir The Greek Commands His Mistress

Bound by Gold

The Sheikh’s Secret Babies The Billionaire’s Bridal Bargain

The Legacies of Powerful Men

Ravelli’s Defiant Bride Christakis’s Rebellious Wife Zarif’s Convenient Queen

A Bride for a Billionaire

A Rich Man’s Whim The Sheikh’s Prize The Billionaire’s Trophy Challenging Dante

Visit the Author Profile page at

millsandboon.co.uk for more titles

CHAPTER ONE

GAETANO LEONETTI WAS having a very bad day. It had started at dawn, when his phone went off and proceeded to show him a series of photos that enraged him but which he knew would enrage his grandfather and the very conservative board of the Leonetti investment bank even more. Regrettably, sacking the woman responsible for the story in the downmarket tabloid was likely to be the sole satisfaction he could hope to receive.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Tom Sandyford, Gaetano’s middle-aged legal adviser and close friend, told him quietly.

‘Of course it’s my fault,’ Gaetano growled. ‘It was my house, my party and the woman in my bed at the time who organised the damned party—’

‘Celia was that soap star with the cocaine habit you didn’t know about,’ Tom reminisced. ‘Wasn’t she sacked from the show soon after you ditched her?’

Gaetano nodded, his even white teeth gritting harder.

‘It’s a case of bad luck...that’s all,’ Tom opined. ‘You can’t ask your guests to post their credentials beforehand, so you had no way of knowing some of them weren’t tickety-boo.’

‘Tickety-boo?’ Gaetano repeated, his lean, darkly handsome features frowning. Although he was born and raised in England, Italian had been the language of his home and he still occasionally came across English words and phrases that were unfamiliar.

‘Decent upstanding citizens,’ Tom rephrased. ‘So, a handful of them were hookers? Well, in the rarefied and very privileged world you move in, how were you supposed to find that out?’

‘The press found it out,’ Gaetano countered flatly.

‘With the usual silly “Orgy at the Manor” big reveal. It’ll be forgotten in five minutes...although that blonde dancing naked in the fountain out front is rather memorable,’ Tom remarked, scanning the newspaper afresh with lascivious intent.

‘I don’t remember seeing her. I left the party early to fly to New York. Everyone still had their clothes on at that stage,’ Gaetano said drily. ‘I really don’t need another scandal like this.’

‘Scandal does rather seem to follow you around. I suppose the old man and the board at the bank are up in arms as usual,’ Tom commented with sympathy.

Gaetano compressed his wide sensual mouth in silent agreement. In the name of family loyalty and respect, he was paying in the blood of his fierce pride and ambition for the latest scandal. Letting his seventy-four-year-old grandfather Rodolfo carpet him like a badly behaved schoolboy had proved to be a truly toxic experience for a billionaire whose investment advice was sought by governments both in the UK and abroad. And when Rodolfo had settled into his favourite preaching session about Gaetano’s womanising lifestyle, Gaetano had had to breathe in deeply several times and resist the urge to point out to the older man that expectations and values had changed since the nineteen forties for both men and women.

Rodolfo Leonetti had married a humble fisherman’s daughter at the age of twenty-one and during his fifty years of devoted marriage he had never looked at another woman. Ironically, his only child, Gaetano’s father, Rocco, had not taken his father’s advice on the benefits of making an early marriage either. Rocco had been a notorious playboy and an incorrigible gambler. He had married a woman young enough to be his daughter when he was in his fifties, had fathered one son and had expired ten years later after over-exerting himself in another woman’s bed. Gaetano reckoned he had been paying for his father’s sins almost from the hour of his birth. At the age of twenty-nine and one of the world’s leading bankers, he was tired of being continually forced to prove his worth and confine his projects to the narrow expectations of the board. He had made millions for the Leonetti Bank; he deserved to be CEO.

Indeed, Rodolfo’s angry ultimatum that very morning had outraged Gaetano.

‘You will never be the chief executive of this bank until you change your way of life and settle down into being a respectable family man!’ his grandfather had sworn angrily. ‘I will not support your leadership with the board and, no matter how brilliant you are, Gaetano, the board always listens to me... They remember too well how your father almost brought the bank down with his risky ventures!’

Yet what, realistically, did Gaetano’s sex life have to do with his acumen and expertise as a banker? Since when were a wife and children the only measure of a man’s judgement and maturity?

Gaetano had not the slightest interest in getting married. In fact he shuddered at the idea of being anchored to one woman for the rest of his life while living in fear of a divorce that could deprive him of half of his financial portfolio. He was a very hard worker. He had earned his academic qualifications with honours in the most prestigious international institutions and his achievements since then had been immense. Why wasn’t that enough? In comparison his father had been an academically slow and spoiled rich boy who, like Peter Pan, had refused to grow up. Such a comparison was grossly unfair.

Tom dealt Gaetano a rueful appraisal. ‘You didn’t get the old “find an ordinary girl” spiel again, did you?’

‘“An ordinary girl, not a party girl, one who takes pleasure in the simple things of life,”’ Gaetano quoted verbatim because his grandfather’s discourses always ran to the same conclusion: marry, settle down, father children with a home-loving female...and the world would then miraculously become Gaetano’s oyster with little happy unicorns dancing on some misty horizon shaped by a rainbow. His lean bronzed features hardened with grim cynicism. He had seen just how well that fantasy had turned out for once-married and now happily divorced friends.

‘Perhaps you could time travel back to the nineteen fifties to find this ordinary girl,’ Tom quipped, wondering how the era of female liberation and career women had contrived to pass Rodolfo Leonetti by so completely that he still believed such women existed.

‘The best of it is, if I did produce an ordinary girl and announce that I was going to marry her Rodolfo would be appalled,’ Gaetano breathed impatiently. ‘He’s too much of a snob. Unfortunately he’s become so obsessed by his conviction that I need to marry that he’s blocking my progression at the bank.’

His PA entered and extended two envelopes. ‘The termination of contract on the grounds of the confidentiality clause which has been breached and the notice to quit the accommodation that goes with the job,’ she specified. ‘The helicopter is waiting for you on the roof, sir.’

‘What’s going on?’ Tom asked.

‘I’m flying down to Woodfield Hall to sack the housekeeper who handed over those photos to the press.’

‘It was the housekeeper?’ Tom prompted in surprise.

‘She was named in the article. Not the brightest of women,’ Gaetano pointed out drily.

* * *

Poppy leapt off her bike, kicked the support into place and ran into the village shop to buy milk. As usual she was running late but she could not drink coffee without milk and didn’t feel properly awake until she had had at least two cups. Her mane of fiery red-gold curls bounced on her slim black-clad shoulders and her green eyes sparkled.

‘Good morning, Frances,’ she said cheerfully to the rather sour-looking older woman behind the counter as she dug into her purse to pay.

‘I’m surprised you’re so bright this morning,’ the shop owner remarked in a tone laden with suggestive meaning.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

The older woman slapped a well-thumbed newspaper down on the counter and helpfully turned it round to enable Poppy to read the headline. Poppy paled with dismay and snatched the publication up, moving on impatiently to the next page only to groan at the familiar photo of the naked blonde cavorting in the fountain. Her brother, Damien, had definitely taken that photo on the night of that infamous party. She knew that because she had caught him showing that particular one off to his mates.

‘Seems your ma has been talking out of turn,’ Frances remarked. ‘Shouldn’t think Mr Leonetti will appreciate that...’

Glancing up to meet the older woman’s avidly curious gaze, Poppy hastily paid for the paper and left the shop. That photo? How on earth had the newspaper got hold of it? And what about the other photos? The heaving, fortunately unidentifiable bodies in one of the bedrooms? When invited to join the party by a drunken guest, had Damien taken other, even more risqué pictures? And her mother...what insanity had persuaded her to risk her job by trashing her employer to a tabloid journalist? Poppy’s soft full mouth down-curved and her shoulders slumped as she climbed back on her bike. Unfortunately Poppy knew exactly why her mother might have been so foolish: Jasmine Arnold was an alcoholic.

Poppy had once got her mother to an AA meeting and it had done her good but she had never managed to get the older woman back to a second. Instead, Jasmine just drank herself insensible every day while Poppy struggled to do her mother’s job for her as well as doing her own. What else could she do when the very roof over their heads was dependent on Jasmine’s continuing employment? And after all, wasn’t it her fault that her mother had sunk so low before Poppy realised how bad things had got in her own home and had finally come back to live with her family again?

It was very fortunate that Gaetano only visited the house once or twice a year. But then Gaetano was a city boy through and through and a beautiful Georgian country house an inconvenient distance from London was of little use or interest to him. Had he been a more regular visitor she would never have been able to conceal her mother’s condition for so long.

Poppy pumped the bike pedals hard to get up the hill before careening at speed into the driveway of Woodfield Hall. The beautiful house had been the Leonetti family home in England since the eighteenth century when the family had first come over from Venice to set up as glorified moneylenders. And if there was one thing that family were good at it, it was making pots and pots of money, Poppy reflected ruefully, shying away from the challenge of thinking about Gaetano in an any more personal way.

She and Gaetano might have virtually grown up in the same household but it would be an outright lie to suggest that they were ever in any way friendly. After all, Gaetano was six years older and had spent most of his time in posh boarding schools.

But Poppy knew that Gaetano would go crazy about the publication of those photos. He was fanatical about his privacy and if his idea of fun was a sex party, she could perfectly understand why! Her spirits sank at the prospect of the trouble looming ahead. No matter how hard she worked life never seemed to get any easier and there always seemed to be another crisis waiting to erupt round the next corner. Yet how could she look after her mother and her brother when their own survival instincts appeared to be so poor?

The Arnold family lived in a flat that had been converted from part of the original stable block at the hall. Jasmine Arnold, a tall skinny redhead in her late forties, was sitting at the kitchen table when her daughter walked in.

Poppy slapped down the paper on the table. ‘Mum? Were you out of your mind when you talked to a journalist about that party?’ she demanded, before opening the back door and yelling her brother’s name at the top of her voice.

Damien emerged from one of the garages, wiping oil stains off his hands with a dirty cloth. ‘Where’s the fire?’ he asked irritably as his sister moved forward to greet him.

‘You gave the photos you took at that party to a journalist?’ his sister challenged in disbelief.

‘No, I didn’t,’ her kid brother countered. ‘Mum knew they were on my phone and she handed them over. She sold them. Got a pile of cash for them and the interview.’

Poppy was even more appalled. She could have excused stupidity or careless speech to the wrong person but she was genuinely shocked that her mother had taken money in return for her disloyalty to her employer.

Damien groaned at the expression on his sister’s face. ‘Poppy...you should know by now that Mum would do anything to get the money to buy her next drink,’ he pointed out heavily. ‘I told her not to hand over the photos or talk to the guy but she wouldn’t listen to me—’

‘Why didn’t you tell me what she’d done?’

‘What could you do about it? I hoped that maybe the photos wouldn’t be used or that, if they were, nobody of any importance would see them,’ Damien admitted. ‘I doubt if Gaetano sits down to read every silly story that’s written about him... I mean, he’s never out of the papers!’

‘But if you’re wrong, Mum will be sacked and we’ll be kicked out of the flat.’

Damien wasn’t the type to worry about what might never happen and he said wryly, ‘Let’s hope I’m not wrong.’

But Poppy took after her late father and she was a worrier. It was hard to credit that it was only a few years since the Arnolds had been a secure and happy family of four. Her father had been the gardener at Woodfield Hall and her mother the housekeeper. At twenty years of age, Poppy had been two years into her training at nursing school and Damien had just completed his apprenticeship as a car mechanic. And then without any warning at all their much-loved father had dropped dead and all their lives had been shattered by that cruelly sudden bereavement.

Poppy had taken time out from her course to try and help her mother through the worst of her grief and then she had returned to her studies. Unhappily and without her knowledge, things had gone badly wrong at that point. Her mother had gone off the rails and Damien had been unable to cope with what was happening in his home. Her brother had then got in with the wrong crowd and had ended up in prison. That was when Poppy had finally come home to find her mother sunk in depression and drinking heavily. Poppy had taken a leave of absence from her course, hoping, indeed expecting, that her mother would soon pull round again. Unfortunately that hadn’t happened. Although Jasmine was still drinking, Poppy’s one consolation was that, after earning early release from prison with his good behaviour, her little brother had got his act together again. Sadly, however, Damien’s criminal record had made it impossible for him to get a job.

Poppy still felt horribly guilty about the fact that she had left her kid brother to deal with her deeply troubled mother. Intent on pursuing her chosen career and being the first Arnold female in generations not to earn her living by serving the Leonettis, she had been selfish and thoughtless and she had been trying to make up for that mistake ever since.

When she returned to the flat her mother had locked herself in her bedroom. Poppy suppressed a sigh and dug out her work kit and rubber gloves to cross the courtyard and enter the hall. She turned out different rooms of the big house every week, dusting and vacuuming and scrubbing. It was deeply ironic that she had been so set against working for the Leonettis when she was a teenager but had ended up doing it anyway even if it was unofficial. Evenings she served drinks in the local pub. There wasn’t time in her life for agonising when there was always a job needing to be done.

Disturbingly however she couldn’t get Gaetano Leonetti out of her mind. He was the one and only boy she had ever hated but also the only one she had ever loved. What did that say about her? Self-evidently, that at the age of sixteen she had been really stupid to imagine for one moment that she could ever have any kind of a personal relationship with the posh, privileged scion of the Leonetti family. The wounding demeaning words that Gaetano had shot at her then were still burned into her bones like the scars of an old breakage.

‘I don’t mess around with staff,’ he had said, emphasising the fact that they were not equals and that he would always inhabit a different stratum of society.

‘Stop coming on to me, Poppy. You’re acting like a slapper.’ Oh, how she had cringed at that reading of her behaviour when in truth she had merely been too young and inexperienced to know how to be subtle about spelling out the fact that should he be interested, she was available.

‘You’re a short, curvy redhead. You could never be my type.’

It was seven years since that humiliating exchange had taken place and apart from one final demeaning encounter she had not seen Gaetano since, having always gone out of her way to avoid him whenever he was expected at the hall. So, he didn’t know that she had slimmed down and shot up inches in height, wouldn’t much care either, she reckoned with wry amusement. After all, Gaetano went for very beautiful and sophisticated ladies in designer clothes. Although the one who had thrown that shockingly wild party had not been much of a lady in the original sense of the word.

Having put in her hours at the hall in the ongoing challenge to ensure that it was always well prepared for a visit that could come at very short notice, Poppy went back home to get changed for her bar work. Jasmine was out for the count on her bed, an empty bottle of cheap wine lying beside her. Studying her slumped figure, Poppy suppressed a sigh, recalling the busy, lively and caring woman her mother had once been. Alcohol had stolen all that from her. Jasmine needed specialised help and rehabilitation but there wasn’t even counselling available locally and Poppy had no hope of ever acquiring sufficient cash to pay for private treatment for the older woman.

Poppy put on the Goth clothes that she had first donned like a mask to hide behind when she was a bullied teenager. She had been picked on in school for being a little overweight and red-haired. Heck, she had even been bullied for being ‘posh’ although her family lived in the hall’s servant accommodation. Since then, although she no longer dyed her hair or painted her nails black, she had come to enjoy a touch of individuality in her wardrobe and had maintained the basic style. She had lost a lot of weight since she started working two jobs and she was convinced that her Goth-style clothes did a good job of disguising her skinniness. For work she had teamed a dark red net flirty skirt with a fitted black jersey rock print top. The outfit hugged her small full breasts, enhanced her waist and accentuated the length of her legs.

At the end of her shift in the busy bar that was paired with a popular restaurant, Poppy pulled on her coat and waited outside for Damien to show up on his motorbike.

‘Gaetano Leonetti arrived in a helicopter this evening,’ her brother delivered curtly. ‘He demanded to see Mum but she was out of it and I had to pretend she was sick. He handed over these envelopes for her and I opened them once he’d gone. Mum’s being sacked and we have a month’s notice to move out of the flat.’

An anguished moan of dismay at those twin blows parted Poppy’s lips.

‘I guess he did see that newspaper.’ Damien grimaced. ‘He certainly hasn’t wasted any time booting us out.’

‘Can we blame him for that?’ Poppy asked even though her heart was sinking to the soles of her shoes. Where would they go? How would they live? They had no rainy-day account for emergencies. Her mother drank her salary and Damien was on benefits.

But Poppy was a fighter, always had been, always would be. She took after her father more than her mother. She was good at picking herself up when things went wrong. Her mother, however, had never fully recovered from the stillbirth she had suffered the year before Poppy’s father had died. Those two terrible calamities coming so close together had knocked her mother’s feet from under her and she had never really got up again. Poppy swallowed hard as she climbed onto the bike and gripped her brother’s waist. She could still remember her mother’s absolute joy at that unexpected late pregnancy, which in the end had become a source of so much grief and loss.

As the bike rolled past the hall Poppy saw the light showing through the front window of the library and tensed. Gaetano was staying over for the night?

‘Yeah, he’s still here,’ Damien confirmed as he put his bike away. ‘So what?’

‘I’m going to speak to him—’

‘What’s the point?’ her brother asked in a tone of defeat. ‘Why should he care?’

But Gaetano did have a heart, Poppy thought in desperation. At least he had had a heart at the age of thirteen when his father had run over his dog and killed it. She had seen the tears in Gaetano’s eyes and she had been crying too. Dino had been as much her dog as his because Dino had hung around with her when Gaetano was away at school, not that he had probably ever realised that. Dino had never been replaced and when she had asked why not in the innocent way of a child, Gaetano had simply said flatly, ‘Dogs die.’

And she had been too young to really understand that outlook, that raising of the barriers against the threat of being hurt again. She had seen no tears in his remarkable eyes at his father’s funeral but he had been almost as devastated as his grandfather when his grandmother passed away. But then the older couple had been more his parents than his real parents had. Within a year of becoming a widow, his mother had remarried and moved to Florida without her son.

Poppy breathed in deep as she marched round the side of the big house with Damien chasing in her wake.

‘It’s almost midnight!’ he hissed. ‘You can’t go calling on him now!’

‘If I wait until tomorrow I’ll lose my nerve,’ she said truthfully.

Damien hung back in the shadows, watching as she rang the doorbell and waited, her hands dug in the pockets of her faux-leather flying jacket. A voice sounded somewhere close by and she flinched in surprise, turning her head as a man in a suit talking into a mobile phone walked towards her in the moonlight.

‘I’m security, Miss Arnold,’ he said quietly. ‘I was telling Mr Leonetti who was at the door.’

Poppy suppressed a rude word. She had forgotten the tight security with which the Leonetti family surrounded themselves. Of course, calling in on Gaetano late at night wouldn’t go unquestioned.

‘I want to see your boss,’ she declared.

The security man was talking Italian into the phone and she couldn’t follow a word of what he was saying. When the man frowned, she knew he was about to deliver a negative and she moved off the step and snapped, ‘I have to see Gaetano! It’s really important.’

Somewhere someone made a decision and a moment later there was the sound of heavy bolts being drawn back to open the massive front door. Another security man nodded acknowledgement and stood back for her entrance into the marble-floored hall with its perfect proportions and priceless paintings. A trickle of perspiration ran down between her taut shoulder blades and she straightened her spine in defiance of it although she was already shrinking at the challenge of what she would have to tell Gaetano. At this juncture, coming clean was her sole option.

* * *

Poppy Arnold? Gaetano’s brain had conjured up several time-faded images. Poppy as a little girl paddling at the lake edge in spite of his warnings; Poppy sobbing over Dino with all the drama of her class and no thought of restraint; Poppy looking at him as if he might imminently walk on water when she was about fifteen, a scrutiny that had become considerably less innocent and entertaining a year later. And finally, Poppy, a taunting sensual smile tilting her lips as she sidled out of the shrubbery closely followed by a young estate worker, both of them engaged in righting their rumpled, grass-stained clothing.

Bearing in mind the number of years the Arnold family had worked for his own, he felt that it was only fair that he at least saw Poppy and listened to what she had to say in her mother’s defence. He hadn’t, however, thought about Poppy in years. Did she still live with her family? He was surprised, having always assumed Poppy would flee country life and the type of employment she had soundly trounced as being next door to indentured servitude in the modern world. Touching a respectful forelock had held no appeal whatsoever for outspoken, rebellious Poppy, he acknowledged wryly. How much had she changed? Was she working for him now somewhere on the pay roll? His ebony brows drew together in a frown at his ignorance as he lounged back against the edge of the library desk and awaited her appearance.

The tap-tap of high heels sounded in the corridor and the door opened to reveal legs that could have rivalled a Vegas showgirl’s toned and perfect pins. Disconcerted by that startlingly unexpected and carnal thought, Gaetano ripped his attention from those incredibly long shapely legs and whipped it up to her face, only to receive another jolt. Time had transformed Poppy Arnold into a tall, dazzling redhead. He was staring but he couldn’t help it while his shrewd brain was engaged in ticking off familiarities and changes. The bright green eyes were unaltered but the rounded face had fined down to an exquisite heart shape to frame slanting cheekbones, a dainty little nose and a mouth lush and pink enough to star in any male fantasy. The pulse at Gaetano’s groin throbbed and he straightened, flicking his jacket closed to conceal his physical reaction while thinking that Poppy might well get the last laugh after all because the ugly duckling he had once rejected had become a swan.

‘Mr Leonetti,’ she said as politely as though they had never met before.

‘Gaetano, please,’ he countered wryly, seeing no reason to stand on ceremony with her. ‘We have known each other since childhood.’

‘I don’t think I ever knew you,’ Poppy said frankly, studying him with bemused concentration.

She had expected to notice unappetising changes in Gaetano. After all, he was almost thirty years old now and lived a deskbound, self-indulgent and, by all accounts, decadent life. By this stage he should have been showing some physical fallout from that lifestyle. But there was no hint of portliness in his very tall, powerfully built frame and certainly no jowls to mar the perfection of his strong, stubbled jaw line. And his dense blue-black curly hair was as plentiful as ever.

An electrifying silence enclosed them and Poppy stepped restively off one foot onto the other, her slender figure tense as a drawn bow string while she studied him. Taller and broader than he had been, he was even more gorgeous than he had been seven years earlier when she had fallen for him like a ton of bricks. Silly, silly girl that she had been, she conceded ruefully, but there was no denying that even then she had had good taste because Gaetano was stunning in the way so very few men were. A tiny flicker in her pelvis made her press her thighs together, warmth flushing over her skin. His dark eyes, set below black straight brows, were locked to her with an intensity that made her inwardly squirm. He had eyes with incredibly long thick lashes, she was recalling dizzily, so dark and noticeable in their volume that she had once suspected him of wearing guy liner like some of the boys she had known back then.

‘Do you still live here with your mother and brother?’ Gaetano enquired.

‘Yes,’ Poppy admitted, fighting to banish the fog that had briefly closed round her brain. ‘You’re probably wondering why I’ve come to see you at this hour. I’m a bartender at the Flying Horseman down the road and I’ve only just finished my shift.’

Gaetano was pleasantly surprised that she had contrived to speak two entire sentences without spluttering the profanities which had laced her speech seven years earlier. Of course, right now she was probably watching her every word with him, he reasoned. A bartender? He supposed it explained the outfit, which looked as though it would be more at home in a nightclub.

‘I saw the newspaper article,’ she added. ‘Obviously you want to sack my mother for talking about the party and selling those photos. I’m not denying that you have good reason to do that.’

‘Where did the photos come from?’ Gaetano asked curiously. ‘Who took them?’

Poppy winced. ‘One of the guests invited my brother to join the party when she saw him outside directing cars. He did what I imagine most young men would do when they see half-naked women—he took pictures on his phone. I’m not excusing him but he didn’t sell those photos... It was my mother who took his phone and did that—’

‘I assume I’ll see your mother in person tomorrow before I leave. But I’ll ask you now. My family has always treated your mother well. Why did she do it?’

Poppy breathed in deep and lifted her chin, bracing herself for what she had to say. ‘My mother’s an alcoholic, Gaetano. They offered her money and that was all it took. All she was thinking about was probably how she would buy her next bottle of booze. I’m afraid she can’t see beyond that right now.’

Taken aback, Gaetano frowned. He had not been prepared for that revelation. It did not make a difference to his attitude though. Disloyalty was not a trait he could overlook in an employee. ‘Your mother must be a functioning alcoholic, then,’ he assumed. ‘Because the house appears to be in good order.’

‘No, she’s not functioning.’ Poppy sighed, her soft mouth tightening. ‘I’ve been covering up for her for more than a year. I’ve been looking after this place.’

His lean, darkly handsome features tightened. ‘In other words there has been a concentrated campaign to deceive me as to what was going on here,’ he condemned with a sudden harshness that dismayed her. ‘At any time you could have approached me and asked for my understanding and even my help—yet you chose not to do so. I have no tolerance for deception, Poppy. This meeting is at an end.’

A hundred different thoughts flashing through her mind, Poppy stared at him, her heart beating very fast with nerves and consternation. ‘But—’

‘No extenuating circumstances allowed or invited,’ Gaetano cut in with derision. ‘I have heard all I need to hear from you and there is nothing more to say. Leave.’

CHAPTER TWO

POPPY TOOK A sudden step forward. ‘Don’t speak to me like that!’ she warned Gaetano angrily.

‘I can speak to you whatever way I like. I’m in my own home and it seems that you are one of my employees.’

‘No, I’m not!’ Poppy contradicted with unashamed satisfaction. ‘I donated my services free for my mother’s sake!’

‘Let’s not make it sound as if you dug ditches,’ Gaetano fired back impatiently. ‘As I’m so rarely here there can’t be that much work concerned in keeping the house presentable.’

‘I think you’d be surprised by how much work is involved in a place this size!’ Poppy snapped back firely.

Anger made her green eyes shine blue-green like a peacock feather, Gaetano noted. ‘I’m really not interested,’ he said drily. ‘And if you donated your services free that was downright stupid, not praiseworthy.’

Poppy almost stamped an enraged foot. ‘I’m not stupid. How dare you say that? I could hardly charge you for the work my mother was already being paid to do, could I?’

Gaetano shrugged a broad shoulder, watching her tongue flick out to moisten her red-lipsticked mouth, imagining her doing other much dirtier things with it and then tensing with exquisite discomfort as arousal coursed feverishly through his lower body. She was sexy, smoulderingly so, he acknowledged grimly. ‘I’m sure you’re versatile enough to have found some way round that problem.’

‘But not dishonest enough to do so,’ Poppy proclaimed with pride. ‘Mum was being paid for the job and it was done, so on that score you have no grounds for complaint.’

‘I don’t?’ An ebony brow lifted in challenge. ‘An alcoholic has been left in charge of the household accounts?’

‘Oh, no, that’s not been happening,’ Poppy hastened to reassure him. ‘Mum no longer has access to the household cash. I made sure of that early on.’

‘Then how have the bills been paid?’

Poppy compressed her lips as she registered that he truly did not have a clue how his own household had worked for years. ‘I paid them. I’ve been taking care of the accounts here since Dad died.’

‘But you’re not authorised!’ Gaetano slammed back at her distrustfully.

‘Neither was my father but he took care of them for a long time.’

Gaetano’s frown grew even darker. ‘Your father had access as well? What the hell?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, are you always this rigid?’ Poppy groaned in disbelief. ‘Mum never had a head for figures. Dad always did the accounts for her. Your grandmother knew. Whenever your grandmother had a query about the accounts she had to wait until Mum had asked Dad for the answer. It wasn’t a secret back then.’

‘And how am I supposed to trust you with substantial sums of money when your brother was recently in prison for theft?’ Gaetano demanded sharply. ‘My accountants will check the accounts and, believe me, if there are any discrepancies I will be bringing in the police.’

Having paled when he threw his knowledge of Damien’s conviction at her, Poppy stood very straight and still, her facial muscles tight with self-control. ‘Damien got involved with a gang of car thieves but he didn’t actually steal any of the cars. He’s the mechanic who worked on the stolen vehicles before they were shipped abroad to be sold.’

‘What a very fine distinction!’ Gaetano derided, unimpressed.

Poppy raised her head high, green eyes flashing defiance like sparks. ‘You get your accountants in to check the books. There won’t be any discrepancies,’ she fired back with pride. ‘And don’t be snide about my brother.’

‘I wasn’t being snide.’

‘You were being snide from the pinnacle of your rich, privileged, feather-bedded life. Damien broke the law and he was punished for it,’ Poppy told him. ‘He’s paid his dues and he’s learned his lesson. Maybe you’ve never made any mistakes, Gaetano?’

‘My mistake was in allowing that party to be held here!’ Gaetano slung back at her grittily. ‘And don’t drag my background or my wealth into this conversation. It’s unfair—’

‘Then don’t be so superior!’ Poppy advised. ‘But maybe you can’t help being the way you are.’

‘Do you really think hurling insults at me is likely to further your cause?’

‘You haven’t even given me the chance to tell you what my cause is,’ she pointed out. ‘You’re so argumentative, Gaetano!’

‘I’m...argumentative?’ Gaetano carolled in disbelief.

‘I want you to give Mum another chance,’ Poppy admitted doggedly. ‘I know you’re not feeling very generous. I know that having your kinky party preferences splashed all over the media has to have been embarrassing for you—’

‘I do not have kinky preferences—’

‘It’s none of my business whether you do or not!’ Poppy riposted. ‘I’m not being judgemental.’

‘How very generous of you in the circumstances,’ Gaetano murmured icily.

‘And if you’re not being argumentative, you’re being sarcastic!’ Poppy flared back at him with raw resentment. ‘Can you even try listening to me?’

‘If you could try to refrain from commenting about my preferences, kinky or otherwise,’ Gaetano advised flatly.

‘May I take my shoes off?’ she asked him abruptly. ‘I’ve been standing all night and my feet are killing me!’

Gaetano shifted an impatient hand. ‘Take them off. Say what you have to say and then go. I’m bored with this.’

‘You’re so kind and encouraging,’ Poppy replied in a honeyed tone of stinging sweetness as she removed her shoes and dropped several crucial inches in height, unsettled by the reality that, although she was five feet eight inches tall, he had a good six inches on her and now towered over her in a manner she instinctively disliked.

As she flexed those incredible long legs sheathed in black lace, Gaetano watched, admiring her long toned calves, neat little knees and long slender thighs. A flash of white inner thigh as she bent in that short skirt and her small full breasts shifting unbound below the clinging top sent his temperature rocketing and made his teeth grit. Was she teasing him deliberately? Was the provocative outfit a considered invitation? What woman dressed like that came to see a man at midnight with clean intentions?

‘Talk, Poppy,’ he urged very drily, infuriated at the way his brain was rebelling against his usual rational control and concentration to stray in directions he was determined not to travel.

‘Mum has had it tough the last few years—’

Gaetano held up a silencing hand. ‘I know about the stillbirth and of course your father’s death and I’m heartily sorry for the woman, but those misfortunes don’t excuse what’s been happening here.’

‘Mum needs help, not judgement, Gaetano,’ Poppy argued shakily.

‘I’m her employer, not her family and not a therapist,’ Gaetano pointed out calmly. ‘She’s not my responsibility.’

In a more hesitant voice, Poppy added, ‘Your grandfather always said we were one big family here.’

‘Please don’t tell me that you fell for that old chestnut. My grandfather is an old-fashioned man who likes the sound of such sentiments but somehow I don’t think he’d be any more compassionate than I am when it comes to the security of his home. Leaving an untrustworthy and unstable alcoholic in charge here would be complete madness,’ he stated coolly.

‘Yes, but...you could give Mum’s job to me,’ Poppy reasoned in a desperate rush. ‘I’ve been doing it to your satisfaction for months, so you’ve actually had a free trial. That way we could stay on in the flat and you wouldn’t have to look for someone new.’

Discomfiture made Gaetano tense. ‘You never wanted to do domestic work... I’m well aware of that.’

‘We all have to do things we don’t want to do, particularly when it comes to looking out for family,’ Poppy argued with feeling. ‘After Dad died I went back to my nursing course and left Damien looking after Mum. He couldn’t cope. He didn’t tell me how bad things had got here and because of that he got into trouble. Mum is my responsibility and I turned my back on her when she needed me most.’

Gaetano, who was unsurprised that she had sought a career outside domestic service, thought she had a ridiculously overactive conscience. ‘It wouldn’t work, Poppy. I’m sorry. I wish you well and I’m sorry I can’t help.’

‘Won’t help,’ she slotted in curtly.

‘You’re not my idea of a housekeeper. It’s best that you make a new start somewhere else with your family,’ he declared.

No, he definitely didn’t want Poppy with her incredibly alluring legs in his house, even though he didn’t visit it very often. She would be a dangerous temptation and he was determined that he would never go there. Never muck around with staff was a maxim etched in stone in Gaetano’s personal commandments. When a former PA had thrown herself at him one evening early in his career he had slept with her. For him it had been a one-night stand on a business trip and nothing more, but she had been far more ambitious and it had ended messily, teaching him that professional relationships should never cross the boundaries into intimacy.

‘It’s not that easy to make a new start,’ Poppy told him tightly. ‘I’m the only one out of the three of us with a job and if I have to move I’ll lose that.’

Gaetano expelled his breath on an impatient hiss. ‘Poppy... I am not going to apologise for the fact that your mother breached her employment contract and plunged me into a scandal. You cannot lay her problems at my door. I have every sympathy for your position and, out of consideration for the years that your family worked here and did an excellent job, I will make a substantial final payment—’

‘Oh, keep your blasted conscience money!’ Poppy flung at him, suddenly losing her temper, her fierce pride stung by his attitude. He thought that she and her mother and her brother were a sad bunch of losers and he was so keen to get them off his property that he was prepared to pay more for the privilege. ‘I don’t want anything from you. I won’t take anything more from you!’

‘Losing your temper is a very bad idea in a situation like this,’ he breathed irritably as she bent down to scoop up her shoes and turned on her heel, her short skirt flaring round her pert behind.

Poppy turned her head, green eyes gleaming like polished jewels. ‘It’s the only thing I’ve got left to lose,’ she contradicted squarely.

Gaetano threw up his hands in a gesture of frustration. ‘Then why the hell are you doing it? Put yourself first and leave your family to sort out their own problems!’

‘Is that what the ruthless, callous banker would do to save his own skin?’ Poppy asked scornfully as she reached the door. ‘Mum and Damien are my family and, yes, they’re very different from me. I take after Dad and I’m strong. They’re not. They crumble in a crisis. Does that mean I love them any less? No, it doesn’t. In fact it probably means I love them more. I love them warts and all and as long as there’s breath in my body I’ll look after them to the best of my ability.’

Gaetano was stunned into silence by her emotive words. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone like that. His parents had been both been weak and fallible in their different ways. His father had chased thrills and his mother had chased money and Gaetano had only learned to despise them for their shallow characters. His parents had not had the capacity to love him and once he had got old enough to understand that he had stopped loving them, ultimately recognising that only his grandparents genuinely cared about him and his well-being. For that reason, the concept of continuing to blindly love seriously flawed personalities and still feel a duty of care towards them genuinely shocked Gaetano, who was infinitely more discerning and demanding of those closest to him. He had seen Poppy Arnold’s strength and he admired it, but he thought she was a complete fool to allow her wants and wishes to be handicapped by the double burden of a drunken mother and a pretty useless kid brother.

He went for a shower, still mulling over the encounter with a feeling of amazement that grew rather than dwindled. Rodolfo Leonetti would have been hugely impressed by Poppy’s speech, he acknowledged grimly. His grandfather, after all, had wasted years striving to advise and support his feckless son and his frivolous daughter-in-law. Rodolfo had overlooked their faults and had compassionately made the best of a bad situation. Gaetano, however, was much tougher than the older man, less patient, less forgiving, less sympathetic. Was that a flaw in him? he wondered for the very first time.

Thinking of how much Rodolfo would have applauded Poppy’s family loyalty, Gaetano reflected equally on her flaws that Rodolfo would have cringed from. Her background was dreadful, the family unpalatable. Mother an alcoholic? Brother a convicted criminal? Poppy’s provocative clothing and use of bad language? And yet wasn’t Poppy Arnold an ordinary girl of the type Rodolfo had always contended would make his grandson a perfect wife?

Having towelled himself dry, Gaetano got into bed naked and lay there, lost in thought. A sudden laugh escaped him as he momentarily allowed himself to imagine his grandfather’s horror if he were to produce a young woman like Poppy as his future wife. Rodolfo was much more of a snob than he would ever be prepared to admit and it was hardly surprising that he should be for the Leonettis had been a family of great wealth and power for hundreds of years. Yet the same man had risked disinheritance when he had married a fisherman’s daughter against his family’s wishes. Gaetano couldn’t imagine that kind of love. He felt no need for that sort of excessive emotion in his life. In fact the very idea of it terrified him and always had.

He didn’t want to get married. Maybe by the time he was in his forties he would have mellowed a little and would feel the need to settle down with a companion. At some point too he should have a child to continue the family line. He flinched from the concept, remembering his father’s temper tantrums and his mother’s tears and nagging whines. Marriage had a bad image with him. Why couldn’t Rodolfo understand and accept that reality? He was just too young for settling down but not too young to take over as CEO of the bank.

The germ of an idea occurred to Gaetano and struck him as weird, so he discarded it, only to take it out again a few minutes later and examine it in greater depth. Suppose he quite deliberately produced a fiancée whom his grandfather would deem wrong for him? In that scenario nobody would be the slightest bit surprised when the engagement was broken off again and Rodolfo would be relieved rather than disappointed. He would see that Gaetano had made an effort to commit to a woman and honour that change accordingly by giving his grandson breathing space for quite some time afterwards. A fake incompatible fiancée could get him off the hook...

In the moonlight piercing the curtains, Gaetano’s lean, darkly handsome features were beginning to form a shadowy smile. Pick an ordinary girl and she would naturally have to be beautiful if his grandfather was to be convinced that his fastidious grandson had fallen for her. Pick a beautiful ordinary girl guaranteed to be an embarrassment in public. Poppy could drop all the profanities she liked, dress like a hooker and tell everybody about her sordid family problems. He wouldn’t even have to prime her to fail in his exclusive world. It was a given that she would be so out of her depth that she would automatically do so.

A sliver of the conscience that Gaetano rarely listened to slunk out to suggest that it would be a little cruel to subject Poppy to such an ordeal merely for the sake of initially satisfying and then hopefully changing his grandfather’s expectations. But then it wouldn’t be a real engagement. She would know from the outset that she was faking it and she would be handsomely paid for her role. Nor would she need to know that he was expecting, no, depending on her to be a social embarrassment to get him out of the engagement again. It would sort of be like Pygmalion in reverse, he reasoned with quiet satisfaction. Pick an ordinary girl, who was an extraordinary beauty and extremely outspoken and hot-tempered... She would be absolutely perfect for his purposes because she would be an accident waiting to happen.

* * *

Poppy barely slept that night. Gaetano had said and done nothing unexpected. Of course he wanted them off his fancy property, out of sight and out of mind! His incredulous attitude to her attachment to her family had appalled her though. And where were they going to go? And how would they live when they got there? She would have to throw them on the tender mercies of the social services. My goodness, would they end up living in one of those homeless hostels? Eating out of a food bank?

She got up early as usual, relishing that quiet time of day before her mother or her brother stirred. Even better it was a sunny morning and she took her coffee out to the tiny square of garden at the back of the building that was her favourite place in the world. Making plants flourish, simply growing things, gave her great pleasure.

A riot of flowers in pots ornamented the tiny paved area with its home-made bench seat that was more than a little rickety. However, her Dad had made that bench and she would never part with it. With the clear blue sky above and birds singing in the trees nearby, she felt guilty for feeling so stressed and unhappy. When she had been a little girl working by her father’s side she had wanted to be a gardener. Assuming that that would inevitably mean one day working for the Leonettis, she had changed her mind, ignorant of the reality that there were a host of training courses and jobs in the horticultural world far from Woodfield Hall that she could have aspired to. Well, so much for her planned escape, she thought heavily. Now that they were being evicted, she didn’t want to leave.

‘Miss Arnold?’ One of Gaetano’s security men looked over the fence at her. ‘Mr Leonetti wants to see you.’

Poppy leapt upright. Had he had second thoughts about his decision? She smoothed down the thin jacket she wore over a black gothic dress. She had expected Gaetano to demand to see her mother again and she had dressed up in her equivalent of armour to tell him that her mother would be incapable of even speaking to him until midday. She walked round the side of the building and headed towards the house.

‘Mr Leonetti is waiting for you at the helicopter.’

So, he was planning to toss a two-minute speech at her and depart, Poppy gathered ruefully. It didn’t sound as though he’d had a change of heart, did it? She followed the path to the helipad at the far side of the hall, identifying Gaetano as the taller man in the small clump of waiting males who included the pilot and Gaetano’s security staff. In a pale grey exquisitely tailored designer suit, his arrogant dark head held high, Gaetano looked like a king, and as she moved towards him he stood there much like a king waiting for her to come to him. So, what was new? Gaetano Leonetti didn’t have a humble bone in his magnificent body. No, no, less of the magnificent, she scolded herself angrily. No way was she going to look admiringly at the male making her and her family homeless, even if he did have just cause!

‘Good morning, Poppy,’ Gaetano drawled, smooth as glass, scanning her appearance in the form-fitting black dress that brushed her knees and what appeared to be combat boots with keen appreciation. The jacket looked as if it belonged to a circus ringmaster and he almost smiled at the prospect of his grandfather’s disquiet. Clearly, Poppy always dressed strangely and he could certainly work with that eccentricity. In fact the more eccentricities, the better. And she looked amazingly well in that weird outfit with her freckle-free skin like whipped cream and her hair tumbling in silky bronzed ringlets round her slight shoulders, highlighting her alluring face.

He was not attracted to her, he told himself resolutely. He could appreciate a woman’s looks without wanting to bed her. He wasn’t that basic in his tastes, was he? The incipient throb of a hard-on, however, hinted that he might be a great deal more basic than he wanted to believe. Of course that was acceptable too, Gaetano conceded shrewdly. Rodolfo was no fool and would soon notice any apparent lack of sexual chemistry.

Poppy thought about faking a posh accent like his and abandoned the idea because Gaetano would be slow to see the joke, if he saw one at all. ‘Morning,’ she said lazily in her usual abbreviated style.

‘We’re going out for breakfast since there’s no food in the house,’ Gaetano murmured huskily.

Poppy blinked, catching the flick of censure but too caught up in the positive purr of his deep, slightly accented drawl, which was sending a peculiar little shiver down her taut spine. ‘We?’ she queried belatedly, green eyes opening very wide.

Gaetano noted that her pupils were surrounded by a ring of tawny brown that merely emphasised the bright green of her eyes and said quietly, ‘I have a proposition I want to discuss with you.’

‘A proposition?’ she questioned with a frown.

‘Breakfast,’ Gaetano reminded her and he bent to plant his hands to her hips and swing her up into the helicopter before she could even guess his intention.

‘For breakfast we get into a helicopter?’ Poppy framed in bewilderment.

‘We’re going to a hotel.’

A proposition? Her mind was blank as to what possible suggestions he might be able to put to her in her family’s current predicament and, although she was far from entertained by his virtual kidnapping, she knew she was in no position to tell him to get lost. Even so, Poppy would very much have enjoyed telling Gaetano to get lost. His innate dominant traits set her teeth on edge, not to mention the manner in which he simply assumed that everyone around him would jump to do his bidding without argument. And he was probably right in that assumption, she thought resentfully. He had money, power and influence and she had none of those things.

The craft was so noisy that there was no possibility of conversation during the short flight. Poppy peered down without surprise as the biggest, flashiest country-house hotel in the area appeared below them. Only the very best would do for Gaetano, she thought in exasperation, wishing she’d had some warning of his plan. She had no make-up on and not even a comb with her and wasn’t best pleased to find herself about to enter a very snooty five-star establishment where everyone else, including her host, would be groomed to perfection. And here she was wearing combat boots ready to cycle to the shop for a newspaper.

Deliberately avoiding Gaetano’s extended arms, Poppy jumped down onto the grass. ‘You could’ve warned me about where we were going... I’m not dressed—’

Gaetano dealt her a slow-burning smile, dark golden eyes brilliant in the sunshine. ‘You look fabulous.’

Her mouth ran dry and suddenly she needed a deep breath but somehow couldn’t get sufficient oxygen into her lungs. That shockingly appealing smile...when he had never smiled at her before. Gaetano was as stingy as a miser with his smiles. Why was he suddenly smiling at her? What did he want? What had changed? And why was he telling her that she looked fabulous? Especially when his raised-brow appraisal as she’d approached him at the helipad had told her that he knew about as much about her style as she knew about high finance.

At the door of the hotel they were greeted by the manager as though they were royalty and ushered to the ‘Orangery’ where Gaetano was assured that they would not be disturbed. Had there been a chaise longue, Poppy would have flopped down on it like a Victorian maiden and would have asked Gaetano if he was planning a seduction just to annoy him. But if he had a proposition that might ease her family’s current situation she was more than willing to listen without making cheeky comments, she told herself. Unfortunately, her tongue often ran ahead of her brain, especially around Gaetano, who didn’t have to do much to infuriate her.

CHAPTER THREE

‘THAT...ER...’ POPPY hastily revised the word she had been about to employ for a more tactful one. ‘That remark you made about there being no food in the house... We didn’t know you were coming to the hall,’ she reminded him.

Gaetano watched a waiter pull out a chair for Poppy before taking his own seat. Sunshine was cascading through the windows, transforming her bright hair into a fiery halo. She clutched her menu and ordered chocolate cereal and a hot-chocolate drink. He was astonished that the vast number of menu options had not tempted her into a more adventurous order.

‘The hall is supposed to be kept fully stocked at all times,’ Gaetano reminded her, having ordered.

Poppy shifted in her seat. ‘But this way is much more cost-effective, Gaetano. When I took over from Mum I was chucking out loads of fresh food every week and it hurt me to do it when there are people starving in this world. Until yesterday, someone always phoned to say you’d be visiting, so I cancelled the food deliveries... Oh, yes, and the flowers as well. I’m not into weekly flower arranging. I’ve saved you so much money,’ she told him with pride.

‘I don’t need to save money. I expect the house to always be ready for use,’ Gaetano countered drily.

Poppy gave him a pained look. ‘But it’s so wasteful...’

Gaetano shrugged. He had never thought about that aspect and did not see why he should consider it when he gave millions to charitable causes every year. Convenience and the ability to do as he liked, when he liked, and at short notice, were very important to him, because he rarely took time away from work. ‘I’m not tight with cash,’ he said wryly. ‘If the house isn’t prepared for immediate use, I can’t visit whenever I take the notion.’

Poppy ripped open her small packet of cereal and poured it into the bowl provided. Ignoring the milk on offer, she began to eat the cereal dry with her fingers the way she always ate it. For a split second, Gaetano stared but said nothing. For that same split second she had felt slightly afraid that he might give her a slap across the knuckles for what he deemed to be poor table manners and she flushed pink with chagrin, determined not to alter her behaviour to kowtow to his different expectations. The rich were definitely different, she conceded ruefully.

‘I will eat chocolate any way I can get it,’ she confided nonetheless in partial apology. ‘I don’t like my cereal soggy. Now this proposition you mentioned...’

‘My grandfather wants me to get married before I can become Chief Executive of the Leonetti Bank. As I don’t want to get married, I believe a fake engagement would keep him happy in the short term. It will convince Rodolfo that I am moving in the right direction and assuage his fear that I’m incapable of settling down.’

‘So, why are you telling me this?’ Poppy asked him blankly.

‘I want you to partner me in the fake engagement.’ Gaetano lounged lithely back in his seat to study her reaction.

‘You and me?’ A peal of startled laughter erupted from Poppy’s lush pink mouth beneath Gaetano’s disconcerted gaze. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. No one, but no one, would credit you and me as a couple!’

‘Funny, you didn’t see it as being that amusing when you were a teenager,’ Gaetano derided softly.

‘You are such a bastard!’ Poppy sprang out of her chair, all pretence of cool abandoned as she stalked away from the table. She had never quite contrived to lose that tender, stinging sense of rejection and humiliation even though she knew she was being ridiculous. After all, she had been far too young and naïve for him as well as being the daughter of an employee, and for him to respond in any way, even had he wanted to, would have been inappropriate. But while her brain assured her of those facts, her visceral reaction was at another level.

A few weeks after his rebuff, the annual hall summer picnic had been held and Gaetano had put in his appearance with a girlfriend. Poppy had felt sick when she’d seen that shiny, beautifully dressed and classy girl who might have stepped straight out of a glossy modelling advertisement. She had seen how pathetic it had been to harbour even the smallest hope of ever attracting Gaetano’s interest and as a result of that distress, that horrid feeling of unworthiness and mortification, she had plunged herself into a very unwise situation.

‘Poppy...’ Gaetano murmured wryly, wishing he had left that reminder of the past decently buried.

Poppy spun back to him, eyes wide and accusing. ‘I was sixteen years old, for goodness’ sake, and you were the only fanciable guy in my radius, so it’s hardly surprising that I got a crush on you. It was hormones, nothing else. I wasn’t mature enough to recognise that you were totally the wrong kind of guy for me—’

‘Why?’ Gaetano heard himself demand baldly, although no sooner had he asked than he was questioning why he had.

Poppy was equally surprised by that question. Her colour high, she stared at him, her clear green eyes luminescent in the sunlight. ‘Why? Well, I’ve no doubt you’re a great catch, being both rich and ridiculously good-looking,’ she told him bluntly. ‘You’re a fiercely ambitious high achiever but you don’t have heart. You’re deadly serious and conventional too. We’re complete opposites. People would only pair the two of us together in a comic book. Sorry, I hope I haven’t insulted you in any way. That wasn’t my intention.’

An almost imperceptible line of colour had fired along the exotic slant of Gaetano’s spectacular cheekbones. He felt oddly as though he had been cut down to size and yet he couldn’t fault what she had said because it was all true. There was an electric little silence. He glanced up from below his lashes and saw her standing there in the bright sunshine, her hair a blazing nimbus of red, bronze and gold in the light to give her the look of a fiery angel. Or in that severe black dress, a gothic angel of death? But it didn’t matter because in that strange little instant when time stopped dead, Gaetano, rigid with raw arousal, wanted Poppy Arnold more than he had ever wanted any woman in his life and it gave him the chills like the scent of a good deal going bad. He breathed in slow and deep and looked away from her, battling to regain his logic and cool.

‘I still want you to take on the role of playing my fake fiancée,’ he breathed in a roughened undertone because just looking at her, drinking in that clear creamy skin, those luminous green eyes and that pink succulent mouth, was only making him harder than ever. ‘Rodolfo always wanted me to choose an ordinary girl and you are the only one I know likely to fit the bill.’

Something in the way he was studying her made Poppy’s mouth run dry and her breath hitch in her throat. She was suddenly aware of her body in a way she hadn’t been aware of it in years. In fact, her physical reactions were knocking her right back to the discomfiting level of the infatuated teenager she had once been and that galled her, but the tight, prickling sensation in her breasts and the dampness between her thighs were uniquely memorable testaments to the temptation Gaetano provided. Falling for a very good-looking guy at sixteen and comparing every other man she had met afterwards to his detriment was not to be recommended as a life plan for any sensible woman, she reflected ruefully, ashamed of the fact that she couldn’t treat Gaetano as casually as she treated other men.

‘An ordinary girl?’ she questioned with pleated brows, returning to the table to succumb to the allure of the melted marshmallows topping her hot chocolate. While she sipped, Gaetano filled her in on his grandfather’s fond hopes for his future.

Poppy almost found herself laughing again. Gaetano would never genuinely want an ordinary girl and no ordinary girl would be able to cope with his essentially cold heart.

‘So, why me?’ she pressed.

‘You’re beautiful enough to convince him that I could be tempted by you—’

Guileless green eyes assailed his. ‘Am I?’

‘Yes, you’re beautiful but, no, I’m not tempted,’ Gaetano declared with stubborn conviction. ‘When I say fake engagement I mean fake in every way. I will not be touching you.’

Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t let you. I’m very, very picky, Gaetano.’

Gaetano resisted the urge to toss up the name of that young estate worker she had entertained in the shrubbery. Odd how he had never forgotten those details, he conceded, while recognising that such a crack would be cruelly inappropriate because she was as entitled to have enjoyed sex as any other woman. His perfect white teeth clenched together. He loathed the way Poppy somehow knocked him off-balance, tripping his mind into random thoughts, persuading his usually controlled tongue into making ill-advised remarks, turning him on when he didn’t want to be turned on. Each and every one of those reactions offended Gaetano’s pride in his strength of will.

‘You’ve got to be wondering what would be in this arrangement for you,’ Gaetano intoned quietly. ‘Everything you want and need at present. Rehabilitation treatment for your mother, a fresh start somewhere, a new home for you all as security. I’ll cover the cost of it all if you do this for me, bella mia.’

Straight off, Poppy saw that he was throwing her and her family a lifebelt when they were drowning and for that reason she didn’t voice the refusal already brimming on her lips. Treatment for her mother. You couldn’t put a price on such an offer. It was what she had dreamt about but knew she would never be able to afford.

‘You’ve got to have a selfish bone somewhere in your body,’ Gaetano declared. ‘If you get your mother sorted out you can get your own life back and complete your nursing training, if that is still what you want to do.’

‘I’m not sure I could be convincing as your ordinary-girl fiancée—’

‘We’ll cover that. Leave the worrying to me. I’m a skilled strategist,’ Gaetano murmured, lush black lashes low over his beautiful dark golden eyes.

Her chest swelled as she dragged in a deep breath because really there was no decision to be made. Any attempt to sort out the mess her mother’s life had become was worth a try. ‘Then...where do I sign up?’

She had agreed. Having recognised that Poppy was pretty much between a rock and a hard place, Gaetano was not surprised by her immediate agreement. In his opinion she had much to gain and nothing at all to lose.

‘So...er...’ Poppy began uncertainly. ‘You’ll want me to dress up more...?’

A sudden wolfish smile flashed across Gaetano’s lean, darkly handsome features. ‘No, that’s exactly what I don’t want,’ he assured her. ‘Rodolfo would see straight through you trying to pretend to be something you’re not. I don’t want you to feel the need to change anything—just be yourself.’

‘Myself...’ Poppy repeated a tad dizzily as she collided with shimmering dark golden eyes fringed by those glorious spiky black lashes of his.

‘Be yourself,’ Gaetano stressed, severely disconcerting her because she had expected him to want to change everything about her. ‘My grandfather, like me, respects individuality.’

Poppy wondered how it was then that, even in recent years, she had noticed from reading the papers, and catching a glimpse or two of past companions at the hall, Gaetano’s women all seemed to be formed from the same identikit model. All were small, blonde and blue-eyed arm-clingers, who appeared to have no personality at all in his presence. The sort of women who simpered, hung on his every word and acted super-attentive to their man. No, Gaetano had definitely never struck her as a male likely to appreciate individuality.

‘I would have another request,’ she said daringly. ‘My brother’s a fully qualified mechanic. Find him a job.’

Gaetano frowned. ‘He’s an—’

‘An ex-con. Yes, we are well aware of that, but he needs a proper job before he can hope to rebuild his life,’ she pointed out. ‘I’d be very grateful if there was anything you could do to help Damien.’

Gaetano’s beautifully shaped mouth tightened. ‘You drive a hard bargain. I’ll make enquiries.’

* * *

Almost a full month after that breakfast, Poppy was sitting in the kitchen with her mother. Jasmine was studying her daughter and looking troubled, an expression that had become increasingly frequent on her face as she slowly emerged from the shrouding fog of alcoholic dependency and realised what had been happening in the world around her. Initial assessment followed by several sessions with trained counsellors and medication for her depression had brought about an improvement in Jasmine’s state of mind. The older woman was trying not to drink, not doing very well so far but at least trying, something she had not even been prepared to contemplate just weeks earlier. This very afternoon Poppy and her mother were heading to London where Poppy would join Gaetano and take up her role as a fake fiancée while Jasmine embarked on a residential stay in a top-flight private clinic renowned for its success with patients.

‘I just don’t want to see you get hurt,’ the older woman repeated, squeezing her daughter’s hand. ‘Gaetano is a real box of tricks. I appreciate his help, but I would never fully trust him. He’s too clever and he hasn’t got his granddad’s humanity. I can’t understand what’s in this masquerade for Gaetano—’

‘Climbing the career ladder at the bank—promotion. Seems that Rodolfo Leonetti is a real stick-in-the-mud about Gaetano still being single.’ Poppy sighed, having already been through this dialogue several times with her mother and wishing the subject could simply be dropped.

‘Yes, but how will it benefit Gaetano when your engagement is broken off again?’ Jasmine prompted. ‘That’s the bit I don’t get.’

Poppy didn’t really get it either but kept that to herself. How was she supposed to know what went on in Gaetano’s multifaceted brain? Apart from anything else she’d had hardly any contact with him since that hotel breakfast they’d shared. He had phoned her with instructions and information about arrangements for her mother and travel plans, but he had not returned to the hall. In the meantime, a new housekeeper had moved into Woodfield Hall and Poppy assumed that the giant refrigerator was being kept fully stocked and vases of flowers were now once again decorating the mansion for the owner who never visited. Gaetano had dismissed Poppy’s opinions with an assurance that made it clear that his household arrangements were not and never would be any of her business.

The helicopter picked them up at two in the afternoon. Poppy had packed for both her and her mother, who was being taken to the clinic. Jasmine was nervous and not entirely sober when they boarded and fairly shaky on her legs by the time they landed in London, leaning on her daughter’s arm for support.

Gaetano, however, didn’t even notice Jasmine Arnold. He was too busy watching Poppy stroll towards him with that lithe, lazy walk of hers. She wore black and red plaid leggings and a black tee, her hair falling in wind-tousled curls round her heart-shaped face. He saw other men taking a second glance at her and it annoyed him. She was unusual and it gave her a distinction that he couldn’t quite put a label on but one quality she had in spades and that was sex appeal, he acknowledged grimly, struggling to maintain control of what lay south of his belt. He would get accustomed to her and that response would fade because nothing, not one single intimate thing, was going to take place between them. This was business and he was no soft touch.

The staff member from the clinic designated to pick up Jasmine intercepted Poppy and her mother. The women parted with a hug and tears in their eyes, for the guidelines of Jasmine’s treatment plan had warned that the clinic preferred there to be no contact between their patients and families during the first few weeks of treatment. That was why Poppy’s first view of Gaetano was blurred because she had been watching her mother nervously walk away and, while knowing that she was doing the best thing possible for her troubled parent, she still felt horribly guilty about it.

‘Poppy...’ Gaetano murmured, one of his security men taking immediate charge of her luggage trolley.

His lean, darkly handsome features swam through the glimmer of tears in her wide eyes and sliced right through her detachment. He looked utterly gorgeous, sheathed in designer jeans and a casual white and blue striped shirt that accentuated the glow of his bronzed skin colour. For a split second, Poppy simply stared in search of a flaw in his classically beautiful face. At some stage she stopped breathing without realising it and, connecting with dark golden eyes the same shade as melting honey, she suddenly felt so hot she was vaguely surprised that people didn’t rush up with fire extinguishers to put out the blaze. Her heartbeat thumped as the noise of their surroundings inexplicably ebbed. A little tweaking sensation in her pelvis caused her to shift her feet while her nipples pinched full and tight below her tee.

‘G-Gaetano...’ she stammered, barely able to find her voice as she fought a desperate rearguard reaction to what she belatedly realised was a very dangerous susceptibility to Gaetano’s magnetic attraction.

Gaetano was taking in the tenting prominence of her nipples below her top and idly wondering what colour they were, arousal moving thickly and hungrily through his blood as he studied her lush pink mouth. ‘We’re going straight back to my house,’ he told her brusquely, snapping back to full attention. ‘You’ve got work to do this evening.’

‘Work?’ Poppy parroted in surprise as she fell into step by his side.

‘I’ve made up some prompt sheets for you to cover the sort of details you would be expected to know about me if we were in a genuine relationship,’ he explained. ‘Once you memorise all that we’ll be ready to go tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’ She gasped in dismay because seemingly he wasn’t giving her any time at all to practise her new role or even prepare for it.

‘It’s Rodolfo’s seventy-fifth birthday and he’s throwing an afternoon party. Obviously we will be attending it as an engaged couple,’ Gaetano explained smoothly.

Nerves clenched and twisted in Poppy’s uneasy tummy. She had probably met Rodolfo Leonetti at some stage but she had no memory of the occasion and could only recall seeing him in the distance at the hall when he had still lived there. She had known his late wife, Serafina, well, however, and remembered her clearly. Gaetano’s grandmother had been a lovely woman, who treated everyone the same, be they rich or poor, family or staff. Alongside Jasmine, Serafina had taught Poppy how to bake. Recollecting that, Poppy knew exactly what she would be doing in terms of a gift for the older man’s birthday.

Her cases were stowed in the sleek expensive car Gaetano had brought to the airport. Damien could probably have told her everything about the vehicle because he was a car buff, but Poppy was too busy marvelling that Gaetano had taken the time to come and pick her up personally and that he was actually driving himself.

His phone rang as they left the airport behind. It was in hands-free mode and the voluble burst of Italian that banished the silence in the car only made Poppy feel more out on a limb than ever. She had to toughen up, she told herself firmly, and regain her confidence. Gaetano had given her the equivalent of a high-paid job and she planned to do the best she could to meet his no doubt high expectations but secretly, deep down inside where only she knew how she felt, Poppy was totally terrified of doing something wrong and letting Gaetano down.

Gaetano was so incredibly particular, she reflected absently, recalling the look on his face when she’d eaten her chocolate cereal with her fingers. Even little mistakes would probably irritate Gaetano. He wasn’t tolerant or understanding. No, Poppy knew it wasn’t going to be easy to fake anything to Gaetano’s satisfaction. In fact she reckoned she was in for a long, hard walk down a road strewn with endless obstacles. While the animated dialogue in Italian went on for what seemed a very long time, Poppy looked out at the busy London streets. Once or twice when she glanced in the other direction she noted the aggressive angle of Gaetano’s jaw line that suggested tension and picked up on the hard edge to his dark-timbre drawl and clipped responses.

‘Our goose has been cooked,’ Gaetano breathed curtly when the phone call was over. ‘That was Rodolfo. He wants to meet you now.’

‘Now...like right now, today?’ Poppy exclaimed in dismay.

‘Like right now,’ Gaetano growled. ‘And you’re not ready.’

Poppy’s eyes flashed. ‘And whose fault is that?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You shouldn’t have waited until the last possible moment to clue me up on what I’m supposed to know about you,’ Poppy pointed out without hesitation. ‘Sensible people prepare for anything important more than one day in advance.’

‘Don’t you dare start criticising me!’ Gaetano erupted, sharply disconcerting her as he flashed a look of angry, flaming censure. ‘It’s more than twenty-four hours since I even slept. We’ve had a crisis deal at the bank and this stupid business was the very last thing on my mind.’

‘If it’s so stupid you can forget about it again.’ Poppy proffered that get-out clause stiffly. ‘Don’t mind me. This was, after all, your idea, all your idea.’

‘I can’t forget about it again when I’ve already told Rodolfo I’m engaged!’ Gaetano launched back at her furiously. ‘Whether I like it or not, I’m stuck with you and faking it!’

‘Oh, goody...aren’t I the lucky girl?’ Poppy murmured in a poisonous undertone intended to sting. ‘You’re such a catch, Gaetano. All that money and success but not a single ounce of charm!’

‘Be quiet!’ Gaetano raked at her with incredulity.

‘Go stuff yourself!’ Poppy tossed back fierily as he shot the car to a halt outside a tall town house in a fancy street embellished with a central garden.

‘And you’re stuck with me,’ Gaetano asserted with grim satisfaction as he closed her wrist in a grip of steel to prevent her leaping out of the car. He flipped open the ring box in his other hand and removed the diamond engagement ring to shove it onto her wedding finger with no ceremony whatsoever.

‘Oh, dear...ugly ring alert,’ Poppy snapped, studying the huge diamond solitaire with unappreciative eyes. ‘Of course, it’s one of those fake diamonds...right?’

‘Of course it’s not a fake!’ Gaetano bit out, what little patience he had decimated by lack of sleep and her unexpectedly challenging behaviour.

‘It’s hard to believe that you can spend that much money and end up with something that looks like it fell out of a Christmas cracker.’ Poppy groaned. ‘I can’t go in there, Gaetano.’

‘Get out of the car,’ he urged, leaning across to open the door for her. ‘Of course you can go in there and wing it. Just look all intoxicated with your ring.’

‘Yes, getting drunk in receipt of this non-example of good taste would certainly be understandable.’

‘You’re supposed to be in love with me!’ Gaetano roared at her.

‘Trouble is, you’re about as loveable as a grizzly bear,’ Poppy opined, walking round the bonnet and up onto the pavement. ‘My acting skills may be poor but yours are a great deal worse.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Gaetano squared up to her, six feet four inches of roaring aggression and impatience. ‘It’s time to stop messing about and start acting.’

Poppy lifted a hand and stabbed his broad muscular chest with a combative forefinger. ‘But you said you wanted me to be myself. What exactly do you want, Gaetano?’

‘Porca miseria! I want you to stop driving me insane!’ Gaetano bit out wrathfully, backing her up against the wing of the car, long powerful thighs entrapping her. ‘I will tell you only once. If you can’t do as you’re told you’re out of here!’

‘I’m only just resisting the urge to use some very rude words,’ Poppy warned him, standing her ground with defiant green eyes. ‘This is all your fault. You’ve dragged me here straight from the airport knowing I’m not remotely prepared for this meeting.’

And for Gaetano, whose aggressive need to dominate had emerged in the nursery when he had systematically bullied his first nanny into letting him do pretty much whatever he wanted, that resistance was like a red rag to a bull. Totally unaware of anything beyond the overwhelming desire to touch her while forcing her to do what he wanted her to do, Gaetano snapped an arm round her and kissed her.

His mouth slammed down on hers and it was as if the world stopped dead and then closed round that moment. She was in such a rage with him, it was a reflex reaction for Poppy to close her teeth together, refusing him entry. He shifted against her, all lean, sinuous, powerful male, and the erection she could feel nudging against her stomach sent the most overwhelming awareness shimmying through her like a dangerous drug. The heat and strength of him against her was even more arousing and she unclamped her teeth for him, helpless in the grip of the driving hunger that had captured her and destroyed her opposition.

With a hungry groan, his tongue eased into her mouth and it was without a doubt the most heart-stopping instant of sensation she had ever experienced as his tongue teased and tangled with hers before plunging deep. An ache she had never felt in a man’s arms before hollowed almost painfully at the heart of her and she was pushing instinctively against him even as he urged her back against the car, so that they were welded together so tight a card couldn’t have slid between them. Her arms went round him, massaging up over his wide shoulders before sliding up to lace into his luxuriant black hair and then raking down again over his muscled arms to spread across his taut masculine ass. It was a mindless, addictive, totally visceral embrace.

In an abrupt movement, Gaetano stepped back from her, his breathing audible, sawing in and out of his big chest as if he had run a marathon. Poppy was all over the place mentally and she blinked, literally struggling to return to the real world while fighting a shocking desire to yank him bodily back to her. He was so hot at kissing she was ready to spontaneously combust. He might not have an ounce of charm but when it came to the sex stuff he was out at the front of the field, she decided, a burning blush warming her face as she too worked to get her breath back.

‘Well...that was interesting,’ she remarked shakily, feeling the need to say something, anything that might suggest that she had regained control when she had not.

Gaetano, who never, ever did PDAs with women, was horribly aware of his bodyguards standing by staring as if a little Martian had taken his place. In short, Gaetano was in shock but he also knew that if he had been parked somewhere private he would have had Poppy spread across the bonnet while he plunged into her lithe body hard and fast and sated the appalling level of hunger coursing through his lower body. He ached; he ached so bad he wanted to groan out loud. Dark colour etched the line of his high cheekbones.

‘Let’s go inside,’ he suggested in a driven undertone. ‘Just take your lead from me, bella mia.’

And won’t doing exactly as Gaetano tells you be fun? a little devil enquired inside Poppy’s bemused head. If it had related to kissing, she would have been queuing up, she conceded numbly. Nobody had ever made her feel so much with one kiss. In fact she hadn’t known it was even possible to be that turned on by a man after just one kiss. Gaetano had hidden depths, dark, sexy depths, but she had not the smallest intention of plumbing those depths...

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I SAW YOU ARRIVE,’ Rodolfo Leonetti volunteered, disconcerting his grandson. ‘It looked as though you were having words.’

Poppy almost froze by Gaetano’s side, her discomfiture sweeping through her like a tidal wave. Gaetano’s grandfather didn’t look his age. With his head of wavy grey hair and the upright stature of a much younger man, not to mention a height not far short of Gaetano’s, he still looked strong and vital. He greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks and smiled warmly at her before unleashing that unsettling comment on Gaetano.

‘We were having a row,’ Poppy was taken aback to hear Gaetano admit. ‘Poppy doesn’t like her engagement ring. Perhaps I should have taken her with me to choose it...’

Rodolfo widened his shrewd dark eyes. ‘My grandson left you out of that selection?’

Pink and flustered by the speed with which Gaetano plotted and reacted in a tight corner, Poppy said, ‘I’m afraid so...’ In an uncertain movement she extended her hand for the older man to study the ring.

‘You could see that diamond from outer space,’ Rodolfo remarked, straight-faced.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Poppy hastened to add.

‘Be honest, you hate it,’ Gaetano encouraged, having told the story, clearly happy to go with the flow.

‘It’s too bling for me,’ she murmured dutifully, sinking down into the comfortable seat Rodolfo had indicated. Her nerves were strung so tight that her very face felt stiff with tension. She barely had the awareness to take in the beautiful big reception room, which strongly resembled the splendour of the reception rooms at Woodfield Hall.

‘I was very sorry to hear about your mother’s problems,’ Gaetano’s grandfather said while Poppy was pouring the tea, having been invited to do the hostess thing for the first time in her life. She almost dropped the teapot at Rodolfo’s quietly offered expression of sympathy. Evidently Gaetano had been honest about her mother’s predicament. ‘I’m sure the clinic will help her.’

‘I hope so.’ Poppy compressed her lips as Rodolfo got to his feet and excused himself. As the door swung in his wake, Poppy groaned out loud. ‘I’m no good at this, Gaetano—’

‘You’ll improve. He must’ve seen us kissing. That will have at least made us look like a proper couple,’ he pointed out soft and low. ‘Sometimes not having a script is better.’

‘I would work better from a script.’ She slanted a glance at him, encountering smouldering dark golden eyes, and pink surged into her cheeks.

Rodolfo reappeared and sank back into his seat. He had a small box in his hand, which he opened. ‘This was your grandmother’s ring. As all her jewellery will go to your wife I thought it would be a good idea to let Poppy have a look at Serafina’s engagement ring now.’

Poppy stared in astonished recognition at the fine diamond and ruby cluster on display. ‘I remember your wife taking it off when she was baking,’ she shared quietly. ‘It’s a fabulous ring.’

‘It belongs to you now,’ Rodolfo said with gentle courtesy and the sadness in his creased eyes made her eyes sting.

‘She was a lovely person,’ Poppy whispered shakily.

Gaetano couldn’t credit what he was seeing. His fake fiancée and Rodolfo were having a mutual love-in, full of exchanged glances and sentimental smiles of understanding. His grandfather was sliding his beloved late wife’s ring onto Poppy’s finger as if she were Cinderella having the glass slipper fitted.

‘I believe she would have been happy for you to wear it,’ the old man said fondly, admiring it on Poppy’s hand, the giant diamond solitaire purchased by Gaetano now abandoned on the coffee table.

‘Thank you very much,’ Poppy responded chokily. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

‘And it comes with a very happy history in its back story,’ Rodolfo shared mistily.

Gaetano wanted to groan out loud. He wanted his grandfather to disapprove of Poppy, not welcome her with open arms and start patting her hand while he talked happily about his late wife, Serafina. Of course, a little initial enthusiasm was to be expected, he reasoned shrewdly, and Rodolfo would hardly feel critical in the first fine flush of his approval of the step that Gaetano had taken.

Afternoon tea stretched into dinner, by which time Gaetano was heartily bored with family stories. With admirable tact and patience, however, Poppy had listened with convincing interest to his grandfather recount Leonetti family history. She had much better manners than Gaetano had expected and her easy relaxation with the older man was even more noteworthy because few people relaxed around Rodolfo, who was considerably more clever and ruthless than he appeared. If Poppy had been his real fiancée, Gaetano would have been ecstatic at the warmth of her reception. Indeed one could have been forgiven for thinking that Rodolfo had waited his entire life praying for the joy of seeing his grandson bring the housekeeper’s daughter home and announce that he was planning to marry her. Only when Poppy began smothering yawns did Gaetano’s torture end.

‘Time for us to leave.’ Gaetano tugged a drooping Poppy out of her seat with a powerful hand.

‘Hope we don’t have to go far,’ she mumbled sleepily.

Encountering the older man’s startled glance at his bride-to-be’s ignorance, Gaetano straightened and smiled. ‘She hasn’t been here before,’ he pointed out. ‘I wanted to surprise her.’

‘What surprise?’ Poppy pressed as he walked her out of the drawing room.

‘Rodolfo had an entire wing of this house converted for me to occupy ten years ago,’ he told her, throwing wide a door at the foot of the corridor. ‘All we have to do is walk through a connecting door and we’re in my space.’

And even drowsy as she was it was very obvious to Poppy that Gaetano’s part of the house was a hugely different space. Rich colours, heavy fabrics and polished antiques were replaced by contemporary stone floors, pale colours and plain furniture. It was as distinct as night was to day from his grandfather’s house. ‘Elegant,’ she commented.

‘I’m glad you think so.’ Gaetano showed her upstairs into the master bedroom. ‘This is where we sleep...’

Poppy froze, her brain snapping into gear again. ‘We?’

‘We can’t stay this close to Rodolfo and pretend to be engaged without sharing a room,’ Gaetano fired back at her impatiently. ‘His staff service this place as well as his.’

‘But you didn’t warn me about this!’ Poppy objected. ‘Naturally I assumed you had an apartment somewhere on your own where I’d have my own room.’

‘Well, you can’t have your own room here,’ Gaetano informed her without apology. ‘Doubtless Rodolfo would like to think you’re the vestal-virgin type, but he wouldn’t find it credible that I had asked you to marry me...’

Poppy studied the huge divan sleigh bed and her soft mouth compressed. ‘For goodness’ sake, there’s only one bed...and I’m not sharing it with you!’

‘You have to sleep in here with me. There’s a downside for both of us in this arrangement,’ Gaetano countered grimly.

‘And what’s your downside?’ Poppy asked with interest.

‘Celibacy,’ Gaetano intoned very drily. ‘I can’t risk being seen or associated with any other woman while I’m supposed to be engaged to you.’

‘Oh, dear...’ Poppy commented without an atom of sympathy. ‘From what I’ve read about your usual pursuits in the press, that will be a character-building challenge for you.’

Exasperation laced Gaetano’s lean, darkly handsome features. He would never ever hurt a woman but there were times when he wanted to plunge Poppy head first into a mud bath. ‘There’s a lot of rubbish talked about my private life in the newspapers.’

‘That line might work with one of your socialites, Gaetano...but not with me. I know that party did take place and what happened at it.’

Gaetano fought the urge to defend himself and collided with her witchy green eyes and momentarily forgot what he had been about to say. ‘I’m going for a shower,’ he said instead and began to undress.

Leonetti flesh alert! screamed a little voice in Poppy’s head as Gaetano shed his shirt without inhibition. And why would he be inhibited when he was unveiling a work of art? He was all sleek muscle from the vee above his lean hips to the corrugated muscular flatness of his abdomen and the swelling power of his pectoral muscles. Her mouth ran dry. She might not be the vestal-virgin type but she was a virgin and she had never shared a room with a half-naked male before. That was not information she planned to share with Gaetano, especially as she pretty much blamed him for the reality that she had yet to take that sexual plunge in adulthood.

At sixteen, after his rejection, she had almost decided to have sex with someone else but had realised what she was doing in time and had called a halt before things got out of hand. She wasn’t proud of that episode, well aware that she had acted like a bit of a tease with the boy concerned. Her real lesson had been grasping that going off to have mindless sex with someone else because Gaetano didn’t want her was pathetic and silly. While she was at college doing her nursing training she had had boyfriends and occasional little moments of temptation but nobody had tempted her as much as Gaetano had once tempted her. And Poppy was stubborn and had decided that she would only sleep with someone when she really, really wanted to. She wasn’t going to have sex just because some man expected it of her, nor was she planning to have sex just for the sake of it.

Poppy opened one of her cases and only then appreciated that her luggage had already been unpacked for her. So this was how the rich lived, she thought ruefully, wondering what she was going to use as pyjamas when she didn’t ever wear them because she preferred to sleep naked. She had nothing big enough to cover her decently in mixed company and she rifled through Gaetano’s drawers to borrow a big white tee shirt that was both large and sexless. He might have forgotten that kiss, that terrifying surge of limitless hunger...but she hadn’t and she had no plans to tempt fate.

* * *

Gaetano was thinking about sex in the shower and wondering if Poppy would consider broadening their agreement. He wanted her and she wanted him. To his outlook that was a simple balanced equation and it made sense that they should make the most of each other for the duration of their relationship. It was the practical solution and Gaetano was always practical, particularly when it came to his high sex drive.

A towel knotted round his lean hips, Gaetano trod back into the bedroom. Poppy took one look at all that bronzed skin still sprinkled with drops of water and realised that she wanted to lick him like a postage stamp. With a stifled groan at her own atrocious weakness, she pushed past him and went into the bathroom to get changed.

Gaetano pulled on boxers on the grounds that it never paid to take anything for granted with women and that doing so only annoyed them. Poppy emerged from the bathroom wearing what could only be one of his tee shirts because it hung off her slender frame in loose folds. Even so, it still couldn’t hide the prominent little peaks of her breasts, the womanly curve of her hips or the perfection of the long shapely legs below the hem.

‘I have a suggestion to make,’ Gaetano murmured huskily.

‘Do I want to hear this?’ Poppy wisecracked, pushing back the bedding and scrambling into the bed, feeling her limbs settle into an incredibly soft and supportive mattress that was a far cry from the ancient lumpy bed of her youth. Wearing only silk boxers Gaetano was an outrageously masculine presence and very hard for Poppy to ignore. She was trying to respect his space by not looking at him and hoping he would award her the same courtesy of acting as though she were still fully clothed.

‘We have to pretend to be lovers,’ Gaetano pointed out.

Wondering in what possible direction that statement could be travelling, Poppy prompted, ‘Yes...so?’

‘Why don’t we make it real?’ Gaetano drawled, smooth as melted honey.

Her vocal cords went into arrest and respecting his space suddenly became much too challenging. ‘Real?’ Poppy exclaimed loudly. ‘What exactly do you mean by real?’

‘You’re not that innocent,’ Gaetano assured her lazily as he sprang into bed beside her.

‘So, you’re suggesting that we have sex because you don’t fancy celibacy?’ Poppy enquired, delicate auburn brows raised in disbelief.

‘We are stuck in this situation,’ Gaetano reminded her.

‘I can live without sex,’ Poppy told him tightly, feeling colour climb hotly towards her hairline because even saying ‘sex’ in Gaetano’s presence made her feel horribly self-conscious.

‘I can as well but not happily,’ Gaetano told her bluntly. ‘We’re very attracted to each other. We might as well make the most of it.’

‘Any port in a storm?’ Poppy remarked without amusement. ‘I’m here in the bed and, as you see it, available, so I should be interested?’

Gaetano leant closer, his stubbled jaw line propped on the heel of his upraised hand as he gazed down at her with absolutely gorgeous dark golden eyes. ‘I’m good, bella mia. You wouldn’t be disappointed.’

Poppy was as frozen with fear as a woman facing a hungry cannibal might be. But insidious heat and dampness were welling in the tender place between her thighs, striving to work their wicked seductive magic on her resistance. In fact she could feel her whole body literally wake up, sit up and take notice of Gaetano’s offer. He was offering her what she had once desperately wanted but on terms she could never accept. ‘I don’t want to be used.’

‘I’m surprised you’re so narrow in your outlook. Wouldn’t you be using me to scratch the same itch?’ Gaetano enquired softly.

Her whole face flamed and she flipped over on her side, turning her narrow back defensively on him. Get thee behind me, Satan, she thought helplessly. ‘No, thanks,’ she said chokily, unsure whether she wanted to laugh or cry at his blunt proposition. ‘If I want meaningless sex I imagine I can get it just about anywhere.’

Gaetano stroked a long brown forefinger down her taut spinal cord. ‘Sex with me wouldn’t be meaningless. It would be amazing. You set me on fire, gioia mia.’

Poppy rolled her eyes. He was so slick and full of confidence but that caressing touch lingered with her, lighting up little pockets of melting willingness inside her treacherous body. ‘I’ll keep it in mind. If my itch has to be scratched I will seriously consider you,’ she lied stonily.

‘What more do you want from me?’ Gaetano asked silkily. ‘I’m honest. I’m clean. I don’t lie or cheat.’

‘It doesn’t stop you from being a four-letter word of a man,’ Poppy told him roundly. ‘I thought Italian lovers were supposed to be the last word in seduction. You just turned me off big time.’

‘I was respecting your intelligence by not shooting you a line,’ Gaetano traded with husky amusement that laced through his dark deep drawl in a sexy, accented purr.

Poppy pictured herself flipping over and slapping him so hard his perfect teeth rattled in his too ingenious head. Her own teeth gritted aggressively. Without warning she was also imagining easing back into the hard, allmale heat of him while his arms closed round her and his hips moved against hers. And that sensual imagery was so energising that she felt boiling hot all over. Her nipples swelled and prickled and the heat in her pelvis mushroomed. Her face burned with shame in the darkness. Wanting was wanting, she reasoned with the sexual side of her nature, but it wasn’t enough on its own. Gaetano wasn’t the man for her, she reminded herself doggedly.

‘You know, if you were a nice guy—’

‘When did I ever say I was a nice guy?’ Gaetano cut in sharply.

‘You didn’t,’ Poppy conceded grudgingly, turning over to pick out the powerful silhouette of his head and shoulders in the dim light. ‘But you shouldn’t be thinking about your sex life. Right now you should be worrying more about how your grandfather is going to feel when this engagement falls through. Because he’s making such an effort to be welcoming and accepting of someone like me, I think he’ll be devastated when our relationship comes to nothing.’

‘Allow me to know my own grandfather better than you.’

‘You’re too focused on your career plan to see beyond it. What I saw today was that Rodolfo was incredibly happy about you getting engaged. How could he be anything other than upset when it breaks down?’

Gaetano grimaced and flung his dark head back against the pillows. She didn’t understand. How could she? He could hardly tell her that she was supposed to bomb as a fiancée so that her disappearance from his life again would be more worthy of celebration than disappointment. Time would take care of that problem. After all, she had most likely been on her very best behaviour at her first meeting with his grandfather and sooner rather than later she would probably let herself down.

‘You used to swear a lot,’ he remarked out of the blue.

‘I picked it up at school because everyone used bad language. For a while I did it deliberately because I was being bullied and I was desperate to fit in,’ she confided.

‘Did it make a difference?’

‘No,’ she admitted with a wry laugh. ‘Nothing I wore or did or said could make me cool. Being plump with red hair and living at Woodfield Hall with “those posh bastards” was a supreme provocation to the other pupils.’

‘What did the bullies do?’

Thinking of her getting bullied, Gaetano was experiencing an extraordinary desire to pull her into his arms and comfort her. But he didn’t do comforting. Indeed he was downright unnerved by that perverse impulse and he actually shifted as far away from her as he could get and still be in the same bed.

‘All the usual. Name calling, tripping me up, nasty rumours and messages and texts,’ she recited wearily. ‘I hated school, couldn’t wait to get out of there. Once I was out, I stopped swearing as soon as I realised it offended people.’

He was tempted to tell her that she had never been plump. She had simply developed her womanly curves before she shot up in height. But right then he didn’t want to talk and he didn’t want to think about curves, womanly or otherwise. His hunger for her was making him uncomfortable and that infuriated him because Gaetano had never hungered that much for one particular woman. Beautiful women had always been pretty much interchangeable for him. It was the challenge, he told himself impatiently. He only wanted her because she was saying no. But that simplistic belief didn’t ease his tension in the slightest. It was, he decided grimly, likely to feel like a very long engagement.

* * *

First thing in the morning, Poppy looked amazing, Gaetano conceded hours later, studying her from across the bedroom. Her red hair streamed like a banner across the pale bedding, framing her delicate face and the rosebud pout of her lips. A narrow shoulder protruded from below his slipped tee shirt and the sheet was pushed back to bare one leg from knee to slender ankle. And that easily, that quickly, Gaetano had a hard-on again and gritted his teeth in annoyance. What the hell was it about her? He felt like a man trying to fight an invisible illness!

‘Poppy...?’

She shifted in the bed, lashes fluttering up on luminous green eyes. ‘Gaetano...?’ she whispered drowsily.

‘I left that prompt sheet I meant you to study last night on the desk in my home office. I’ll see you at Rodolfo’s party at three.’

Poppy sat up in a panic. ‘What will I wear?’

‘Your usual clothes. Be yourself,’ he reminded her as he vanished out of the door.

Poppy scrambled out of bed to follow him. ‘Where are you going?’

Gaetano swung round and sent her a pained appraisal. ‘Work...the bank.’

‘Oh...’ Having asked what appeared to be a stupid question, Poppy ducked hastily back into the bedroom and went for a shower while planning her own day.

First of all she had to go and buy the ingredients for her present for Rodolfo’s seventy-fifth. She could only hope that she wasn’t getting it wrong in the gift department. After that she had a rather more pressing need to attend to: finding work for herself. She had just about enough money in her purse to make Rodolfo’s cake but she had nothing more and no savings to fall back on.

The sleek granite-topped kitchen had a fridge packed with food and a very large selection of chocolate cereals that made her smile. Gaetano had remembered her preference. She ate while she studied the prompt sheets he had mentioned. It was like a CV written for a job: qualifications listed, sports pursuits outlined, not a single reference to any memorable moments. He just had no idea of the sort of things that a woman in love would want to know about him, Poppy reflected ruefully. When was his birthday? What was his favourite colour?

She texted him to ask.

Gaetano suppressed a groan when his phone buzzed yet again and lifted it to see what the latest irrelevant question was.

Who was the first woman you fell in love with?

He had never been in love and he was proud of it.

What do you value most in a woman?

Independence, he texted back.

As Poppy walked round the supermarket with her shopping list she raised her brows. If he liked independent women why did he always date clingy airheads? So, she asked that too and they began to argue by text until she was laughing. Gaetano had an image of himself that did not always match reality. She could have told him that he dated clingy airheads because they did as they were told, accepted his workaholic schedule and made few demands.

Noticing a ‘help wanted’ sign in the window of a café she called in, enjoyed an interview on the spot and was hired to work a shift that very evening. Relieved to have solved the problem of being broke, she returned to the town house by the separate entrance at the side and proceeded to mess up Gaetano’s basically unused kitchen with her baking session. She settled the cake into the cake carrier she had bought for the purpose and set the birthday card on top of it before going to get changed.

She wore a tartan skirt with black lace stockings and high heels. Gaetano wolf-whistled the instant he saw her. ‘Wow...’ he breathed with quiet masculine appreciation. ‘Your legs are to die for...’

‘Really?’ Poppy grinned and then frowned doubtfully. ‘Is this phase one of the Italian seduction routine?’

‘You’re very suspicious.’

‘I don’t trust you,’ Poppy told him truthfully. ‘I think being sneaky would come naturally to you.’

‘I’ve never had to be sneaky with women,’ Gaetano told her truthfully.

* * *

The drawing room was crowded with guests when they arrived. The instant Poppy saw the fancy cocktail-type frocks and delicate jewellery that the other women sported and the stares that her informal outfit attracted, she paled in dismay. She stuck out like a sore thumb and hated the feeling, squirming discomfiture taking her by storm and reminding her of her days at school when no matter how hard she’d tried she had always failed to fit in. Remembering that Gaetano had urged her to be herself was not a consolation because her unconventional appearance had to be an embarrassment to him. How could it be anything else?

Gaetano’s grandfather made a major production out of welcoming them and announcing their engagement. Poppy’s guilt over their deception sent colour flying into her cheeks but she saw only satisfaction in Gaetano’s brilliant smile and from it she deduced that everything was going the way he had planned.

But Poppy was wrong in that assumption. She served Rodolfo with the strawberry layer cake with mascarpone-cheese icing that was his favourite and which she had learned to bake at his wife’s side. His eyes went all watery and he gave her an almost boyish grin as he took up the cake knife she passed him and cut himself a large helping.

‘So, when’s the big day?’ he asked Poppy within Gaetano’s hearing.

Gaetano tensed. ‘We haven’t set a date as yet...’

‘You don’t want to risk a treasure like Poppy getting away,’ his grandfather warned him softly, shrewd eyes resting on his grandson’s lean, darkly handsome face. ‘I don’t believe in long engagements.’

‘We don’t want to rush in either,’ Poppy remarked carefully, instinct sending her to Gaetano’s rescue.

‘Next month would be a good time for me before I head off to Italy for the summer,’ Rodolfo pointed out calmly.

‘We’ll talk it over,’ Gaetano fielded smoothly.

‘And when you get back from your honeymoon,’ the old man delivered cheerfully, ‘it will be as CEO.’

Gaetano nodded, thoroughly disconcerted and fighting not to betray the fact that he knew that his promotion was now a marriage step away from him. He studied Poppy from below his black lashes. Against all the odds, Rodolfo adored her. Trust Poppy to bake his grandmother’s signature cake. She couldn’t have done anything more likely to please and impress. She had ticked his grandfather’s every box. Not only was she beautiful, kind and thoughtful, she could actually cook. Gaetano experienced a hideous ‘hoist with his own petard’ sensation and wondered how the hell he was going to climb back out of the hole he had dug.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘WHY ARE YOU in such a hurry?’ Gaetano frowned as Poppy sped away from him towards the bedroom. His grandfather had outmanoeuvred him and he needed to have a serious conversation with his fake fiancée.

‘I have to get changed and get out in the next...er...ten minutes!’ she exclaimed in dismay, hastening her step after checking her watch.

Gaetano took his time about strolling down to the bedroom where Poppy was engaged in pulling on a pair of jeans, lithe long legs topped by a pair of bright red knickers on display. Her face flushing, she half turned away, wriggling her shapely hips to ease up the jeans. The enthusiastic stirring at his groin was uniquely unwelcome to Gaetano at that moment. ‘Where do you have to be in ten minutes?’ he asked quietly.

‘Work. I picked up a waitressing shift at the café round the corner. I’ll be back by midnight,’ she told him chirpily.

In the doorway, Gaetano went rigid, convinced that he could not have heard her correctly. ‘You applied for a job as a waitress...’ his dark deep drawl climbed tellingly in volume and emphasis as he spoke that word ‘...while you’re pretending to be engaged to me?’

‘Why not? Bartending is better paid but the café was closer and the hours are casual and flexible and that would probably suit you better.’

Brilliant dark eyes landed on her with the chilling effect of an ice bath. ‘You working as a waitress doesn’t suit me in any way.’

‘I don’t see why you should object,’ Poppy reasoned, thrusting her feet into her comfy ankle boots. ‘I mean, you’re still working and what am I supposed to do with myself while you’re busy all day? It’s not even as if pretending to be your fiancée is a full-time job.’

‘As far as I’m concerned, it is full-time and you will go to the café now and tell them that you’re sorry but you won’t be working there tonight,’ Gaetano told her with raking impatience. ‘Diavelos! Do I have to spell every little thing out to you? I’m a billionaire banker. You can’t work in a café or a bar for peanuts while you’re purportedly engaged to me!’

An angry flush had lit up Poppy’s cheeks. ‘Then what am I supposed to do for money?’

‘If you need money, I’ll give it to you,’ Gaetano declared, pulling out his wallet, relieved that the problem could be so easily fixed. But seriously, where was her brain? Working as a waitress while living in a mansion?

Poppy backed away a step and then snaked past him in the doorway to trudge down to the hall. ‘I don’t want your money, Gaetano. I work for my money. I don’t take handouts from anyone.’

‘But I’m the exception to that rule,’ Gaetano slotted in grimly as he followed her with tenacious resolve. ‘While you are engaged to me, you are not allowed to embarrass me by working in a low-paid menial job.’

Outraged by that decree, Poppy whirled round to face him again, the hank of hair from her ponytail falling over her shoulder in a bright colourful stream. ‘Is that a fact?’ she prompted. ‘Well, I’m sorry, you’re out of luck on this one. As far as I’m concerned, any kind of honest work is preferable to living off charity and I don’t care if you think waitressing is menial—’

‘We have a deal!’ Gaetano raked at her with raw bite. ‘You’re breaking it!’

‘At no stage did you ever mention that I would not be able to take paid work,’ Poppy flung back at him in furious denial. ‘So, don’t try to deviously change the rules to suit yourself. I’m sorry if you see me working as a waitress at Carrie’s coffee shop as a major embarrassment. Don’t you have enough status on your own account? Does it really matter what I do? I would remind you that I am an ordinary girl who needs to work to live and that’s not about to change for you or anyone else!’

‘It’s totally unnecessary for you to work...in fact it’s preposterous!’ Gaetano slammed back at her loudly, dark eyes flaring as golden as the heart of a fire now, his anger unconcealed. ‘Particularly when I have already assured you that I will cover your every expense while you are staying in London.’

‘Just as I’ve already told you,’ Poppy proclaimed heatedly, ‘I will not accept money from you. I’m an independent woman and I have my pride. If our positions were reversed, would you want me keeping you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Gaetano roared back, all control of his temper abandoned in the face of her continuing refusal to listen to him and respect his opinion. Never before in his life had a woman opposed him in such a way.

More intimidated than she was prepared to admit or show by the depth of his anger and the sheer size of him towering over her while he gave forth as if he were voicing the Ten Commandments, Poppy brought up her chin. ‘I’m not being ridiculous,’ she countered obstinately. ‘I’m standing up for what I believe in. I don’t want your money. I want my own. And as only a few people know I’m engaged to you, I don’t see how it’s going to embarrass you. Especially as you don’t embarrass that easily.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ he demanded.

Poppy dealt him an accusing look. ‘You should’ve given me some pointers on what to wear at the birthday party. Once I saw how the other women were dressed, I felt stupid.’

Gaetano shrugged. ‘It wasn’t important. I want you to be yourself,’ he repeated dismissively. ‘As for the waitress job—’

‘I’m keeping it!’ Poppy incised, lifting her chin combatively because she was needled by his assurance that being the odd one out in the fashion stakes at the party was something she should simply be able to shrug off. Had that been a rap on the knuckles? Was she oversensitive? Too prone to feeling inadequate?

‘And that’s your last word on the subject?’ Gaetano growled as she yanked open the front side door, which serviced his wing of the house.

‘I’m afraid so,’ Poppy declared before she raced off at speed, pulling the door shut behind her.

‘If you don’t watch out, you’ll lose her,’ a voice said from behind Gaetano.

In consternation, he swung round to focus on his grandfather, who was wedged in the doorway communicating between the two properties. ‘How much of that did you hear?’ Gaetano asked tautly.

‘With this door open I couldn’t help overhearing the last part of your argument,’ Rodolfo Leonetti advanced. ‘I’ll admit to hearing enough to appreciate that my grandson is a hopeless snob. She was correct, Gaetano. There can never be shame in honest work. Your grandmother insisted on selling her father’s fish at a stall until the day she married me.’

‘Your wife was raised on a tiny backward island in a different era. Times have changed,’ Gaetano parried thinly.

Rodolfo laughed with sincere appreciation. ‘Women don’t change that much. Poppy’s not interested in your money. Do you realise how very lucky you are to have found such a woman?’

In silence, Gaetano jerked his aggressive chin in acknowledgement. He was still climbing back down from the dizzy heights of the unholy rage Poppy’s defiance had lit inside him, marvelling at how angry she had made him while being disconcerted by his loss of control. His lean hands flexed into fists before slowly loosening again.

‘And as her temper seems to be as hot as your own it may well take some very nifty moves on your part to keep her,’ his grandfather opined with quiet assurance as he strolled back through the communicating door.

Gaetano struck the wall with a knotted fist and swore long and low beneath his breath. Poppy set his temper off like a rocket, not a problem he had ever had with a woman before. That’s because you date ‘clingy airheads’, a voice chimed in the back of his mind, an exact quote of Poppy’s text that sounded remarkably like her. He gritted his teeth, tension pulling like tight strings in his lean, powerful body to tauten every muscle group. It was stress caused by the lack of sex, he decided abruptly. A wave of relief for that rational explanation for his recent irrational behaviour engulfed him. Gaetano didn’t like anything that he couldn’t understand. Yet Poppy fell into that category and he knew he didn’t dislike her.

* * *

Poppy worked her shift in the café, her mind buzzing like a busy bee throughout. Had she been too hard on Gaetano? It was true that he was a snob but what else could he be after the over-privileged life he had led since birth? But Rodolfo’s clear desire to rush his grandson into marriage had shocked Gaetano and naturally that had put him in a bad mood, she conceded ruefully. Evidently when Gaetano had suggested their fake engagement he had seriously underestimated the extent of his grandfather’s enthusiasm for marrying him off. Only an actual wedding was going to satisfy Rodolfo Leonetti and move Gaetano up the last crucial step of his career ladder. An engagement wasn’t going to achieve that for him, which pretty much meant that everything Gaetano had so far done had been for nothing.

When Poppy finished work, she was astonished to glance out of the window and see Gaetano waiting outside for her. Street light fell on his defined cheekbones, strong nose and stubbled jaw line. One glance at his undeniable hotness and he took her breath away. Why had he come to meet her? Colour washing her face, she pulled her coat out of the back room and waited for the manager to unlock the door for her exit. Gaetano’s gaze, dark, deep-set and pure gold, flamed and he moved forward.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked to fill the tense silence.

‘You can’t walk back to the house on your own at this time of night,’ Gaetano told her.

‘Well, I suppose you would think that way,’ Poppy remarked, inclining her head to acknowledge his bodyguards ranged across the pavement mere yards from them. Gaetano was never ever alone in the way that other ordinary people were alone. ‘Why didn’t you just send one of them to look out for me?’

‘I owed you,’ Gaetano breathed, unlocking the sleek sports car by the kerb. ‘I was out of line earlier.’

‘You get out of line a lot...but that’s the first time you’ve admitted it,’ Poppy said uncertainly.

Gaetano swung in beside her and in the confined space she stared at him, her breath hitching in her throat, heartbeat thumping very loudly in her eardrums. Black-lashed eyes assailed hers and she fell still, her mouth running dry. He lifted a hand, framed her face with spread fingers and kissed her. Her hand braced on a strong masculine thigh as she leant closer, helplessly hungry for that connection and the heat and pressure of his strong sensual mouth on hers. Her body went haywire, all liquid heat and response as his tongue delved and tangled with hers, and a deep quiver thrummed through her slender length. The wanting gripping her was all powerful, racing through her to swell her breasts and ignite a feverish damp heat between her thighs. In a harried movement, Poppy yanked her head back and forced her trembling body back into the passenger seat. ‘What was that for?’ she asked shakily.

‘I have no excuse or reason. I can’t stop wanting to touch you.’

‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this...with us,’ she mumbled accusingly through her swollen lips.

Long brown fingers circled over the top of her knee and roved lazily higher, skating up her inner thigh. ‘Tell me, no,’ Gaetano urged in a harsh undertone.

‘No,’ she framed without conviction, legs involuntarily parting because with every fibre of her being she craved his touch.

‘You’re pushing me off the edge of sanity,’ Gaetano growled, shifting position to claim her mouth again. With little passionate nips and licks and bites he took her mouth in a way it had never been taken and sent hot rivers of excitement rolling into her pelvis.

Long fingers stroked over the taut triangle of fabric stretched tight between her thighs, lingering to circle over her core. A warm tingling sensation of almost unbearable excitement gripped her and she bucked beneath his hand, helplessly, wantonly inviting more. Give me more, her body was screaming, shameless in the grip of that need. The fabric that separated her most sensitive flesh from him was a torment but he made no attempt to remove or circumvent its presence. She ground her hips down on the seat, nipples straining and stiff and prickling, the hunger like a voracious animal clawing for more inside her. That hunger was so terrifyingly strong and her brain felt so befogged with it she shivered, suddenly cold and scared of being overwhelmed.

‘This is not cool,’ Gaetano whispered against her lips. ‘We’re in a car in a public street. This is not cool at all, bella mia.’

‘It’s just lust,’ she tried to say lightly, dismissively, and she tried to summon a laugh but found she couldn’t because there was nothing funny about the power of the physical urges engulfing her or the nasty draining aftermath of blocking and denying those urges.

‘Lust has never made me behave like a randy teenager before,’ Gaetano growled. ‘Around you I have a constant hard-on.’

‘Stop it...stop talking about it!’ Poppy snapped, ramming her trembling hands into the pockets of her flying jacket.

‘That’s impossible when it’s all I can think about.’ With a stifled curse he fired the engine of the car. ‘But we have more important things to discuss.’

‘Yes. Rodolfo called your bluff,’ she breathed heavily, struggling to return to the real world again.

‘That’s not how I would describe what he did. I’ve been mulling it over all evening,’ Gaetano admitted grittily. ‘I’m afraid you hit the target last night when you accused me of ignoring the human dimension. I’m great with figures and strategy, not so good with people. But this afternoon looking at Rodolfo and listening to him talk I saw a man aware of his years and afraid he wouldn’t live long enough to see the next generation. All my adult life I’ve read him wrong. I thought all I had to do to please him was to become a success and be everything my father wasn’t but it wasn’t enough.’

‘How wasn’t it enough?’

‘Rodolfo would have been a much happier man if I’d married straight out of university and given him grandchildren,’ Gaetano breathed wryly.

‘Why regret what you can’t change? Obviously you didn’t meet anyone you wanted to marry.’

‘No, I didn’t want to get married,’ Gaetano contradicted drily. ‘I’ve seen too many of my friends’ marriages failing and my own parents fought like cat and dog.’

Poppy grimaced and said nothing. Gaetano was very literal, very black and white and uncompromising in his outlook. He had probably decided as a teenager that he would not get married and had never revisited the decision. But it did go some way towards explaining why he never seemed to stay very long with any woman because clearly none of his relationships had had the option of a future.

‘At some stage you must have met at least one woman who stood out from the rest?’ she commented.

‘I did...when I was at university. Serena ended up marrying a friend and I was their best man. They divorced last year,’ Gaetano volunteered with rich scorn. ‘When I heard about that, I was relieved I had backed off from her.’

‘That’s very cold and cynical. For all you know you and she could have made a success of marriage,’ Poppy commented tongue in cheek, mad with curiosity to know who Serena had been and whether he still had feelings for her now that she was free. Her face burned because she was so grateful he had not persevered with the wretched woman. She was just then discovering in consternation that she couldn’t bear to think of Gaetano with any other woman, let alone married to one. When had she become that sensitive, that possessive of him? She had no right to feel that way and that she did mortified her. Was this some pitiful hangover from her infatuation with him as a teenager?

As she walked into the hall Gaetano pushed the door open into a dimly lit reception room. ‘Before I went out I ordered supper for us. I thought you’d be hungry because unless you ate while you were working, you missed dinner.’

She was strangely touched that it had even occurred to Gaetano to consider her well-being. But then Poppy wasn’t used to anyone looking out for her. In recent years she had acted as counsellor and carer for her family. Neither her mother nor her brother had ever had the inclination to ask her how she was coping working two jobs or whether she needed anything. Removing her coat, she sank down into a comfy armchair, glancing round at the stylish appointments of the spacious room. An interior designer had probably been employed, she suspected, doubting that such classy chic was attainable in any other way. She poured the tea and filled her plate with sandwiches.

For a few minutes she simply ate to satisfy the gnawing hunger inside her. Only slowly did she let her attention roam back to Gaetano. The black stubble framed his jaw, accentuating the lush curve of his full mouth, and he could work magic with that mouth, she conceded, inwardly squirming at that intimate thought and the longing behind it while ducking her head to evade the cool gold intensity of his gaze. Her body, still taut and tender from feverish arousal, recalled the stroke of his fingers and she tingled, dying inside with chagrin that she had lost her control to that extent.

‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ she prompted in the humming silence.

‘I think you already know,’ Gaetano intoned very drily.

‘You have to decide what to do next,’ Poppy clarified reluctantly, disliking the fact that he read her with such accuracy and refused to allow her to play dumb when it suited her to do so.

After all, so much hung on the coming discussion and it was only natural that she should now be nervous. Of what further use could she be to Gaetano? Their fake engagement was worthless because Rodolfo Leonetti wanted much more than a fake couple could possibly deliver. They couldn’t set a wedding date because they weren’t going to get married. And if she was of no additional value to Gaetano, maybe he wanted her to leave his home and maybe, quite understandably, he would also expect to immediately stop paying the bills for her mother’s treatment at the clinic? A cold trickle of nervous perspiration ran down between Poppy’s breasts and suddenly she was furious with herself for not thinking through what Rodolfo’s declaration would ultimately mean to her and the lives of those who depended on her.

‘I had no problem deciding what to do next. I’m very decisive but unfortunately what I do next is heavily dependent on what you decide to do,’ Gaetano admitted quietly, disconcerting her while his extraordinarily beautiful eyes rested on her full force.

‘What I decide...?’

‘Only a fake fiancée can become a fake bride!’ Gaetano derided, watching her pale.

‘You can’t seriously be suggesting that we carry this masquerade as far as a wedding!’ Poppy exclaimed with a look of disbelief.

‘Rodolfo likes you. He’s really excited and happy about our relationship,’ Gaetano breathed grimly. ‘In fact it’s many years since I saw him this enthusiastic about anything or anyone. I would like to give him what he wants even if it’s not real and even though it can’t last.’

‘You love your grandfather. I understand that you don’t want to disappoint him, but—’

‘We could get married for a couple of years while I continue to pay for your mother’s care.’

Poppy leant forward to say sharply, ‘If Mum does well, she will probably be released from the clinic next month.’

Gaetano shook his handsome dark head slowly as if in wonder at her naivety. ‘Poppy... Jasmine is most probably a long-term rehabilitation project. To stay off alcohol for the foreseeable future she’s going to need regular ongoing professional support.’

It was true, Poppy conceded painfully. What Gaetano was saying was true, horribly true, but until that moment Poppy had not thought that far ahead. Indeed she had dreamt only of the day when she hoped and prayed that her newly sober parent would walk out of the clinic and back into the real world. Sadly, however, the real world offered challenges Jasmine Arnold might struggle to handle. And Poppy already knew that she did not have the power to stop her mother drinking because she had already tried that and had failed abysmally.

‘If you agree to marry me I will faithfully promise to take care of your mother’s needs for however long it takes for her to regain her health and sobriety,’ Gaetano swore. ‘At the same time I will make it possible for you to return to further education. That would mean that by the time we divorce you would be in a position to pursue any career you chose.’

Poppy sucked in a steadying breath because he was offering to deliver momentous benefits and security. But she still didn’t want to sell herself out for the money that would empower her to transform her mother’s life and give them both the best possible chance of a decent future. ‘I can’t take your money or your support. It’s immoral,’ she argued jaggedly. ‘Stop trying to tempt me into doing what I know would be wrong.’

‘I’m offering you the equivalent of a job. All right...’ Gaetano shifted an expressive bronzed hand in the air with the fluid arrogance that came as naturally as breathing to him. ‘Taking on the role of being my wife would be an unusual job but it’s not a job you want, so why shouldn’t you be paid for sacrificing your freedom? Because make no mistake—you would be giving up your freedom while you were pretending to be my wife.’

‘Fooling your grandfather, faking and pretending. It wouldn’t be right,’ Poppy protested vehemently.

‘If it makes Rodolfo genuinely happy, why is it wrong?’ Gaetano fired back at her in challenge. ‘It’s the best I’ve got to offer him. I can’t give him the real thing. I can’t give him a real marriage when I don’t want one. Marrying you, a woman he has readily accepted and approved, is as good as it’s likely to get from his point of view.’

Poppy was pale and troubled. ‘You’re good in an argument,’ she allowed ruefully. ‘But I’m never going to win a trophy for my acting skills.’

‘You don’t need to act. Rodolfo likes you as you are. Think about what I’m offering you. You can reclaim your life and return to being a carefree student,’ Gaetano pointed out, his persuasion insidious. ‘No more fretting about your mother falling off the wagon again, no more scrubbing floors or serving drinks.’

‘Shut up!’ Poppy told him curtly, leaping to her feet to walk restively round the room while she battled the tempting possibilities he had placed in front of her.

Gaetano studied her from below heavily lashed eyelids. She would surrender, of course she would. She had had a very tough time coping with her mother over the past couple of years and it had stolen her youthful freedom of choice. As a teenager she had been ambitious and he could still see that spirited spark of wanting more than her servant ancestors had ever wanted glowing within her.

‘And how long would this fake marriage have to last to be worthwhile?’ she demanded without warning.

Gaetano almost grinned and punched the air because that was when he knew for sure that he had won. ‘I estimate around two years with three years being the absolute maximum. By that stage both of us will be eager to reclaim our real lives and I would envisage that divorce proceedings would already have begun.’

‘And you think a divorce a couple of years down the road is less of a disappointment for Rodolfo than a broken engagement?’

‘At least he’ll believe I tried.’

‘And of course your ultimate goal is becoming CEO of the Leonetti Bank and marrying me will deliver that,’ Poppy filled in slowly, luminous green eyes skimming to his lean, darkly handsome features in wonderment. ‘I can’t believe how ambitious you are.’

‘The bank is my life, it always has been,’ Gaetano admitted without apology. ‘Nothing gives me as much of a buzz as a profitable deal.’

‘If I were to agree to this...and I’m not saying I am agreeing,’ Poppy warned in a rush, ‘when would the marriage take place?’

‘Next month to suit Rodolfo’s schedule and, for that matter, my own. I won’t be here much over the next few weeks,’ Gaetano explained. ‘I have a lot of pressing business to tie up before I can take the kind of honeymoon which Rodolfo will expect.’

At that disconcerting reference to a honeymoon a tension headache tightened in a band across Poppy’s brow and she lifted her fingers to press against her forehead. ‘I’m very tired. I’ll sleep on this and give you an answer in the morning.’

Gaetano slid fluidly out of his seat and approached her. ‘But you already know the answer.’

Poppy settled angry green eyes on his lean, strong face. ‘Don’t try to railroad me,’ she warned him.

‘You like what I do to you,’ Gaetano husked with blazing confidence, running a teasing forefinger down over her cheek to stroke it along the soft curve of her full lower lip.

In all her life Poppy had never been more aware of anything than she was of that finger caressing the still-swollen surface of her mouth. But then, as she was learning, Gaetano couldn’t touch any part of her body without every nerve ending standing to attention and screaming for more of the same. Her breathing fractured in her throat and sawed heavily in and out of her chest. His fingertip slid into her mouth and before she could even think about what she was doing she laved it with her tongue, sucked it, watched his brilliant eyes smoulder and then his outrageous long black lashes lower over burning glints of gold.

‘Are you offering to let me have you tonight?’ Gaetano enquired, startling and mortifying her with that direct question.

Her luminous eyes flew wide. ‘I can’t believe you just asked me that!’

‘And I can’t believe that you can still try to act the innocent when you’re teasing me,’ Gaetano riposted.

‘You touched me first,’ she reminded him defensively, her cheeks scarlet as she thought of what she had done with his finger and the expectation he had developed as a result. ‘Are you always this blunt?’

‘Pretty much. Sex requires mutual consent and I naturally dislike confusing signals, which could lead to misunderstandings.’

Poppy stared up at him, momentarily lost in the tawny blaze of his hot stare. He wanted her and he was letting her see it. Her whole body seized up in response, her nipples prickling while that painful hollow ached at the heart of her. She tore her gaze from his, dropped her eyes and then, noticing the sizeable bulge in his jeans, felt pure unashamed heat curling up between her thighs.

‘If you’re not going to let me have you, sleep in one of the spare rooms tonight,’ Gaetano instructed. ‘I’m not a masochist, bella mia.’

‘Spare room,’ Poppy framed shakily, the only words she could get past her tight throat because it hurt her that she wanted to say yes so badly. She didn’t want to be used ‘to scratch an itch’, not her first time anyway. Surely some day somewhere some man would want her for more than that? Gaetano only wanted the release of sex and would probably not have wanted her at all had they not been forced into such proximity.

Gaetano let her reach the door. ‘If I marry you, I’ll expect you to share my bed.’

Wide-eyed, Poppy whirled round to gasp, ‘But...’

‘I’m too well-known to get away with sneaking around having affairs for a couple of years,’ Gaetano asserted silkily. ‘If we get married it should look like a happy marriage, at least at the start, and there’s no way I’d be happy in a sex-free marriage. Is that likely to be a deal-breaker?’

‘I’ll think it over.’ Her heart-shaped face expressionless, Poppy studied the polished floor. She wanted to discover sex with Gaetano but she wasn’t about to confess that to him. That was private, strictly private. Her body burned inside her clothing at the thought of that intimacy. Meaningless, sexual intimacy, she reminded herself doggedly. And it disturbed her that even though she knew it would mean nothing to him she still wanted him...

CHAPTER SIX

POPPY SANK INTO the guest-room bed and rolled over to hug a pillow. She was incredibly tired but so wired she was convinced that she would not sleep a wink.

She was going to marry Gaetano Leonetti. Gorgeous, filthy rich, super-successful Gaetano. Who sent her body into spasms of craving with a single kiss. If she was honest with herself, she really hadn’t needed a night to think it over. He would help her protect her mother and he would support her getting back onto a career path. Really, marrying Gaetano would be win-win whichever way she looked at it, wouldn’t it be?

As long as she didn’t get too carried away and start acting as if it were a real marriage. As long as she didn’t fall for Gaetano. Well, she wasn’t about to do that, was she? He was almost thirty years old and had never been in love. The closest he had come to love was with a woman who had married his friend. And he had acted as best man at their wedding, which didn’t suggest to her that it had been very close to love at all. Gaetano might be planning to marry her but he wasn’t going to love her and he wasn’t going to keep her either. It would be a temporary marriage and it would make Rodolfo happy...at least for a while, she thought guiltily, because faking it for the older man’s benefit still troubled her conscience. He was such a kind, genuine sort of man and so unlike Gaetano, who kept the equivalent of a coffin lid slammed down hard on his emotions.

While Poppy was ruminating over her bridegroom’s lack of emotional intelligence, Gaetano was subjecting himself to yet another cold shower. She had to marry him. There was no alternative. Just at that moment in the grip of a raging inferno of frustrated lust he felt as though he would spontaneously combust if he didn’t get Poppy spread across his bed as the perfect wedding gift. The definitive wedding gift, with those ballerina legs in lace stockings, those pert little breasts in satin cups, that voluptuous pink mouth pouting as she looked up at him with those witchy green spellbinding eyes. He groaned out loud. He couldn’t credit that he had barely touched her when he wanted so much more.

But if they married, a few weeks down the matrimonial road he’d be back to normal, he told himself bracingly. The challenge would be gone. The lust would die once he could have her whenever he wanted her. He would soon be himself again, cooler, calmer, back in control, fully focussed on the bank. How was it possible that just the fantasy of sinking into Poppy’s wet, willing body excited him more than he had ever been excited? What was it about her?

Maybe it was the weird clothes, maybe he had a secret Goth fetish. Maybe it was her argumentative nature, because he had always thrilled to a challenge. Maybe it was her cheeky texts that made him laugh. The fact she could still blush? That was strange. Every time he mentioned sex she went red, as if he had said something outrageous. She couldn’t possibly be that innocent, although he was willing to allow that she might well have considerably less experience between the sheets than he had acquired.

Gaetano shook Poppy awake at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, obstinately and cruelly ignoring her heartfelt moans to insist that she join him for breakfast. After a quick shower and the application of a little make-up, Poppy teamed a black dress enlivened with a red rose print with high heels and sauntered down to the dining room. Gaetano was already ensconced with black coffee, a horrendously unhealthy fry-up and the Financial Times.

She was gloriously conscious of his attention as she helped herself to cereal and took a seat at the other end of the table, her ruby cluster ring catching the light. Gaetano put down the newspaper and regarded her levelly, dark golden eyes steady as a rock and full of an impatience he didn’t need to voice.

‘Yes, I’ll marry you,’ Poppy told him straight off.

‘Does that mean I get to share my bed with you tonight?’ was Gaetano’s first telling question.

‘You are incredibly goal-orientated about entirely the wrong things!’ Poppy censured immediately. ‘You can wait until we’re married.’

‘Nobody waits until they’re married these days!’

‘I haven’t had sex before. I want it to feel special,’ she told him stubbornly.

His expressive dark eyes flared with incredulity. ‘I refuse to credit that. I saw you with Toby Styles...’

‘I hate you!’ Poppy launched at him in a sudden tempest of furious embarrassment, her pale skin flushed to her hairline. ‘Of all the moments I don’t want to be reminded of, you have to bring that one up and throw it at me!’

‘Well, it was one of those unforgettable moments that did seem fairly self-explanatory. I saw you sidling out of the shrubbery covered in blushes and grass stains,’ Gaetano commented with grudging amusement. ‘So, why lie about it? This is purely about sex, bella mia, and I’m all for full bedroom equality. Whether or not you’re a virgin or a secret slut matters not a damn to me.’

Poppy compressed her lips. ‘If you must know—although it’s none of your blasted business—I did plan to have sex that day with Toby but I changed my mind because it wasn’t what I really wanted.’ No, what she had really, really wanted that day, she acknowledged belatedly, was to wander off into the shrubbery and be ravished by Gaetano, who had dominated her every juvenile fantasy. Sadly, however, Gaetano hadn’t been an option.

‘Poor Toby...’ Gaetano frowned.

‘He was very decent about it,’ Poppy muttered in mortification. ‘He’s married to one of my friends now.’

‘But there must have been someone since then?’

‘No.’

Gaetano continued to stare at her as if she were a circus freak. ‘But you’re so full of passion...’

Only with you. The words remained unspoken.

Gaetano lifted his coffee with a slightly dazed expression in his shrewd gaze. ‘I’ll be the first...really?’

Poppy shrugged a shoulder. ‘But if you think it’s likely to be a turn-off I can always go and look for a one-night stand.’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Gaetano growled.

‘That was a joke.’

‘It’s not a turn-off, simply a surprise,’ Gaetano admitted flatly. ‘OK, I’ll wait until we’re married if it’s so significant to you. But I think you’re making an unnecessary production out of it.’

Her body was all he wanted from her, Poppy interpreted painfully. At least if she was his legal wife, it would feel less demeaning, wouldn’t it?

‘I’ll organise a gynae appointment for you,’ Gaetano continued briskly. ‘Reliable birth control is important. We don’t want any slip-ups in that department when we’re not planning to stay together.’

‘Obviously not,’ she agreed, sipping with determination at her hot-chocolate drink while thinking for the very first time in her life about having a baby. She had always liked children, always assumed that she would become a mother one day, but she reckoned that day lay a long way ahead in her future.

‘And whatever you do,’ Gaetano warned with chilling precision, ‘don’t go falling for me.’

‘And why would I do that?’ Poppy demanded baldly, her cheeks hotter than hell in fear of him mentioning that so mortifying teenaged crush again. ‘Having sex with you is not going to make me fall in love with you. I know you think you’re fantastic in bed, Gaetano, but you’re not fantastic enough out of bed.’

Infuriatingly, Gaetano did not react badly to that criticism. ‘That’s good because that’s one complication I can do without. I hate it when women fall for me and make me feel that it’s my fault.’

Well, that was frank, and forewarned was forearmed, Poppy told herself squarely. ‘It’s probably your money they’re falling for,’ she suggested in a tone of saccharine sweetness. ‘You have yet to show me a single loveable trait.’

‘Grazie al cielo...thank goodness,’ Gaetano responded in a tone of galling relief. ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me or this marriage.’

‘I won’t. This marriage will be like one of those business mergers. You are so safe,’ Poppy declared brightly. ‘You will merely be the first stepping stone on my sexual path.’

Gaetano was taken aback to discover that he didn’t want to think of a string of other men enjoying her along that particular path. In fact it gave him a slightly nauseated sensation in the pit of his stomach. The acknowledgement bemused him and he put it down to the simple fact that as yet he had not enjoyed her either. He was thinking too much about something relatively unimportant, he reflected impatiently. Sex was sex and his wedding night would provide the cure for what was currently afflicting him. Since when had he ever attached so much consequence to sex? Even so, it had been entirely right to have the conversation with Poppy to ensure that they perfectly understood each other’s expectations.

‘I’ll make a start on the wedding arrangements today,’ Gaetano completed smoothly.

* * *

‘You look beautiful,’ Jasmine Arnold told her daughter warmly as she emerged from her bedroom in her wedding dress.

The older woman was attending her daughter’s wedding with a member of the clinic support staff. Although Poppy could see a big improvement in her mother’s appearance and mood, she knew how hard it was for Jasmine to return to Woodfield Hall where she had been so depressed. And while Poppy had asked her mother to walk her down the aisle, her brother was doing it instead because Jasmine could not face being the centre of that much attention.

Poppy quite understood the older woman’s reluctance because hundreds of guests were attending the wedding being staged to celebrate Gaetano’s marriage at Woodfield Hall. The Leonetti men had always got married in the church in the grounds of their ancestral home and neither Rodolfo nor Gaetano had seen any reason to flout tradition. Indeed Gaetano had expected Poppy to move straight into the main house as though she already belonged there but Poppy had returned to the small service flat where she had grown up, determined to move back and forth as required.

‘I’m still hoping that you know what you’re doing,’ Damien muttered in an admission intended only for Poppy’s ears as he emerged from his own room, smartly clad in his hired morning suit. He looked relieved when he registered that his mother and her companion had already left for the church. ‘You’ve always had a thing for Gaetano...’

‘As I’ve already explained, this is only a business arrangement.’

‘Maybe it is...for him.’ Her brother sighed. ‘But if it’s only business why are you always checking your phone and texting him?’

‘He expects regular updates on the wedding arrangements.’

‘Yeah...like his staff can’t do that for him,’ Damien responded, unimpressed.

But it was true, Poppy reflected ruefully. Gaetano was hyper about details and had a surprising number of strong opinions about bridal matters that she had mistakenly assumed he wouldn’t be interested in. Although, as he had warned her, she had barely seen him since the month-long countdown to the wedding had begun, they had stayed in constant contact by phone while Gaetano flew round Europe. Poppy had ignored his opinion of the casual job she had taken and had kept up regular shifts at the café.

Now she climbed into the limousine waiting in the courtyard to collect the bride and her brother. The chapel was barely two hundred yards away and she would have much preferred to walk there but Gaetano had vetoed that option, saying it lacked dignity.

In the same way he had vetoed the flowers she’d wanted to wear in her hair and had had a family diamond tiara delivered to her. He had also picked the bridal colour scheme as green, arguing that that particular shade would match her eyes, which had struck Poppy as ridiculously whimsical for so practical a male. And to crown his interference he had acted as though he were her Prince Charming by buying her wedding shoes the instant he saw them showcased in some high-fashion outlet in Milan. Admittedly they were gorgeous, even if they were over-the-top dramatic—delicate leather sandals ornamented with pearls and opals that glimmered and magically shone in the light. In fact Gaetano had embarrassed his bride with his choice of shoes because her selections had been considerably less fanciful. Her dress was cap-sleeved and fitted to the waist, flaring out over net underskirts to stop above her slender knees. In comparison to the Cinderella shoes, the dress, while being composed of beautiful fabric, was plain and simple in style.

‘Are you nervous?’ Damien prompted.

‘Why would I be? Well, only because the Leonettis have invited hundreds of people,’ she admitted.

‘Including most of the estate staff and locals, so you can’t fault Gaetano there. The rich are going to have to rub shoulders with the ordinary folk.’ Damien laughed.

Poppy smiled because Gaetano had kept the last promise he had made before their engagement. Within a week Damien would be starting work as a mechanic in a London garage staffed by other former offenders. Her brother’s happiness at the prospect of a complete new start somewhere he would no longer be pilloried for his past had lifted her heart. Not that her heart needed lifting, she told herself urgently. If her family was happy, she was happy. In stray moments between the wedding arrangements and spending time with Rodolfo, who got lonely in his big empty mansion, she had started looking into the option of training as a garden designer and that gem of an idea looked promising.

Closing her hand into the crook of her brother’s arm, she looked down the aisle to where Gaetano had turned round to see her arrival and she grinned. My goodness, how ridiculous all this pomp and ceremony were for a couple who weren’t remotely in love, she thought helplessly. But Gaetano certainly looked the part of bridegroom, all tall, dark and handsome, black curls cropped to his head in honour of the wedding, the usual stubble round his jaw line dispensed with, his bronzed, handsome features clean-shaven. His dark eyes glittered gold as precious ingots in the sunlight filtered by the stained-glass window behind him. He looked downright amazing, she conceded with a sunny sensation of absolute contentment.

When Poppy came into view, she took Gaetano’s breath away. Her waist looked tiny enough to be spanned by his hands and, as he had requested, her glorious hair tumbled loose round her shoulders in vibrant contrast to the white dress that displayed her incredible legs. And she was wearing the shoes, the shoes he had bought for her, having known at a glance and feeling slightly smug at the knowledge that they were the sort of theatrical feminine touch the unconventional Poppy would appreciate.

The priest rattled through the ceremony at a fair old pace. Rings were exchanged. Poppy trembled as Gaetano eased the ring down over her knuckle, glancing up to encounter smouldering golden eyes that devoured her. Colour surged into her face as she thought of the night ahead but there was anticipation and excitement laced with that faint sense of apprehension. She had decided that she was glad that Gaetano would become her first lover. Who better than the male she had fallen for as a teenager? After all, no other man had yet managed to wipe out her memory of Gaetano. There would be someone else some day, she told herself bracingly as Gaetano retained her hand and his thumb gently massaged the delicate skin of her inner wrist with the understated sensuality that seemed so much a part of him.

‘You made me wait ten minutes at the altar but you were definitely worth waiting for,’ Gaetano quipped as they walked down the aisle again.

‘I warned you I’d be late,’ Poppy reminded him. ‘Knowing you, you’d have preferred to find me waiting humbly for you.’

‘No, waiting naked would have been sufficient, late or otherwise,’ Gaetano whispered only loud enough for her ears. ‘As for humble—are you kidding? You’ve never been the self-effacing type.’

Rodolfo hugged her outside the chapel, his creased face wrinkled into a huge smile. ‘Welcome to the family,’ he said happily.

A beautiful blonde watched with raised brows of apparent surprise as, urged on by the photographer, Poppy wound her arms round Gaetano’s neck and gazed at him as if he were her sun, her moon and her stars. She was great at faking it, she thought appreciatively as Gaetano smiled down at her with that wonderful, charismatic smile that banished the often forbidding austerity from his lean, darkly handsome features.

‘Congratulations, Gaetano,’ the blonde intercepted them as they made their way to the limo to be wafted back to the hall.

‘Poppy...meet Serena Bellingham. We’ll catch up later, Serena,’ Gaetano drawled.

‘Is she the one you almost married?’ Poppy demanded, craning her neck to look back at the smiling blonde who rejoiced in the height, perfect figure and face of a top model.

‘Oh, don’t do it. Don’t make something out of nothing the way women do!’ Gaetano groaned in exasperation. ‘I didn’t almost marry Serena and, even if I did, what business is it of yours? This isn’t a real wedding.’

The colour ebbed from below Poppy’s skin to leave her pale. She felt oddly as though she had been slapped down and squashed and she felt enormously hurt and humiliated but didn’t understand why. But, unquestionably, he was right. Theirs was not a normal wedding and she was not entitled to ask nosy personal questions about exes.

As if he recognised that he had been rude, Gaetano released his breath in a slow measured hiss. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘No, it’s OK. I’m just naturally nosy,’ Poppy muttered in an undertone.

‘Serena is a very talented hedge-fund manager. She may come and work for Leonettis now that she’s single again. Her ex was envious of her success, which is—apparently—the main reason their marriage failed.’

Poppy pictured Serena’s cloyingly bright smile and her tummy performed a warning somersault. It sounded as though Gaetano had spoken to Serena recently to catch up. Confidences had been exchanged and that sent the oddest little current of dismay through Poppy. She suspected that if the beautiful blonde went to work for Gaetano, it wouldn’t entirely be a career move. But even if that was true, what business was it of hers to judge or speculate? She was Gaetano’s wife and soon she would also be Gaetano’s lover yet she had not, it seemed, acquired any relationship rights over Gaetano, which suddenly struck her as a recipe for disaster.

Woodfield Hall was awash with guests and caterers. Jasmine Arnold approached her daughter to ask if it would be all right if she took her leave. Newly sober, Poppy’s mother did not want as yet to be in the vicinity of alcohol. Understanding, Poppy hugged the older woman and they agreed to talk regularly on the phone. As Gaetano joined her Poppy smiled at one of her few school friends, Melanie, who was now married to Toby Styles, the estate gamekeeper.

Overpowered by Gaetano’s presence, the small brunette gushed into speech. ‘You and...er... Mr Leonetti? It’s so romantic, Poppy. You know,’ Melanie said, addressing Gaetano directly, ‘the whole time we were growing up Poppy never had eyes for anyone but you.’

Gaetano responded wittily but Poppy was already trying not to cringe before Toby grinned at her. ‘Nobody knows that better than me,’ he teased.

Kill me now, Poppy thought melodramatically when Gaetano actually laughed out loud and chatted to the couple about their work on the estate as if nothing the slightest bit embarrassing had been shared. And of course, why would it embarrass Gaetano to be reminded of Poppy’s adolescent crush?

As they mingled she noticed Rodolfo chatting to Serena Bellingham. The blonde was wreathed in charming smiles. Poppy scolded herself for thinking bitchy thoughts. And why? Just because Serena had once shared a bed with Gaetano? Just because Serena had the looks, the social background and the education that would have made her the perfect wife for Gaetano? Or because Gaetano had once freely chosen to have a relationship with Serena when he had merely ended up with Poppy by accident and retained her for convenience?

Deliberately catching her eye, Serena strolled over to Poppy’s side. ‘I can see that you’re curious about me,’ she drawled in her cut-glass accent. ‘I’m Gaetano’s only serious ex, so it’s natural...’

‘Possibly,’ Poppy conceded, determined to be very cautious with her words and ashamed of the explosive mixture of inexcusable envy and resentment she was struggling to suppress.

‘We were too young when we first met,’ Serena declared. ‘That’s why we broke up. Gaetano wasn’t ready to commit and I was, so I rushed off and married someone else instead.’

‘Everyone matures at a different rate,’ Poppy remarked non-committally.

‘Maturity is immaterial,’ Serena responded with stinging confidence. ‘You and Gaetano won’t last five minutes. You don’t have anything to offer him.’

Disconcerted by that sudden attack coming at her out of nowhere, Poppy froze. ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’

‘But you’ll do very well for a short-lived first marriage. Gaetano is the last man alive I would expect to stay married to a Goth bride. You don’t fit in and you never will...’

As that bitingly cold forecast hit her Poppy was silenced by Gaetano’s arm closing round her spine. She encountered a suspicious sidewise glance and her temper flared inside her. Evidently, Gaetano was so far removed from the reality of Serena’s barracuda nature that it was Poppy he didn’t trust to behave around Serena. Entrapped there in Gaetano’s controlling hold, Poppy silently seethed and brooded over what Serena had said.

Sadly, the blonde’s assurance that Poppy would never fit in as Gaetano’s wife had cut deep—particularly because Poppy had quite deliberately made conventional choices when it came to what to wear for her wedding day. Why had she done that? she suddenly asked herself angrily. And there it was—the answer she didn’t want. She had done it for Gaetano’s benefit in an effort to please him and make him proud of her, make him appreciate that the housekeeper’s daughter could get it right for a big occasion. Serena’s automatic dismissal of all that Poppy had to offer had seriously hurt and humiliated her.

Fortunately from that point on their wedding day seemed to speed up and race past. Poppy’s throat was sore and she put that down to the amount of talking she had to do. She ate little during the meal even though she was trying to regain the weight she had lost in recent months while she had worked two jobs. Unfortunately her appetite had vanished.

She changed into white cropped trousers and a cool blue chiffon top for their flight to Italy. The luxurious interior of the Leonetti private jet stunned her into silence. She studied the glittering ruby cluster nestling next to the wedding band on her finger and Serena’s wounding forecast of her marriage seemed to reverberate in her ears. You don’t fit in and you never will.

And why should that matter when they didn’t plan to stay married? Poppy asked herself wearily, unsettled by the nagging insecurities tugging at her. Why should she care what Serena thought? Or what Serena truly wanted from Gaetano? She reckoned that Serena was already planning to be Gaetano’s second, rather more permanent wife. So what?

It wasn’t as though she had any feelings for Gaetano beyond tolerance, Poppy reminded herself. Lust was physical, not cerebral.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘STOP... STOP THE CAR!’ Poppy yelled as the Range Rover wound down the twisting Tuscan country road.

Startled, Gaetano jumped on the brake. He frowned in astonishment as Poppy leapt out of the car at speed and assumed that she felt sick. But to his surprise and that of the security men climbing out of the car behind, Poppy ran back down the road and crouched down.

Bloodstains and dust had smeared her white cropped jeans by the time she stood up again cradling something hairy and still in her arms as tenderly as if it were a baby. ‘It’s a dog...it must’ve been hit by a passing car.’

‘Give it to my security. They’ll deal with this,’ Gaetano advised.

‘No, we will,’ Poppy told him. ‘Where’s the closest veterinary surgery?’

The dog, a terrier mix with a pepper and salt coat and a greying snout, licked weakly at her fingers and whined in pain. Fifteen minutes later they were in the waiting room at the local surgery while Gaetano spoke with the vet in Italian.

‘The situation is this...’ Gaetano informed Poppy. ‘The animal is not microchipped, has no collar and has not been reported missing. Arno can operate and I can obviously afford to cover the cost of the treatment but it may be more practical simply to put the animal to sleep.’

‘Practical?’ Poppy erupted.

‘Rather than put the dog through the trauma of surgery and a prolonged recuperation when the local pound is already full, as is the animal rescue sanctuary. If there is no prospect of the dog going to another home—’

‘I’ll keep him,’ Poppy cut in curtly.

Gaetano groaned. ‘Don’t be a bleeding heart for the sake of it.’

‘I’m not. I want Muffin.’

His gorgeous dark eyes widened in surprise, black lashes sky-high. ‘Muffin?’

‘Ragamuffin... Muffin,’ she explained curtly.

‘But I can buy you a beautiful pedigreed puppy if you want one,’ Gaetano murmured with unconcealed incredulity. ‘Muffin is no oil painting and he’s old.’

‘So? He needs me much more than a beautiful puppy ever would,’ Poppy pointed out defiantly. ‘Think of him as a wedding gift.’

Having made arrangements for Muffin’s care, they drove off again.

‘You’ve become so cold-hearted,’ Poppy whispered ruefully, studying his lean dark classic profile. ‘What happened to you?’

‘I grew up. Don’t be a drama queen,’ Gaetano urged. ‘When you care too much you get hurt. I learned that from a young age.’

‘But you’re shutting yourself off from so many good things in life,’ she argued.

‘Am I? Rodolfo enjoyed a long and happy marriage but he was so wretched after my grandmother passed that he too wanted to die.’

‘That was grief. Think of all the happy years he enjoyed with his wife,’ Poppy urged. ‘Everything has a downside, Gaetano. Love brings its own reward.’

Gaetano voiced a single rude word of disagreement in Italian. ‘It didn’t reward my mother when the husband she once adored ran round snorting cocaine with hookers. It didn’t reward me as her son when her super-rich second husband persuaded her to forget that she had left a child behind in England. But you’ll be glad to know that my mother’s second husband loved her,’ Gaetano continued with raw derision. ‘As she explained when she tried to foolishly mend fences with me a few years ago, Connor loved her so much that he was jealous of her first marriage and the child born from it.’

Poppy had paled. ‘That’s a twisted kind of love.’

‘And there’s a lot of that twisted stuff out there,’ Gaetano completed in a chilling tone of finality. ‘That’s why I never wanted anything to do with that kind of emotion.’

Poppy knew when to keep quiet. Of course, his outlook was coloured by his background, she reflected ruefully. Her parents had been happily married but his had not been. And his mother’s decision to turn her back on her son to please her second husband had done even more damage. Poppy had been surprised that Gaetano’s mother had not been invited to the wedding but Rodolfo had simply shrugged, saying only that his former daughter-in-law rarely returned to England.

Gaetano turned off the winding road onto a lane that threaded through silvery olive groves. Woods lay beyond the groves, occasionally parting to show views of rolling green hills and vineyards and an ancient walled hilltop village. Gaetano indicated another track to the left. ‘That leads down to the guest house where Rodolfo spends his summers.’

‘We’ll have to be careful to stay in role with your grandfather staying so close,’ Poppy remarked.

‘La Fattoria, the main house, is over a mile away. He won’t see us unless we visit. He is very keen not to intrude in any way on what he regards as our honeymoon,’ Gaetano said drily.

‘So this property has belonged to your family for a long time,’ she assumed.

‘Rodolfo bought it before I was born, fondly picturing it as the perfect spot for wholesome family holidays with at least half a dozen children running round.’ Gaetano sounded regretful on the older man’s behalf rather than scornful. ‘Sadly I was an only child and my parents only ever came here with parties of friends. The house was signed over to me about five years ago and I had it fully renovated.’

A magnificent building composed of creamy stone appeared round the next corner. It was larger than Poppy had expected but she was learning to think big or bigger when it came to Leonetti properties, for, while the family might only consist of Rodolfo and his one grandson, the older man did not seem to think in terms of small or convenient. Glorious urns of flowers adorned the terrace and a rotund little woman in an apron, closely followed by a tall lanky man, appeared at the front door.

‘Dolores and Sean look after La Fattoria.’ Gaetano introduced the friendly middle-aged Irish couple and their cases were swept away.

Poppy accepted a glass of wine and sat down on the rear terrace to enjoy the stupendous view and catch her breath in the sweltering heat. She was feeling incredibly tired and had tactfully declined Dolores’s invitation to do an immediate tour of the house. Worse still, she was getting a headache and she had an annoying tickle in her sore throat that had made her cough several times and was giving her voice a rough edge. It was just her luck, she thought ruefully. She was on her honeymoon in Tuscany in the most gorgeous setting, with an even more gorgeous man, and she was developing a galloping bad cold.

* * *

The master bedroom was a huge airy space with a tiled floor and a bed as big as a football pitch. The bathroom was fitted out like a glossy magazine spread and she revelled in the wet room with the complex jet system. Everything bore Gaetano’s contemporary stamp and the extreme shower facilities were not a surprise. She had been feeling very warm and the cold water gushing over her before she managed to work out how to operate the complicated controls cooled her off wonderfully. Clad in a light cotton sundress, she wandered back downstairs.

Black hair curling and still damp from the shower, Gaetano joined her on the terrace to slot another glass of wine into her hand. ‘From our own award-winning winery,’ he told her wryly. ‘Rodolfo takes a personal interest in the vineyard.’

Poppy surveyed him from below her lashes. He was so beautiful, she found it a challenge to look anywhere else. His spectacular black-lashed eyes were reflective as he leant gracefully up against a stone pillar support to survey the panoramic landscape, his lithe, lean, powerful body indolently relaxed. A faint shadow of black stubble roughened his strong jaw line, accentuating the wide sensual curve of his mouth. A tiny nerve snaked tight somewhere in her pelvis as she thought of how long it had been since he kissed her and whether a kiss could possibly be as unbelievably good as she remembered it being. Likely not, she told herself, for she had always been a dreamer. How else could she have imagined even as a teenager that Gaetano Leonetti would ever be seriously interested in her?

And yet, here she was, a little voice whispered seductively, Gaetano’s wedding ring on her finger, and mortifyingly that awareness went to her head like the strongest alcohol. But their marriage still wasn’t real; it was still a fantasy, the same little voice added. She had been a fake fiancée and a fake bride and now she was a fake wife. In fact just about the only thing that wouldn’t be fake between them was their wedding night.

The very blood in her veins seemed to be coursing slowly, heavily. She finished her wine and set down the glass, insanely aware of the tightening prominence of her nipples. She lifted the tiny handwritten menu displayed on the table, glancing with a sinking heart through the several courses that were to be served.

‘You know, I’m not remotely hungry and I don’t think I could eat anything,’ Poppy confided truthfully. ‘I hope that’s not going to offend Dolores...’

Gaetano glanced at her, eyes flaming golden as a lion’s in the sunset lighting up the sky in an awesome display of crimson and peach. Mouth suddenly dry, she stopped breathing, frowning as he strode back into the house and disappeared from view. A few minutes later she heard a noisy little car start up somewhere and drive away. Gaetano reappeared to close a hand over hers and tug her gently back indoors.

‘Do we have to eat in some stuffy dining room?’ She sighed.

‘No, we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do,’ Gaetano told her, bending down to lift her up into his arms. ‘I’ve sent Sean and Dolores home. We’re on our own until tomorrow and I am much hungrier for you than for food.’

‘You can’t possibly carry me up those stairs!’ Poppy exclaimed.

‘Right at this moment I could carry you up ten flights of stairs, bellezza mia,’ Gaetano admitted, darting his mouth across her collarbone so that her head fell back to expose her slender white throat and her bright hair cascaded over his arm. ‘Congratulations on being the only woman smart enough to make me wait...’

‘Wait for what? Oh...’ Poppy registered with a wealth of meaning in her tone while distinctly revelling in being carried as though she were a little dainty thing, which, in her own opinion, she was not.

Gaetano settled her down on the bed. Helpfully she kicked off her shoes and wished she had taken a painkiller for her sore throat and head. But she couldn’t possibly take the gloss off the evening by admitting that she was feeling under par, could she? And she would have to admit it to get medication because she had packed nothing of that nature, indeed had only brought her contraceptive pills with her. She wasn’t about to make a fuss about a stupid cold, was she?

He ran down the zip on her dress but only after kissing a path across her bare shoulders and lingering at the nape of her neck where her skin proved to be incredibly sensitive and she quivered, her insides turning to liquid heat beneath his attention.

‘I have died and gone to heaven...’ Gaetano intoned thickly as the dress dropped unnoticed to the carpet, exposing his bride in her ice-blue satin corset top and matching knickers.

‘This is your wedding present,’ Poppy announced, stretching back against the smooth white bedding with a confidence that she had never known she could possess.

Of course it would be different once he started removing stuff and nudity got involved, she conceded ruefully. For now, however, having guessed that Gaetano would be the type of male who found sexy lingerie that enhanced a woman’s figure appealing, Poppy felt like a million dollars. Why? Simply because somehow Gaetano always contrived to look at her as if she had the most amazing female body ever and that had done wonders for her self-image.

‘No, you are my wedding present,’ Gaetano told her with conviction. ‘I’ve been counting down the hours until we were together.’

Her luminous green eyes widened in surprise and she bit back the tactless retort that anyone would consider that a romantic comment. After all, Gaetano was fully focused on sex and neither romance nor commitment would play any part in their marriage. And wasn’t that all she was focused on as well? As Gaetano came down on the bed beside her, his shirt hanging loose and unbuttoned to display a sleek, bronzed, muscular six-pack, Poppy was entranced by the view. He was stunning and, for now, he was hers. Why look beyond that? Why try to complicate things?

Loosening the corset one hook at a time, Gaetano ran a long finger down over the delicate spine he had exposed and then put his mouth there, tracing the line below her smooth ivory skin. ‘You are so beautiful, gioia mia.’

Poppy hid a blissed-out smile behind her tumbling hair and closed her eyes as he eased off the light corset and lifted his hands to cup her breasts. Her back arched, her straining nipples pushing against his fingers until he tugged on the tender buds and an audible gasp escaped her.

Gaetano lifted her and turned her round to face him. ‘I want to be your first,’ he breathed in a roughened undertone. ‘It will be my privilege.’

‘Careful, Gaetano...you’re sounding nice.’ Now outrageously aware of her naked breasts, Poppy crossed her arms to hide them.

‘I may be many things, but nice isn’t one of them,’ Gaetano growled, pulling her down on the bed beside him and covering her pouting mouth hungrily with his own. Unbridled pleasure snaked through her as his tongue merged with hers. An electrifying push of hunger gripped her as his hands shifted to toy with her breasts. He pushed her back against the pillows and lowered his mouth to her pouting nipples.

‘Palest pink like pearls,’ Gaetano mused, stroking a tender tip with appreciation as he gazed down at her.’ I wondered what colour they would be...’

Her green eyes widened. ‘Seriously?’ she prompted.

‘And they’re perfect like the rest of you,’ he groaned, lowering his head to lick a distended crest. ‘You were so worth waiting for at the church.’

Poppy wasn’t quite as pleased as she would have assumed she would be by having that much appreciation directed at her physical attributes. Gaetano was interfering with her fantasy, that fantasy that she had not even acknowledged was playing at the back of her mind, the fantasy in which Gaetano loved her and appreciated her for all sorts of other reasons that went beyond lust.

‘And so were you,’ Poppy told Gaetano, deciding to turn the tables as she sat up to dislodge him and pushed him back against the pillows. He studied her with questioning dark golden eyes semi-veiled by black curling lashes. She spread her fingers across his hard pectoral muscles, stroking down over his sleek ribcage to his flat abdomen.

‘Don’t stop now,’ he husked.

Her fingers were clumsy on his belt buckle and the button on the waistband of his trousers, her knuckles nudging against the little furrow of dark hair that disappeared below his clothing. She reached for the zip. Her lack of expertise was obvious to Gaetano and the oddest sensation of tenderness infiltrated him as he noted the tense self-consciousness etched in her flushed face.

‘Why do I get the feeling this is a first for you?’

‘Everyone is a learner at some stage...’ she framed jerkily.

Gaetano yanked down his zip for himself and then tossed her back flat on the bed again while he divested himself of his trousers and his boxers. ‘If you touched me now, it would all be over far too fast,’ he told her thickly. ‘That’s why I’m going to do most of the touching and you will lie back and let me do the work.’

‘If you think of it as work, I don’t think you should bother.’

‘Nothing would stop me now. I can hardly wait to be inside you.’ Gaetano leant over her, his urgent erection pushing against her hip. ‘Having you in my bed has been my fantasy for weeks.’

‘Fantasy never lives up to reality,’ Poppy said nervously. ‘I don’t want to be a fantasy.’

‘Sorry, it’s my fantasy,’ Gaetano traded, stroking a wondering hand down over the slender curve of her hip to the hot, damp secret at the heart of her.

Her hips jerked and her eyes shut as he traced between her thighs. Her breath snarled in her throat. She was so sensitised that she shuddered when he circled her clitoris with his fingertip. Her whole body was climbing of its own volition into a tight, tense spiral of growing need. Even the brush of a finger against her tight entrance was almost too much to bear. Her hips pushed against the mattress, her heart thumping like thunder inside her chest as he shimmied down the bed, fingertips delicately caressing her inner thighs as he pushed her legs back, opening her.

‘No, you can’t do that!’ she gasped in consternation.

‘Stai zitto...’ he told her softly. ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do in bed.’

The flick of his tongue across torturously tender nerve endings deprived her of voice and then of thought. Her head shifted back and forth on the pillows, the thrum of hunger building up through her body to a siren’s scream of need. She gasped, she cried his name, she moaned, she lost control so completely and utterly that when the explosive release of orgasm claimed her it took her by storm. And the world stopped turning for long minutes, her body still quaking with wondrous aftershocks while Gaetano looked down at her with satisfaction.

As Gaetano tilted her back she felt the smooth steel push of him against her still-throbbing core. The tight knot low in her pelvis made its presence felt again, the hollow ache of hunger stirring afresh. He slid against her, easing into her by degrees, straining her delicate sheath.

‘You’re so tight,’ he groaned, pulling back again and then angling his hips for another, more forceful entrance.

The sharp stinging pain made Poppy flinch for a millisecond and then her body was pushing on past that fleeting discomfort to linger on the satisfying stretch and fullness of his invasion. A little moan broke low in her throat and she moved her hips to luxuriate in the throbbing hardness of his bold masculinity.

Gaetano swore in Italian. ‘You feel like heaven,’ he growled in her ear. ‘Am I hurting you now?’

‘Oh, no,’ she told him truthfully.

And then he moved again, withdrawing and spearing deep enough to wring a cry of startled enjoyment from her. From that moment on her eagerness climbed in tune with Gaetano’s every measured thrust. Her heart raced, her legs clamping round his lean hips as she lifted to him, matching his driving rhythm while the electrifying excitement continued to build. And when she reached that peak for the second time she plunged over it in a fevered delirium of intense quivering release and lay adrift in pleasure.

‘That was amazing,’ Gaetano muttered thickly, rolling over onto his back while curving an arm round her trembling body. ‘You were amazing, bella mia.’

Poppy felt totally exhausted and she was content to lie there in the circle of his arms and marvel at the sublime sense of peace she was experiencing. Belatedly, she acknowledged that her throat and head had now become seriously sore. She hoped that Gaetano wouldn’t catch her cold and felt guilty for not warning him.

In fact she was just about to mention her affliction when Gaetano sat up to say quietly, ‘Possibly part of the reason it felt so amazing was that it was the very first time I’ve had sex bareback.’

‘Bareback?’ she queried.

‘I didn’t use protection. I had a health check a couple of weeks ago to ensure that I’m clean and you’re guarded against pregnancy,’ he reminded her. ‘I couldn’t resist the temptation to try it.’

Poppy made no comment because she knew that he would be ultra-careful with her in the protection stakes because to be careless and risk a pregnancy would come at too high a price for either of them.

‘I’m really hungry now...aren’t you?’ Gaetano admitted, thrusting back the sheet and vacating the bed.

‘Not really, no.’ Indeed the thought of forcing food past her aching throat made her wince. ‘But I could murder a cup of tea.’

‘You’ll have to make it for yourself,’ he warned her. ‘I sent the staff home.’

‘I’ve been making tea for myself since I was a child,’ she told him wryly.

‘I forgot.’ Faint colour enhancing the exotic slant of his cheekbones, Gaetano frowned. ‘Your voice sounds funny...’

‘I’m getting a cold.’ Poppy sighed. ‘I hope you don’t get it too.’

‘I never catch colds.’ Gaetano vanished into the bathroom and a moment later she heard the shower running.

Poppy was so exhausted that she really didn’t want to move, but exhaustion was something she had become practised at shaking off and working through in recent months when she had spent all day cleaning Woodfield Hall and then had stood at the bar serving drinks all evening. Sliding out of bed, she went into the dressing room to pick an outfit and padded off to find another bathroom to use.

Gaetano hadn’t hurt her much, she thought tiredly as she dressed. He had been considerate. He had made it incredibly enjoyable. Why did the knowledge that he had learned how to make sex enjoyable with other women stab her like a knife? She blinked, feeling hot and more than a little dizzy. Clearly she had caught an absolute doozy of a cold but she didn’t want to be a burden by admitting to Gaetano that she felt awful. A good night’s sleep would make her feel much better.

Casually clad in cotton palazzo pants and a tee shirt, she went downstairs, located the kitchen and put on the kettle. She heard Gaetano talking to someone and her brow pleated as she walked to the doorway to see who it was. She almost groaned out loud when she finally realised that he was talking into his phone in tones that sounded angry. As his brilliant dark golden eyes landed on her she froze at the chilling light in his gaze.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, her voice fracturing into roughness.

Gaetano thrust his phone back in the pocket of his jeans and stared at her angrily, almost as if he’d never seen her before. ‘That was Rodolfo calling to warn me about something some tabloid newspaper plans to print tomorrow. One of his old friends in the press tipped him off...’

‘Oh..?’ Poppy heard the kettle switching off behind her and turned away, desperate to ease her sore throat with a hot drink.

Gaetano bit out a sharp, unamused laugh. ‘When were you planning to tell me that you once worked as a nude model?’

Poppy spun back, wide-eyed with astonishment. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘That filthy rag is going to print photos of you naked tomorrow. My wife naked in a newspaper for the world to see!’ Gaetano launched at her in outrage. ‘Madonna diavolo...how could you cheapen yourself like that?’

‘I’ve never worked as a nude model. There couldn’t possibly be photos of me naked anywhere...’ Poppy protested and then she stilled, literally freezing into place, sudden anxiety filling her eyes.

‘Oh, you’ve just remembered doing it, have you?’ Gaetano derided harshly. ‘Well, thanks for warning me. If I’d known I would’ve bought the photos to keep them off the market.’

‘It’s not like you think,’ Poppy began awkwardly, horrified at the idea that illegal shots might have been taken of her at the photographic studio while she was unaware. But what else could she think?

As something akin to an anxiety attack claimed her already overheated body Poppy found it very hard to catch her breath. She dropped dizzily down into the chair by the scrubbed pine table. ‘I’m not feeling well,’ she mumbled apologetically.

‘If you think that feigning illness is likely to get you out of this particular tight corner, it’s not,’ Gaetano asserted in such a temper that he could hardly keep his voice level and his volume under control.

The mere idea of nude photos of Poppy being splashed all over the media provoked a visceral reaction from Gaetano. It offended him deeply. Poppy was his wife and the secrets of her body were his and not for sharing. He wanted to punch walls and tear things apart. He was ablaze with a dark, violent fury that had very little to do with the fact that another scandal around his name would once again drag the proud name of the Leonetti Bank into disrepute. In fact his whole reaction felt disturbingly personal.

‘Not feigning,’ Poppy framed raggedly, pushing her hands down on the table top to rise again.

‘I want the truth. If you had told me about this, I would never have married you,’ Gaetano fired at her without hesitation.

Poppy flopped back down into the seat because her legs refused to support her. She felt really ill and believed she must have caught the flu. He would never have married her had he known about the photo. Who would ever have thought that Gaetano, the notorious womaniser, would be that narrow-minded? And why should she care? And yet she did care. A lone stinging tear trickled from the corner of her eye and once again she tried to get up and leave but she couldn’t catch her breath. It was as though a giant stone were compressing her lungs. In panic at that air deprivation her hands flailed up to her throat, warding off the darkness that was claiming her.

Gaetano gazed in disbelief at Poppy as she virtually slithered off the chair down onto the floor and lay there unconscious, as pale and still as a corpse. And all of a sudden the publication of nude photos of his wife was no longer his most overriding concern...

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘NO, I DON’T think that my wife has an eating disorder,’ Gaetano bit out between gritted teeth in the waiting room.

‘Signora Leonetti is seriously underweight, dehydrated...in generally poor physical condition,’ the doctor outlined disapprovingly. ‘That is why the bacterial infection has gained such a hold on her and why we are still struggling to get her temperature under control. That she contrived to get through a wedding and travel in such a state has to be a miracle.’

‘A miracle...’ Gaetano whispered, sick to his stomach and, for the very first time in his brilliantly successful, high-achieving life, feeling like a failure.

How else could he feel? Poppy had collapsed. His wife was wearing an oxygen mask in the IC unit, having drugs pumped into her. All right, she hadn’t told him how she was feeling but shouldn’t a normal, decent human being have noticed that something was wrong?

Unfortunately he clearly couldn’t claim to be a normal, decent human being. And his analytical mind left him in no doubt of exactly where he had gone wrong. He had been too busy admiring his bride’s tiny waist to register that she was dangerously thin. He had been too busy dragging her off to bed to register that she was unwell. And when she had tried to tell him, what had he done? Porca miseria, he had shouted at her and accused her of feigning illness!

‘May I see her now?’ he asked thickly.

He stood at the foot of the bed looking at Poppy through fresh eyes, rigorously blocking the sexual allure that screwed with his brain. Ironically she had always impressed him as being so lively, energetic and opinionated that he had instinctively endowed her with a glowing health that she did not possess. Now that she was silent and lying there so still, he could see how vulnerable she really was. It was etched in the fine bones of her face, the slenderness of her arms, the exhaustion he could clearly see in the bluish shadows below her eyes.

And what else would she be but exhausted? he asked himself grimly. For months she had worked two jobs, managing the hall and working at the bar. She had been so busy looking after her mother and her brother that she had forgotten to look after herself. He suspected that she had got out of the habit then of taking regular meals and rest. And even when both food and rest had been on offer in London she had still chosen to work every day at that café. In truth she was as much of a workaholic in her proud and stubborn independence as he was, he acknowledged bleakly. He could only hope that he was correct in believing that she did not suffer from an underlying eating disorder.

‘Your grandfather is waiting outside...’ a nurse informed him.

‘There was no need for you to leave your bed,’ Gaetano scolded the older man. ‘I only texted you so that you would know where I was.’

‘How is she?’ Rodolfo asked worriedly.

And Gaetano told him, withholding nothing. ‘I’ve been a pretty lousy husband so far,’ he breathed in grim conclusion, conceding the point before it could be made for him.

‘You have a steep learning curve in front of you.’ His grandfather sighed. ‘But she’s a wonderful girl and well worth the effort. And it’s not where you start out that matters, Gaetano...it’s where you end up.’

Rodolfo could not have been more wrong in that estimate, Gaetano reflected austerely. Where you started out mattered very much if you had previously blocked the road to journey’s end. His marriage was not a marriage and the relationship was already faltering. He had put up a roadblock with the word divorce on it and used that as an excuse to behave badly. He had screwed up. He had been shockingly selfish and with Poppy of all people, Poppy who had trailed round after him and his dog, Dino, on the estate when they were both kids. And what had she been like then?

Like an irritating little kid sister. Kind, madly affectionate, his biggest fan. He exhaled heavily. He had had more compassion as a boy than he had retained as an adult and he had not lived up to Poppy’s high expectations. Worse still, he had taken advantage of her despair over her family’s predicament. He had forced through the terms he wanted, terms she should have denied for her own sake, terms only a complete selfish bastard would have demanded. But it was a little too late to turn that particular clock back.

Was the selfishness a Leonetti trait? His father had been the ultimate egotist and his mother had never in her life, to his knowledge, put anyone’s needs before her own. Had his dysfunctional parents made him the ruthless predator that he was at heart? Or had wealth and success and boundless ambition irrevocably changed him? Gaetano asked himself grimly.

* * *

Poppy surfaced to appreciate that her head had stopped aching. She discovered that she could swallow again and that her breath was no longer trapped in her chest. She opened her eyes on the unfamiliar room, taking in the hospital bed and the drip attached to her arm before focusing on Gaetano, who was hunched in the chair in the corner.

Gaetano looked as if he had been dragged through hell and far removed from the sophisticated, exquisitely groomed image that was the norm for him. His black curls were tousled, his jaw line heavily stubbled. His jacket was missing. His shirt was open at his brown throat and his sleeves were rolled up. As she stared he lifted his head and she collided with glorious dark golden eyes.

Snatches of memory engulfed her in broken bits and pieces. She remembered the passion and the pleasure he had shown her. Then she remembered his fury about the nude photos, his refusal to credit that she was ill. But she remembered nothing after that point.

Gaetano stood up and pressed the bell on the wall. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better than I felt when I fainted...er...did I faint?’

‘You passed out. Next time you feel ill, tell me,’ he breathed with grim urgency.

Poppy grimaced. ‘It was our first night together.’

‘That’s irrelevant. Your health comes first...always,’ he stressed. ‘I’m not a little boy. I can deal with disappointment.’

She was relieved to see that his anger had gone. A nurse came in and went through a series of checks with her.

‘Why did I pass out?’ Poppy asked Gaetano once the nurse had departed.

‘You had an infection and it ran out of control. Your immune system was too weak to fight it off,’ he shared flatly. ‘From here on in you have to take better care of yourself. But first, give me an honest answer to one question...do you have an eating disorder?’

‘No, of course not. I’m naturally skinny...well, I have lost weight over the last few months,’ she conceded grudgingly.

‘You have to eat more,’ Gaetano decreed. ‘No more skipping meals.’

‘I didn’t eat on our wedding day because I wasn’t feeling well,’ she protested.

‘Am I so intimidating that you couldn’t tell me that?’ Gaetano asked, springing restively upright again to pace round the spacious room.

‘Come on, Gaetano. All those guests, all that fuss. What bride would have wanted to be a party pooper?’

‘You should have told me that night,’ Gaetano asserted.

Poppy’s lashes lowered over her strained eyes. ‘You weren’t in the mood to hear that I was ill.’

‘Dio mio! It shouldn’t have mattered how I felt!’

A flush drove away her pallor but she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the bed. ‘We had an agreement.’

‘That’s over, forget about it,’ Gaetano bit out in a raw undertone.

She wondered what he meant and would have questioned him but the doctor arrived and there was no opportunity. Gaetano spoke to the older man at length in Italian. Breakfast arrived on a tray and she ate with appetite, mindful of the doctor’s warning that she needed to regain the weight she had lost. She was smothering a yawn when Gaetano lifted the tray away.

‘Get some sleep,’ he urged. ‘I’m going back to the house to shower and change and bring you back some clothes. As long as you promise to eat and rest, I can take you out of here this evening.’

‘I’m not an invalid...’ Uneasy with his forbidding attitude, Poppy fiddled with her wedding ring, turning it round and round on her finger. ‘What’s happened about the photos you mentioned?’

Gaetano froze and then he reached for the jacket on the chair and withdrew a folded piece of paper. ‘It was a hoax...’

The newspaper cutting depicted a reproduction of a calendar shot headed Miss July. In it Poppy was reclining on a chaise longue with her bare shoulders and long legs on display while a giant floral arrangement was sited to block any more intimate view of her body.

‘I kept my knickers on,’ she told him ruefully. ‘But I had to take my bra off because the straps showed. I was a student nurse on the ladies’ football team. We did the charity calendar to raise funds for the children’s hospice. There was nothing the slightest bit raunchy about the shots. It was all good, clean fun...’

Dark colour now rode along Gaetano’s cheekbones. ‘I know and I accept that. I’m sorry I shouted at you. When Rodolfo showed me that photo in the newspaper I felt like an idiot.’

‘No, you’re not an idiot.’ Just very very possessive in a way Poppy had not expected him to be. My wife, he had growled, outraged by the prospect of anyone else seeing her naked.

‘You have an old-fashioned streak that I never would have guessed you had,’ Poppy remarked tentatively.

‘What is mine is mine and you are mine,’ Gaetano informed her in a gut reaction that took control of him before he could even think about what he was saying.

That gut reaction utterly unnerved him. What the hell was wrong with him? Mine? Since when? Only weeks earlier he would have leapt on the excuse of inappropriate nude photos to break off their supposed engagement. He had not intended to stay engaged to Poppy for very long at all, had actually been depending on her to do or say something dreadful to give him a good reason to reclaim his freedom. How had he travelled from that frame of mind to his current one? All of a sudden she felt like his wife, his real wife. Why was that? Sex had never meant that much to Gaetano and had certainly never opened any doors to deeper connections. But he had wanted Poppy as he had never wanted any woman before and that hunger had triumphed.

Poppy went pink. ‘Not really...’

‘For as long as you wear that ring you’re mine,’ Gaetano qualified.

Poppy hadn’t needed that reminder of her true status, hadn’t sought that more detailed interpretation. Her heart sank and she closed her eyes to shut out his lean, darkly handsome features. It was no good because she still saw his beautiful face in her mind’s eye.

‘Lie down, relax,’ Gaetano urged. ‘You’re exhausted. I’ll be back later.’

You’re mine. But she wasn’t. She was a fake bride and a temporary wife. Casual sex didn’t grant her any status. Suppressing a groan, she shut down her brain on her teeming thoughts and fell asleep.

Late that afternoon, she left the hospital in a wheelchair in spite of her protests. In truth she still felt weak and woozy. Gaetano lifted her out of the chair and stowed her carefully in the passenger seat before joining her.

She was wearing the faded denim sundress Dolores had packed for her.

‘I need to organise new clothes for you,’ Gaetano told her.

‘No, you don’t. When this finishes we go our separate ways and I won’t have any use for fancy threads.’

‘But this isn’t going to finish any time soon,’ Gaetano pointed out softly.

Poppy studied his bold bronzed profile. So far they had enjoyed the honeymoon from hell but he was bearing up well to the challenge. His caring, compassionate husband act was off-the-charts good but she guessed that was purely for Rodolfo’s benefit. They were supposed to be in love, after all, and a loving husband would be upset when his bride fell ill on their wedding day. Lush black lashes curled up as he turned his head to look at her, blue-black hair gleaming in the bright light, spectacular golden eyes wary.

‘What’s wrong?’ he prompted.

‘I should compliment you. You can fake nice to the manner born,’ she quipped.

His wide sensual mouth compressed. For once there was no witty comeback. ‘Dolores is planning to fatten you up on pasta. I also mentioned that you’re passionate about chocolate.’

Chocolate and Gaetano, she corrected inwardly.

She collided with his eyes and hurriedly looked away, struggling not to revel in the sound of his dark, deep, accented drawl and the high she got from the sheer charisma of his smile. Awareness shimmied through her like an electrical storm. Something low in her tummy had turned molten and liquid while her breasts were swelling inside her bra. He had taught her to want him, she thought bitterly, and now the wanting wouldn’t conveniently go away. That hunger was like a slow burn building inside her.

When they returned to La Fattoria, Gaetano insisted that she went straight to bed and dined there. He ignored her declaration that she was feeling well enough to come downstairs and urged her to follow medical advice and rest. A large collection of books and DVDs were delivered mid-evening for her entertainment and although Poppy was tired she deliberately stayed awake waiting for Gaetano to come to bed. She drifted off around one in the morning and wakened to see Gaetano switching out the light and walking back to the door.

‘Where are you going?’ she mumbled.

‘I’m sleeping next door,’ he said wryly.

‘That’s not necessary.’ Poppy had to fight to keep the hurt note out of her voice. She had been looking forward to Gaetano putting his arms around her again and she was disappointed that it wasn’t going to happen.

‘I’m a restless sleeper. I don’t want to disturb you,’ Gaetano countered smoothly.

Poppy’s heart sank as if he had kicked it. Maybe if sex wasn’t on the menu, Gaetano preferred to sleep alone. And why would she argue about that? It was possible that Gaetano had already had all he really wanted from her. She had heard about men who lost sexual interest once the novelty was gone. One night might have been enough for him. Was he that kind of lover? And if he was, what did it matter to her? It wasn’t as if she were about to embarrass herself and chase after him, was it? Why would she do that when their eventual separation and divorce were already set in stone?

So, it didn’t make sense that after he had gone she curled up in the big bed feeling lonely and needy and rejected. Why on earth was she bothered?

* * *

‘You shouldn’t be down here keeping an old man company,’ Rodolfo reproved as Poppy poured his coffee and her own. ‘No cake?’

‘Cinzia’s putting it on a fancy plate to bring it out. You’re getting spoiled,’ Poppy told him fondly, perching on the low wall of the terrace.

His bright dark eyes twinkled. ‘Nothing wrong with being spoiled. You spoil me with your cakes but Gaetano’s supposed to be spoiling you.’

Poppy’s luminous green eyes shadowed. ‘He does but I’ve let him off the honeymoon trail for a few hours to work. It keeps him happy...’

‘You look well,’ Gaetano’s grandfather said approvingly. ‘On your wedding day you looked as though a strong breeze would blow you over, now you look...’

‘Fatter?’ Poppy laughed. ‘You can say it. I’d got too thin and I look better carrying a little more weight. Dolores has been feeding me up like a Christmas turkey.’

Hands banded round her raised knees, Poppy gazed out over the valley, scanning the marching rows of bright green vines. The property referred to as the guest house was a substantial building surrounded by trees and it had a spectacular view. It had always been Rodolfo’s favourite spot and when he had tired of his late son’s constant parties at the main house he had built his own bolt-hole.

Cinzia, who looked after the guest house and its elderly occupant, brought out the lemon drizzle cake that Poppy had baked.

Poppy and Gaetano had been in Tuscany for a whole month, days fleeing past at a speed she could barely register. As soon as she had regained her strength, Gaetano had begun taking her out sightseeing. Her brain was crammed to bursting point by magnificent artworks and architectural wonders. But the memories that lingered were of a rather more personal variety.

Her delicate gold earrings were a gift from Gaetano, purchased from one of the spectacular goldsmiths on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence. In Pisa they had strolled through the magical streets to dine after the daily visitors had left and he had told her that in bright light her red hair reminded him of a gorgeous sunset. In Lucca they had walked the city walls in the leafy shade of the overhanging trees and Gaetano had briefly held her hand to steady her. In Siena she had proved Gaetano wrong when he’d told her that climbing more than four hundred steps to the top of the Torre del Mangia would be too much for her and he had laughed and given her that special heart-stopping smile that somehow always rocked her world. And in the Grotta del Vento he had whipped off his jacket and wrapped it round her when he’d seen her shiver in the coolness of the underground cave system.

Personal memories but not the romantic memories of a newly married couple, Poppy conceded unhappily. There was no sex. There had been no sex since she had taken ill and he refused to take hints. And she refused to count as romantic all the many evenings they had talked long and late at the farmhouse after a beautiful leisurely meal because every evening had ended with them occupying separate beds.

Indeed, Gaetano only got close to her in his grandfather’s presence, clearly as part of his effort to keep up the pretence that they were a normal couple, and then he would close his arms round her, kiss her shoulder or her cheek, act as if he were a touchy-feely loving male even though he wasn’t. His determined detachment often made Poppy want to scream and slap him into a normal reaction. What had happened to the sex-hungry male who couldn’t keep his hands off her?

And while Poppy was lying awake irritating herself by wondering how to tempt Gaetano without being too obvious about it and scolding herself for being so defensive, another bigger worry slowly began to percolate in the back of her mind. At first she had told herself off for being foolish. After all, they had only had sex once and she had conscientiously taken the contraceptive pill from the first day it was prescribed to her. When her period was late she had believed that her illness or even the change of diet or stress could have messed up her menstrual cycle. As the days trickled past her subdued sense of panic had steadily mounted and she was very glad that she was visiting the doctor the following day for an official review following her release from hospital a month earlier. She would ask for a pregnancy test then just to be on the safe side. And of course she would soon realise that she had been foolishly worrying over nothing. There was no way she could possibly be pregnant.

Leaving Rodolfo snoozing in the shade, Poppy clicked her fingers to bring Muffin gambolling to her side as she strolled back to the main house.

Muffin had made a full recovery from his injuries and had been inseparable from Poppy from the day Gaetano had brought him back from the vet’s and settled the little terrier in his wife’s lap. The dog ran ahead as Poppy walked below the trees enjoying the cool shade rather than the heat of late afternoon. She smiled at the colourful glimpses of poppy-and-sunflower-studded fields visible through the gaps between the trees.

Since the wedding she had talked to her mother and brother every week on the phone. Damien was happy in his new job while her mother had renewed contact with Poppy’s aunt, Jess, who had stopped seeing her sister when she became an alcoholic. Now there was talk of Poppy’s mother going to live with her sister in Manchester after she was released.

That idea left Poppy feeling oddly abandoned and she told herself off for her selfishness because it was not as if she herself would be in a position to set up home with her mother any time soon. No, Poppy was very conscious that she had a long, hard haul ahead of her faking being happily married to Gaetano for at least a couple of years. And if she was miserable, well, she accepted that that was her own fault as well. If her emotions made her miserable it was because she had failed to control them. Her craving for Gaetano’s attention had been the first warning sign, missing him in bed after only one night the second. From that point on the warning signs had simply multiplied into a terrifying avalanche.

If Gaetano held her hand, she felt light-headed. If he touched her she lit up inside like a firework. If he smiled her heart soared. Her adolescent crush had grown into something much more dangerous, something she couldn’t control and that occasionally overwhelmed her. She had fallen madly, insanely in love with the husband who wasn’t a husband. It wasn’t fair that Gaetano should be so beautiful that she found intense pleasure in simply looking at him. It was even less fair that he was such entertaining company and had wonderful manners. Nor did it help that he took great pains to ensure that she ate well and rested often, revealing a caring side she had only previously seen in play around his grandfather. It was all a cheat, she kept on telling herself. It was a cheat because he wasn’t available to her in any way even though she loved him.

She loved Gaetano. She was ashamed of that truth when he had warned her not to make that mistake long before he’d even married her. How had she turned out so predictable? It was not as if she believed in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. She was not a dreamer now that she had grown up. She knew that no happy ending awaited her and she would cope as long as she contrived to keep her emotional attachment to herself because she would die a thousand deaths before she allowed Gaetano to even suspect how she felt. He hadn’t asked for love from her and he didn’t want her love. No way was he getting her love for free so that he could pity her.

A fancy sports car that didn’t belong to Gaetano’s collection was parked outside La Fattoria. Poppy smoothed down her exotic black and red sundress, one of the designer garments Gaetano had purchased for her weeks ago. It was cutting-edge style and edgy enough to feel comfortable to her, so she had acquiesced to the new wardrobe, mortified by the suspicion that for her to insist on continuing to wear cheap clothing would embarrass Gaetano. No, he might deserve a kick for seducing her with unforgettable enthusiasm and then stopping that intimacy in its tracks, but she still cringed at the idea of embarrassing him in public.

Gaetano saw his wife from the front window, her show-stopping long legs silhouetted beneath the thin fabric of her dress. It was see-through, and it killed him to see her legs and recall that one indescribably hot night when he had slid between them. Feeling his trousers tighten, he gritted his teeth. The sooner he was out of their marriage and free again, the more normal he would feel.

In truth nothing had felt normal since their wedding. Being around Poppy without being able to touch her was driving him insane. He had a high sex drive and he had never tried to suppress it before. But for the first time in his life with a woman he was trying to do the right thing and it was hurting like a bitch. Poppy deserved more than he had to give. But inexplicably Poppy had got under his skin and since he had laid eyes on her no other woman had attracted him. Although he’d satisfied himself sexually with her, he still desired her, which was a first for him. The thrill of the chase had gone, but the hunger lingered, ever present, ever powerful. There was something about her that affected him differently from other women. She didn’t irritate him, she didn’t make demands, she didn’t care about his money. In the strangest of ways she reminded him of his grandmother, who had been as at home with staff as she was with visitors. Poppy’s easy charm was spread wide and he no longer marvelled that Rodolfo idolised her and the household staff couldn’t do enough for her. Even that ugly little dog was her devoted slave.

‘Sorry... I needed to freshen up,’ Serena announced as she walked back into the drawing room. ‘I got blown to bits. I forgot to tie my hair back before I drove over.’

Gaetano studied the smooth golden veil of Serena’s hair. He had never seen her with a hair out of place. Poppy’s hair got madly tangled, but she didn’t care. It had been wild that night in bed, he recalled, fighting off arousal as he pictured that vibrant mane tumbled across the pillows, her lovely face flushed and full of satisfaction, satisfaction he had given her.

Poppy entered and froze at the sight of Serena. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.’

‘Oh, I’m not company. I’m one of Gaetano’s oldest friends,’ Serena reminded her. ‘How are you, Poppy? I would have called in sooner, but it is your honeymoon, after all.’

‘Are you staying round here?’

‘Didn’t Gaetano tell you that my parents have had a house near here for years and years? We first met at one of his parents’ parties when we were teenagers,’ Serena told her with a golden-girl smile of fond familiarity aimed at Gaetano.

Serena was the wicked witch in the disguise of a beautiful princess, Poppy decided bleakly. Serena knew exactly where to plunge the knife and twist it in another’s woman’s flesh. She loved to boast of how well, how intimately and how long she had known Gaetano. ‘Fancy that,’ she said non-committally.

‘I’m actually here to beg for a favour,’ Serena confided cutely. ‘I met Rodolfo in the village last week and he told me that Gaetano was flying to Paris for a conference tomorrow. May I come too? As you know I’m looking for a new job and I could use the introductions you’d give me.’

‘Of course. I’ll pick you up on the way to the airport,’ Gaetano suggested calmly.

Hell no, Poppy thought, watching Serena look at Gaetano with a teasing girly smile and a shake of her golden head that sent the silken strands tossing round her perfect face. Her teeth ground together.

‘Are you coming too?’ Serena asked Poppy.

But Poppy could see that somehow Serena had already established that Gaetano would be travelling to Paris alone. ‘No, I’m afraid I have an appointment to keep,’ Poppy admitted.

‘I wish you’d agreed to reschedule that. I wanted to accompany you,’ Gaetano reminded her with detectable exasperation.

Poppy wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s only a check-up.’

And she didn’t want him attending the doctor’s surgery with her because she didn’t want him present for the discussion of the pregnancy possibility.

‘I could cancel and come to Paris with you,’ she heard herself offer abruptly, because she really didn’t want Serena getting the chance to be alone with Gaetano.

‘You need to keep that appointment,’ Gaetano countered levelly. ‘In any case, I’ll be back by evening.’

‘I’ll look after him,’ Serena assured her smugly and Poppy wondered unhappily if the other woman somehow sensed that Gaetano’s marriage was not quite normal. Or was it simply that the beautiful blonde could not imagine a male as well educated and sophisticated as Gaetano marrying an ordinary woman without there being some hidden agenda?

She had paled at Serena’s self-satisfaction. Gaetano had not been with a woman in a month. Naturally Poppy didn’t want him on board his private jet with a man-eater like Serena. Serena was already putting out willing and welcome signals as bright as traffic lights. But what could Poppy possibly say to Gaetano to inhibit him in such a marriage as theirs? He didn’t belong to her. She didn’t own him.

There were other ways of holding onto a man’s attention though, she reasoned abstractedly. There was using sex as a weapon, exactly the sort of manipulative behaviour she had looked down on before she fell in love with Gaetano. Now, all of a sudden confronted by Serena studying Gaetano as though he were one of the seven wonders of the world, Poppy’s stance on the moral high ground felt foolish and dangerous. Pride wouldn’t keep her warm at night if Gaetano succumbed to Serena’s advances and embarked on an affair with her. An affair that Poppy suspected would soon be followed by divorce and remarriage because she didn’t believe that Serena would accept being hidden in the background or that Gaetano would resist the chance to acquire a woman who would make a much more suitable wife.

* * *

Gaetano released his breath in a slow hiss when Poppy joined him for dinner in a black halter-necked dress that outlined her lithe, slender figure. His intense dark gaze rested briefly on the taut little buds of her breasts that were clearly defined by the thin fabric and he compressed his lips round his wine glass. Look, don’t touch, he told himself grimly.

‘I’ve been wondering,’ he remarked. ‘What made you choose nursing?’

Surprised by the topic, Poppy lifted and dropped her bare shoulders. ‘I like caring for people. Being needed makes me feel useful.’

‘Your family certainly needed you,’ Gaetano said drily.

The main course was served. After eating in silence for a few minutes Poppy said, ‘I’m thinking of doing something other than nursing when the time comes.’

‘Such as?’ Gaetano prompted impatiently.

‘Gardening,’ she admitted in a defensive tone.

‘Gardening?’ Gaetano repeated with incredulity.

‘I always discounted my interest in growing things because I come from several generations of gardeners. But I suppose it’s in my blood,’ Poppy opined wryly. ‘Of course if I’d ever mentioned it I would have found myself working for your family and I didn’t want that.’

‘I’ve never understood why not. We’re good employers.’

‘Yes, but working on the estate means real old-fashioned service.’

‘And what is bartending but service?’ Gaetano watched her turn to lift her water glass and his attention dropped to the firm, full, pouting curve of her breast revealed by her dress. He shifted tensely in his seat.

‘There’s not that same sense of inequality between employer and employee that there is on the estate. I can’t explain it but I’ve never accepted that you are superior to me simply because you were born into wealth and privilege.’

‘Have I ever made you feel that way?’

Poppy pushed away her plate and stood up. ‘You can’t help it. Your parents raised you like that.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘For a walk—it’s a beautiful evening. I’ll have space for dessert by the time I come back,’ she told Sean, who was hovering to remove their plates.

‘I’ll come too.’ Gaetano sprang upright.

Poppy was as restless as a cat on hot bricks, which was hardly surprising when she had set herself the objective of somehow seducing Gaetano before his flight to Paris. Sadly discussing her career aspirations and the class system wouldn’t get her any closer to him and she wasn’t very deft at flirting. If all else failed, she thought ruefully, she would simply slip into bed with him and pray that his libido cracked his detachment.

‘That’s a daring dress,’ Gaetano observed. ‘The split in the skirt shows me your thighs at every step and I can see the curve and shape of your breasts. Don’t wear it anywhere more public...’

Poppy was relieved that he had actually noticed the provocative outfit because it meant that she wasn’t yet fading into the wallpaper as far as he was concerned. Her high heels crunched through the gravel. A finger danced up her exposed spine like a flame licking at her bare skin and she shivered, snatching in a breath as he flicked the knot at the nape of her neck. ‘If I pulled that loose...’

‘The whole thing would probably fall off,’ she completed.

Gaetano groaned out loud. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

‘I didn’t think you could be tempted any more.’

‘Temptation runs on a continuous loop around you.’

Poppy glanced at him with disbelieving eyes. ‘Then why have you been keeping your distance?’

‘It should’ve been that way from the start, bellezza mia. I was a selfish bastard to insist on sex.’

‘So, tell me something new,’ Poppy invited.

After a moment of telling silence, Gaetano’s stunning dark golden gaze locked to her flushed face in near wonderment at that response before he burst out laughing. ‘Well, that’s telling me...’

‘If you wanted lies you married the wrong girl.’

‘Obviously,’ Gaetano conceded, lounging back against an aged stone pedestal table at the viewpoint where the land fell away to reveal the panoramic landscape beyond the garden. Poppy gazed out at the beautiful countryside, her hair glowing like a live flame against her ivory skin as the sun went down.

‘I’m not being fair to you,’ Poppy muttered with sudden awkwardness. ‘I wanted sex too!’

‘Maybe when we were actually having it but not before,’ Gaetano qualified.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Gaetano... I couldn’t wait to rip your clothes off!’ Poppy flung back at him in exasperation. ‘I didn’t stay a virgin until this age by not knowing what I wanted. I’m not some easily led little rag doll. Stop talking as if you took advantage of a naïve kid!’

‘But I did take advantage of you.’ Gaetano reached out to grip both her hands in emphasis and prevent her from her constant pacing back and forth in front of him. ‘You were a virgin and I’m a natural predator. What I want I take. And I very much wanted you.’

Poppy took a step closer to his lean, powerful body. ‘How much is “very much”?’

He brought her hands down lightly to the revealing bulge at his groin. Her fingertips fluttered appreciatively over the hard jut of his erection and he jerked in surprise at that intimate caress. His golden eyes smouldering with erotic heat, he pulled her up against him and crushed her ripe pink mouth beneath his, his tongue darting and delving deep to send tiny shudders of shocking arousal coursing through her lower body. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs.

‘You’re a tease,’ Gaetano told her darkly.

‘No, I’m a sure thing,’ Poppy contradicted, helpless in the grip of the need throbbing and pulsing through her trembling length.

She felt the sudden give at her neck as he tugged loose the tie of her dress. As the bodice dropped to her waist his hands closed to her hips and he lifted her up onto the stone table before reaching below the skirt to close his hands into the waistband of her lace knickers and yank them down.

‘Out here?’ she whispered, shaken by the concept as he dug her discarded underwear into his pocket with single-minded efficiency.

‘Out here because I couldn’t make it back indoors...and I believe I can promise you a very active night,’ he husked, bending her backwards to capture a rosy nipple between his lips and lash it with his tongue while his fingers stroked and teased the delicate pink folds at her core.

‘I want you,’ she framed jaggedly, her breath strangled in her throat by a responsive gasp as his thumb rubbed over her and then a long finger tested her readiness.

He slid a single digit into her lush opening and her body jackknifed, spine arching, hips lifting off the cold stone surface. And the coldness below her only added to the intense heat punching through her quivering body, steamrollering over her inhibitions and heightening every sensation to an unbearable level.

‘So wet, so tight,’ Gaetano growled, yanking down his zip with a lack of cool that even in the state he was in astounded him. On some level the hunger was so all-consuming that he honestly thought he might die of overexcitement if he didn’t get inside her.

His mouth roved between the straining mounds of her perfect breasts, tugging at the swollen buds, arrowing lower, letting her feel the long, slow glide of his tongue while he pulled her to the edge of the table to position her.

He plunged in and drove the breath from her body with the intensity of his entrance. She whimpered as he stretched her, her body clenching round him like a hot velvet glove.

‘So good,’ Gaetano ground out between gritted teeth as he pulled back and slammed back into her with delicious force.

Poppy couldn’t think, she could only feel and she was riding a torrent of excitement she couldn’t control, her entire being pitched to crave the peak of his every powerful thrust. The heat and the hunger and the pleasure all melded together into one glorious, overwhelming rush of sexual ecstasy. Her climax claimed her in an explosive surge of intense sensation and her teeth bit into his shoulder as the exquisite convulsions shook her violently in his arms.

In the aftermath she was as limp as a floppy doll. He fed her feet back into her underwear, retied her dress and lifted her down to the ground again where she swayed, utterly undone by the sheer primal wildness of their joining.

‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you blew me away,’ she whispered truthfully.

‘You bring out the animal in me, delizia mia,’ he admitted raggedly, pressing his sensual mouth to the top of her down-bent head in what felt like a silent apology.

‘And I like it,’ Poppy admitted shakily. ‘I like it very much.’

‘What the hell have we been playing at, then, for the last few weeks?’ he demanded.

Poppy shot him a teasing glance. ‘You were depriving me of sex. Why, I have no idea.’

But Gaetano was in not in the mood to talk. He was already painfully aware of the lack of logic in his recent behaviour. He couldn’t answer his own questions, never mind explain or defend his decisions to her. He had honestly believed that for once he was doing the honourable thing and that she would appreciate his restraint. Evidently he had got that badly wrong. She was accusing him of depriving her. Diavelos...no doubt it was sexist but he was the one who had felt most deprived. And being deprived of the joy of her body had eased his conscience.

His brooding silence nagged at Poppy’s nerves. Perhaps even though he enjoyed the physical release of her body he had preferred the distance provided by their lack of intimacy. Maybe he was worried she was getting too attached. Maybe she wasn’t as good an actress as she liked to believe.

‘It was just sex, you know,’ she mumbled as lightly as she could. ‘It doesn’t have to mean anything.’

‘I know,’ Gaetano fielded drily while also knowing that he could never, ever have imagined having a wife who would admit that she had just used him for sex.

It felt wrong to him and downright offensive but he was willing to admit that getting married to Poppy and living with her while struggling to stay out of her bed had played merry hell with his values. One hint of encouragement from her and he had shelved honour without a backward glance. In fact he’d been a pushover, he conceded grimly. He craved her like a drug. He was already thinking of early nights, dawn takeovers and afternoon siestas, hopefully the kinkier, the better, because his bride was still on a wonderful learning curve. Did it really matter if she only wanted him for sex?

Why complicate something simple? She was right. It was just sex, not something he had ever felt the need to agonise over or attach labels to. Maledizione! What was she doing to his brain? Why was he dwelling on something so basic?

CHAPTER NINE

‘I BELIEVE THE medication you received in hospital may have disrupted your birth control. Of course, no contraceptive pill is foolproof either. It’s an interesting conundrum,’ Mr Abramo remarked as if the development were purely one of academic interest. ‘Fortunately you’re in much better health than you were a month ago...absolutely blooming, in fact!’

Poppy’s smile felt stiff because she was still in shock. She was pregnant, one hundred per cent with no room for error pregnant and Gaetano was likely to go into even greater shock over that reality. One night, one bout of passion, one baby. Obviously, Gaetano would feel that he had been very unlucky. What were the odds of such a development? What would he want to do? How would he react? She was already praying that he would not hope that she might be willing to consider a termination.

While it was true that she hadn’t planned on a baby, she still wanted the child that was now on its way. Her baby and Gaetano’s, a little piece of Leonetti heritage that even Gaetano couldn’t take off her again, divorce or otherwise. A little boy, a little girl, Poppy wasn’t fussy about the gender. Indeed she was getting excited about the prospect of motherhood and feeling guilty about the fact. How could she dare to look forward happily to an event that would probably seriously depress and infuriate Gaetano, who preferred to plan everything and liked to believe that he could control everybody and everything in his life? The baby would be a wildly out-of-control event. And Gaetano had been frank from the outset that he did not want to risk a conception when they were planning to part. Having foreseen that scenario, he had set out to prevent that situation arising.

Before her conscience could claim her and stifle her natural impulses, Poppy paid a visit to a very exclusive baby shop in Florence where without the smallest encouragement she purchased an incredibly expensive shawl and a tiny pair of exquisite white lace bootees. When she emerged again, clutching a cute beribboned bag, she saw her pair of bodyguards exchanging knowing looks and, scolding herself for her mindless compulsion, made a hurried comment about needing wrapping paper for her gift.

When she returned to La Fattoria for lunch, Gaetano was still in Paris. But he might well have fallen asleep during the flight there, Poppy thought with a wicked little smile. Quite deliberately she had exhausted him. A sexually satiated tired male was unlikely to be tempted by the offer of sex on the side. She had kept him up half the night and had awakened him at dawn in a manner that he had sworn was the ultimate male fantasy. His response had been incredibly enthusiastic. But then Gaetano had remarkable stamina, she reflected sunnily. She ached all over. She ached in places she hadn’t known she could ache but it had all been in a good cause. Surely Serena could no longer be considered a threat?

Given the smallest excuse, Gaetano would have abandoned Serena at the airport. Her incessant flirtatiousness had begun to irritate him during the flight back. Raunchy jokes about bankers and the mile-high club had fallen on stony ground. Gaetano had partied on board when he’d acquired his first private jet but those irresponsible days were far behind him now that he was in the act of becoming the new CEO of the Leonetti Bank. He was quietly satisfied by the attainment of that long-held ambition but he had spent far more time choosing a gift for Poppy during a break between meetings than he had spent considering his lofty rise in status. Ironically now that he had that status it meant less than he had expected to him. His focus in life had definitely shifted in a different direction.

Poppy got sleepy in the late afternoon and went for a nap. She lay on the bed wondering about how best to share her news with Gaetano and tears prickled her eyes because she feared his reaction. He wasn’t likely to be happy about her pregnancy and she had to accept that. It would drive them apart, not keep them together. Fate had thrown them something that couldn’t be easily worked around.

* * *

Gaetano was strangely disappointed when Poppy didn’t greet him downstairs as Muffin did. Muffin hurled himself cheerfully at Gaetano’s legs, refused to sit when told and barked like mad. Muffin didn’t discriminate. Everyone who came through the front door received the same boisterous, undisciplined welcome. Dolores informed Gaetano that Poppy had gone up to lie down and concern quickened the long strides with which he mounted the stairs. Suddenly Gaetano was worrying about what the doctor might have told his wife about her health because taking forty winks in the evening was more Rodolfo’s style.

As Gaetano entered the bedroom, Poppy, roused by Muffin’s barks, pushed herself up on her elbows and smiled, tousled red hair falling round her sleep-flushed face.

‘I exhausted you last night,’ Gaetano assumed with a wolfish grin of all-male satisfaction as he stood at the foot of the bed. ‘I wondered what you were doing in bed and started worrying about what Mr Abramo might have said but that was before I remembered that you had another very good reason to need some extra rest.’

‘It’s the heat. It makes me feel drowsy.’ Butterflies danced to a jungle beat in her tummy while she studied him.

In his beautifully tailored designer suit, Gaetano was a vision of masculine elegance and sex appeal. He was gorgeous with dark stubble outlining his strong jaw line and those intense dark eyes below his extraordinary lashes. Her breasts tingled and heat simmered low in her pelvis.

‘It’s weird because I’ve only been away a few hours...but I missed you,’ Gaetano confided in a constrained undertone. ‘What did Mr Abramo have to say?’

Poppy tensed and swung her legs off the side of the bed so that she was half turned away from him. ‘He had some news for me after the tests,’ she told him tautly.

‘What sort of news?’ Gaetano prompted, shedding his jacket and jerking loose his tie while wondering if she would consider him excessively demanding and greedy if he joined her on the bed.

‘Unexpected news,’ Poppy qualified tightly. ‘You’re going to be surprised.’

‘So, go ahead and surprise me,’ Gaetano urged, unsettled by her uncharacteristic reluctance to meet his eyes and shelving the sexual trail to force his brain to focus.

‘I’m pregnant.’ She framed the words curtly, refusing to sound apologetic or nervous, putting it out there exactly like the fact of life it was.

‘How could you possibly be pregnant?’ Gaetano shot at her with an incredulous frown. ‘If it had only just happened, it would be too soon to know and the one and only other time...it isn’t possible...’

‘It is possible. I fell ill that same day and I missed taking my pill. Mr Abramo also believes the drugs I was given could have interfered with my birth control,’ she told him flatly.

‘You got pregnant on our wedding night?’ Gaetano queried in astonishment. ‘From one time? What are you? The fertility queen?’

‘You didn’t use a condom,’ she reminded him.

‘There shouldn’t have been a risk.’

‘If you’re having sex there’s always a risk,’ she pointed out ruefully. ‘The odds weren’t good that night because I ended up in hospital. In any other circumstances we’d probably have got away with it.’

‘Pregnant,’ Gaetano repeated, expelling his breath on a long slow hiss as he paced over to the windows, the taut muscles in his lean behind and long, powerful legs braced rigid with tension. ‘You’re pregnant.’

Although there was little expression in his dark, deep drawl Poppy took strength from his lack of anger and his ability to joke. Gaetano was dealing with it, wasn’t he? He was good in a crisis, very cool-headed and logical and what they had right now was undeniably a huge crisis. A baby nobody had counted on was on the way, a baby she would nonetheless love and protect to the best of her ability.

Gaetano was still feeling light-headed with shock. A baby! He was going to be a father? Dio mio...he was in no way prepared to be a parent. Having a child was a massive responsibility. It had proved a challenge too much for his own parents and even Rodolfo had struggled with the test of raising Gaetano’s good-for-nothing father. How the hell would he manage? What did he have to offer a child?

‘Gaetano?’ Poppy probed in the tense silence.

He swung round and raked long brown fingers through his cropped black hair in a gesture of frustration. ‘A baby... I can’t believe it. That’s some curve ball to be thrown.’

‘Yes,’ Poppy agreed stiffly. ‘For both of us.’

‘In fact it’s a nightmare,’ Gaetano framed, shocking her with that assessment, which was so much more pessimistic than her own.

Poppy stiffened but fought not to take that comment too personally. ‘Not much I can do to change your outlook if that’s how you feel.’

‘I don’t like the unexpected, the spontaneous,’ he admitted grimly. ‘A baby will turn our lives upside down.’

‘But there’s a positive side as well as a negative side,’ Poppy murmured.

‘Is there?’ Gaetano traded in stark disagreement. ‘We had a divorce planned.’

Poppy lost colour and screened her eyes. A nightmare? That had been a body blow but that his second comment on their situation should refer to their divorce was even tougher. But what had she expected from him? A bottle of champagne and whoops of satisfaction? It could have been a lot worse, she told herself urgently. Gaetano could have lost his temper. He could have tried to imply that the pregnancy was somehow more her fault than his. But then possibly he hadn’t reached that stage yet. After all, he was still pretty much stunned, studying her with brilliant dark eyes that had an unusually unfocused quality. We had a divorce planned. He had gone straight for the jugular.

‘But, obviously I couldn’t possibly leave you to raise my child alone,’ Gaetano completed without skipping a beat. ‘Looks like we’re staying together, bella mia.’

Poppy stiffened at his bleak intonation. ‘So, you’re suggesting that we should forget about getting a divorce now?’

‘What else would I suggest?’ Gaetano asked very drily. ‘You’re carrying the next generation of the Leonetti dynasty. Nobody expects you to do that alone, least of all me. Even though I had two parents they did a fairly rubbish job of raising me. To thrive, our child will need both of us and a stable home to grow up in.’

‘But it’s not what we planned,’ Poppy reminded him while anger simmered like a pot bubbling on the hob beneath her careful surface show of calm.

There was nothing to be gained from losing her temper, she told herself fiercely, but his practical approach was downright insulting. Yes, she agreed that ideally a child should have both parents and a steady home but at what cost? If the parents themselves made sacrifices that resulted in unhappiness how could that be good for anyone? Poppy did not want an unwilling husband and reluctant father by her side. That was not a cross she was prepared to bear for years knowing that it wouldn’t benefit anyone. If that was the best Gaetano had to offer, he could keep it and the wedding ring, she thought painfully. She wanted more, she needed more than a man who would only keep her as a wife because she had fallen pregnant.

‘We couldn’t possibly make a bigger mess of our marriage than my parents did,’ he pointed out wryly. ‘We can only try our best.’

‘As a goal, that just depresses me, Gaetano,’ Poppy admitted.

‘How? We’ll continue on as we are now but at least we won’t be living a lie for Rodolfo’s benefit any longer.’

‘No, you won’t need to live a lie any longer,’ Poppy agreed tightly as she walked towards the door.

‘Where are you going?’

Powered by a furious mix of anger and pain, Poppy ignored the question and stalked up the stairs to the next floor where the luggage was stored. From the room used for that purpose she grabbed up two cases.

From his stance on the landing, Gaetano stared at her in bewilderment. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘Your nightmare is leaving you!’ Poppy bit out squarely.

‘I did not call you a nightmare,’ Gaetano argued vehemently.

‘No, you called the baby I’m having a nightmare, which was worse,’ Poppy countered fiercely. ‘This baby may be unplanned and a big unexpected surprise but I love it already!’

‘Dio mio, Poppy!’ Gaetano exclaimed as she yanked garments out of the built-in closets in the dressing room, hangers falling in all directions. ‘Will you please calm down?’

‘Why would I calm down? I’m pregnant and my husband thinks it’s a nightmare!’

‘I didn’t mean it that way.’

‘And you seem to believe that I have no choice but to stay married to you. Well, here’s some news for you, Gaetano... I can have a baby and manage perfectly well without you!’ Poppy slung at him from between gritted teeth. ‘I don’t need you. I deserve more. I don’t intend to stay married to a guy who’s only with me because he thinks it’s his duty!’

‘That’s not what I said.’

‘That’s exactly what you said!’ Poppy slammed a case down on the bed and wrenched it open. ‘Well, this particular nightmare of yours is taking herself off. There’s got to be better options than you waiting for me.’

Standing very still, Gaetano lost colour and watched her intently. ‘There probably is. But I want very badly for you to stay.’

‘No, you don’t, not really,’ Poppy reasoned thinly. ‘You think our baby would be the icing on the cake for Rodolfo but you don’t want to be married and you don’t want to be a father.’

‘I do want to be married to you.’ Gaetano flung back his shoulders and studied her with strained dark eyes. ‘And I know that I can learn how to be a good father. I meant that the situation of being unprepared for a child was a nightmare. I’m not good with surprises but I can roll fast with the punches that come my way. And believe me, watching you pack to leave me is a hell of a punch.’

The firm resolution in that response surprised her. She paused to roughly fold up a dress before thrusting it into the case, sending an unimpressed glance at his lean, darkly handsome face. She wasn’t listening to him, she told herself urgently. She had made her decision. It was better for her to leave him with her head held high than to consider giving him another chance...wasn’t it?

‘Is it? Are you really capable of changing your outlook to that extent? Accepting being married without feeling that you’re somehow doing me a favour and settling for second best?’ she queried with scorn. ‘Accepting our child as the gift that a child is?’

‘I know that I was difficult when I married you.’ Gaetano compressed his lips on that startling admission. ‘I’m not easy-going but I am adaptable and I do learn from my mistakes. Dio mio, bella mia...my attitude to you has changed most of all.’

‘How?’ Poppy prompted, needing him to face up to the major decision he was trying to make for both of them. She didn’t want Gaetano deciding that they should stay married and then changing his mind again because he felt trapped by the restrictions. She had to know and understand exactly what he was thinking and feeling and expecting. How else could she make a decision?

His wide sensual mouth twisted. ‘I don’t want to discuss that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because sometimes silence is golden and honesty can be the wrong way to go,’ he framed grudgingly. ‘And knowing my luck, I’ll say the wrong thing again.’

‘But you should be able to tell me anything. We shouldn’t have secrets between us. How has your attitude to me changed?’ Poppy persisted, curiosity and obstinacy combining to push her on.

Gaetano glanced heavenward for a brief moment and then drew in a ragged breath. ‘I asked you to pretend to be engaged to me because I thought you would be a huge embarrassment as a fiancée.’

Shock gripped Poppy in a debilitating wave only to be swiftly followed by a huge rush of hurt. ‘In what way?’

‘I was the posh bloke who made unjustified assumptions about you,’ Gaetano admitted, his deep voice raw-edged with regret. ‘I assumed you’d still be using a lot of bad language. I expected you to be totally lost and unable to cope in my world. In fact I believed that your eccentric fashion sense and everything about you would horrify Rodolfo and put him off the idea of me getting married, so that when the engagement broke down he would be relieved rather than disappointed...’

Gaetano had finished speaking but his every word still struck through the fog of Poppy’s shell-shocked state like lightning on a dark stormy night. She felt physically sick.

Gaetano had watched the blood drain from below her skin and fierce tension now stamped his lean dark features. ‘So that’s the kind of guy I really am, the kind of guy you get to stay married to and the father of your future child. I know it’s not pretty but you have earned the right to know the truth about me. Most of the time I’m an absolute bastard,’ he stated bleakly. ‘I tried to use you in the most callous way possible and it didn’t once occur to me to wonder how that experience would ultimately affect you...or Rodolfo.’

Poppy wrapped her arms round her slim body as if she were trying to hold the dam of pain inside her back from breaking its banks. She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. He had seen from the outset how unworthy she was to be even his fiancée and he had planned to use her worst traits and the handicap of her poor background as an excuse to dump her again without antagonising his grandfather. In short he had handpicked her as the fake fiancée most likely to mortify him.

Poppy cringed inside herself. His prior assumptions appalled her, for she had not appreciated how prejudiced he had still been about her. Shattered by his admission, she felt humiliated beyond bearing. He had seen her flaws right at the beginning and had pinned his hopes on her shaming him. How could he then adapt to the idea of staying married to her for years and years? Raising a child with her? Taking her out in public?

‘The moment I picked you to fail was the moment that I sank to my all-time personal low,’ Gaetano confessed in a roughened undertone. ‘I got it horribly wrong. You showed me how wrong my expectations were. You proved yourself to be so much more than I was prepared for you to be and I became ashamed of my original plan.’

‘But you didn’t need to tell me this once we went as far as getting married,’ she whispered brokenly, backing in the direction of the door, desperate to lick her wounds in private.

‘You’ve always been honest with me. I’m trying to give you the same respect.’

‘Only a couple of months ago you had no respect for me!’ Poppy condemned with embittered accuracy.

‘That changed fast,’ Gaetano fielded, moving a step closer, wanting to hold her so badly and resisting the urge with a frustration that coiled his big hands into fists. ‘I learned to respect you. I learned a lot of other stuff from you as well.’

Feeling as though he were twisting a knife in her heart, Poppy voiced a loud sound of disagreement and snapped, ‘You didn’t learn anything...you never do. You’re dumb as a rock about everything that really matters from giving Muffin a second chance at life to raising our child!’ she accused. ‘How could I ever trust you again?’

Poppy stalked out of the door and he fought his need to follow her. He didn’t want her racing down the stairs and falling in an effort to evade him. ‘Muffin trusts me,’ he murmured flatly to the empty room. Muffin? Muffin who couldn’t even tell him and Rodolfo apart? Admittedly, Muffin wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.

Gaetano groaned out loud. Maybe he should have kept on pretending to be a better man than he was but Poppy would only have found him out in the end. Poppy had a way of cutting through the nonsense to find the heart of an issue and see what really mattered. Just as Gaetano had finally seen what really mattered. Unfortunately that single instant of inner vision and comprehension had arrived with him pretty late in the day. He wasn’t dumb as a rock about emotional stuff. He simply wasn’t very practised at it. It wasn’t something he’d ever bothered with until Poppy came along.

Poppy pelted out into the cool night. She needed air and space and silence to pull herself back together. The garden was softly lit, low-sited lights shining on exotic leaves and casting shadows in mysterious corners. Her face was wet with tears and she wiped her cheeks with angry hands. Damn him, damn him, damn him! What he had confessed had wounded her deeply. She loved Gaetano and he had always been her dream male. Handsome, brilliant, rich and glitzy, he had met every requirement for an adolescent fantasy. Now for the first time she was seeing herself through his eyes and it was so humiliating she wanted to sink into the earth and stay hidden there for ever.

He had only remembered the highly unsuitable bold girl with the potty mouth, and eccentric clothes, who could be depended on to embarrass him. And being Gaetano, who was never ever straightforward when he could be devious, manipulative and complicated instead, he had hoped to utilise her very obvious faults to frighten Rodolfo out of demanding that his grandson marry. And ironically, Rodolfo himself had set Poppy up for that fall by advising Gaetano to marry ‘an ordinary girl’. And just how many ordinary girls did a jet-setter like Gaetano know?

None. Until Poppy had stumbled in that night at Woodfield Hall, to demand his attention and his non-existent compassion.

An embarrassment to him? No conventional dress sense, a dysfunctional family, no idea how to behave in rich, exclusive circles. Well, nothing had changed and she would never reach the high bar of social acceptability. Poppy shuddered, sick to her stomach with a galling sense of defeat and failure. She had never cared about such things but evidently Gaetano did. Even worse, Gaetano was currently offering to stay married to his unsuitable bride because she was pregnant.

She sat down on one of the cold stone seats sited round the table and her face burned hot in spite of the cool evening air when she remembered what had happened on that table only the day before. Gaetano was like an addiction, toxic, dangerous. He had gone from infuriating her to charming her to making her fall very deeply in love with him. And yet she had still never guessed how he really saw her. The gardener’s daughter with the unfortunate family. It hurt—oh, my goodness, it hurt. But he had been right to tell her because she had needed to know the truth and accept it before she could stop weaving silly dreams about their future. So, how did she stay married to a male who had handpicked her to be an embarrassment?

The answer came swiftly. In such circumstances she could not stay married to Gaetano. Regardless of her pregnancy, she needed to leave him and go ahead with a divorce.

‘Poppy...’

Poppy stiffened. He must have walked across the grass because she would have heard his approach had he used the gravel paths. She breathed in deep, stiffening her facial muscles before she lifted her head.

‘Should I have kept it a secret?’ he asked her in a raw undertone.

He knew she was upset. His dark eyes were lingering on her, probably picking up on the dampness round her eyes even though she had quickly stopped crying. He noticed too much, knew too much about women. ‘No,’ she said heavily. ‘It was better to tell me. I don’t like you for it and it’ll be hard to live with what I now know but you can’t build a relationship on lies and pretences.’

Gaetano stilled in the shadow of the trees, his white shirt gleaming, his spectacular bone structure accentuated by the dim light. ‘Don’t leave me,’ he framed unevenly. ‘Even the idea of being without you scares me. I wouldn’t like my life without you in it.’

Poppy couldn’t imagine Gaetano being scared and she imagined his life would be a lot more normal and straightforward without her in it. Their child deserved better than to grow up with unhappily married and ill-matched parents. A divorce would be preferable to that. She would give Gaetano as much access as he wanted to their child but she didn’t have to live with him or hang round his neck like an albatross to be a good parent. They could both commit to their child while living separately.

‘I can’t stay married to you,’ she told him quietly. ‘What would be the point?’

‘I’m not good with emotions. I’m good at being angry, at being passionate, at being ambitious but I’m no good at the softer stuff. I lost that ability when I was a kid,’ Gaetano admitted grittily. ‘I loved my parents but they were incapable of loving me back and I saw that. I also saw that in comparison to them I felt too much. I learned to hide what I feel and eventually it became such a habit I didn’t have to police myself any more. Emotion hurts. Rejection hurts, so I made sure I was safe by not feeling anything.’

Involuntarily, Poppy was touched that he was talking about his parents in an effort to bridge the chasm that had opened up between them. He never ever talked about his childhood but she would never forget his determined non-reaction when his dog had died, his stark refusal to betray any emotion. ‘That makes sense,’ she conceded.

‘The only woman I ever loved after my mother left was my grandmother.’

‘I thought at some stage you and Serena...’

‘No. I walked away from her because I felt nothing and I knew there should be more.’

Poppy bowed her head, wondering why he was trying to stop her from walking away from him.

‘I’m not quite as dumb as a rock,’ Gaetano asserted heavily. ‘But I was all screwed up about you long before we even got to the wedding. Unfortunately marrying you only made me ten times more screwed up.’

‘Screwed up?’ Poppy queried, shifting uncomfortably on her hard stone seat.

‘I got really involved with the wedding.’

‘Yes, that was a surprise.’

‘I wanted it to be special for you. I became very possessive of you. I assumed it was because we hadn’t had sex.’

‘Obviously,’ Poppy chimed in because he seemed to expect it.

‘In fact I was really only thinking in terms of sex.’

Poppy sent him a rather sad smile. ‘I know that...it’s basically your only means of communication in a relationship.’

‘You’re the only woman I’ve ever had a relationship with.’

Poppy stared at him, green eyes luminous in the light. ‘How can you say that with your reputation?’

‘All those weeks after your illness when I didn’t touch you but we were together all the time...that was like my version of dating,’ Gaetano told her darkly. ‘The affairs I had with women before you went no further than dinner followed by sex or the theatre followed by sex or—’

‘OK... I’ve got the picture,’ she cut in hurriedly, her gaze clinging to the dark beauty of his bronzed features with growing fascination. ‘So...your version of dating?’

‘I wanted to get to know you—’

‘No, you were on a massive guilt trip because I fell ill. That’s why you didn’t sleep with me again and why you spent so much time entertaining me.’

‘I’m not a masochist. I spent so much time with you because I was enjoying myself,’ Gaetano contradicted. ‘And I didn’t touch you again because I didn’t want to be selfish. I thought you would be happier if I made no further demands.’

Poppy sent him a withering appraisal. ‘You got it wrong.’

‘Poppy...let’s face it,’ Gaetano muttered heavily. ‘I got everything wrong with you.’

Her tender heart reacted with a first shard of genuine sympathy. ‘No, the sex was ten out of ten and your version of dating was amazingly engaging. You made me happy, Gaetano. You definitely win points for that.’

‘I bought you something today and it wasn’t until I bought it and realised what it symbolised that I finally understood myself,’ he framed harshly, pulling a tiny box from his pocket.

Poppy studied the fancy logo of a world-famous jeweller with surprised eyes and opened the box. It was a ring, a continuous circlet of diamonds that flashed like fire in the artificial light. She blinked down at it in confusion.

‘It’s an eternity ring,’ Gaetano pointed out very quietly.

A laugh that wasn’t a laugh at all was wrenched from Poppy. ‘Kind of an odd choice when before you came home and I made my announcement you were set on eventually getting a divorce,’ she pointed out.

‘But it expresses how I feel.’ Gaetano cleared his throat in obvious discomfiture. ‘When you talk about leaving me, it tears me apart. Because somewhere along the line, somehow, I fell in love with you, Poppy. I know it’s love because I’ve never felt like this before and the idea of losing you terrifies me.’

‘Love...’ Poppy whispered shakily.

‘Never thought it could happen to me,’ Gaetano confided in a rush. ‘I didn’t want it to happen either. I didn’t want to get attached to anyone and then you came along and you were so perfect I couldn’t resist you.’

‘P-perfect?’ she stammered in a daze.

Gaetano dropped down on his knees in the dew-wet grass and reached for her hand. He tugged off the engagement ring and threaded on the eternity ring so that it rested beside her wedding ring. ‘You’re perfect for me. You get who I am, even with my faults. The money doesn’t get in the way for you, doesn’t impress you. You keep me grounded. You make me unbelievably happy. You make me question my actions and really think about what I’m doing,’ he bit out. ‘With you, I’m something more, something better, and I need that. I need you in my life.’

Her lashes fluttered. She could hear him but she couldn’t quite believe him, there on his knees at her feet, his hand trembling slightly in hers because he was scared, he was scared she wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t accept that he really loved her. And that fear touched her down deep inside, wrapping round her crazy fears about Serena and the terrible insecurities that had sent her running out of the house and sealing them for ever. Suddenly none of that existed because Gaetano loved her, Gaetano needed her...

‘I love you so much. I couldn’t stand to lose you and my first thought when you told me you were pregnant was, “She’ll stay now,” and it was a massive relief to think that even though you didn’t love me you would stay so that we could bring up our child together.’

‘I do love you,’ Poppy murmured intently, leaning forward to kiss him.

‘You’re not just saying it because I said it first?’ Gaetano checked.

‘I really, really love you.’

‘Even though I don’t have a single loveable trait?’ he quoted back at her quick as a flash.

‘You grew on me like mould,’ Poppy told him deadpan.

Gaetano burst out laughing and sprang upright, pulling her up into the circle of his arms. ‘Like mould?’ he queried.

Poppy looked up into his beautiful eyes and her heart did a happy dance inside her. ‘I like cheese,’ she proclaimed defensively.

‘Do you like your ring?’

‘Very much,’ she told him instantly, smiling up at him with a true sense of joyful possessiveness. ‘But I like what it symbolises most of all. You didn’t want to let me go, you wanted to keep me.’

‘And I intend to keep you for ever and ever. Anything less than eternity wouldn’t be enough, amata mia.’

‘The baby was a shock, wasn’t it?’ She sighed, walking back towards the house with him hand in hand.

‘A wonderful one. Our little miracle,’ Gaetano said with sudden rueful humour. ‘It took one hell of a baby to get in under my radar, so I’ll be expecting a very determined personality in the family.’

Gaetano halted at that point to claim a kiss. And Poppy threw herself into that kiss with abandon. He pressed her back against a tree trunk, his body hard and urgent against hers and a rippling shudder of excitement shimmied through her slender length.

‘Let’s go to bed,’ she suggested, looking up at him with bold appreciative eyes.

‘We haven’t had dinner yet and a mother-to-be needs sustenance,’ Gaetano told her lazily, trailing her indoors and out to the terrace where the table awaited them.

But neither of them ate very much. Between the intense looks exchanged and the suggestive conversation, it wasn’t very long before they headed upstairs at a very adult stately pace, which broke down into giggles and a clumsy embrace as Poppy rugby-tackled Gaetano down onto the floor of their bedroom. By the time they made it to the bed and he had moved the suitcase she had left there they were kissing passionately and holding each other so tightly that it was a challenge to remove clothes. But they managed through kisses and caresses and mutual promises to make love with all the fire and excitement that powered them both and afterwards they lay with their arms wrapped round each other, secure in their love and talking about their future.

* * *

Poppy glanced out of the front window and saw her children with Rodolfo. Sarah was holding his hand and chattering, her little face animated below her halo of red curls. Benito was pedalling his trike doggedly in front of them, ignoring the fact that the deep gravel on the path made cycling a challenge for a little boy.

Sarah was four years old and took after her mother in looks and her father in nature. She already knew all her numbers, was very much a thinking child and tended to look after her little brother in a bossy way. Benito was two, dark of hair and eye and as lively as a jumping bean. He was on the go from dawn to dusk and generally fell asleep during his bedtime story in his father’s arms.

Sometimes, or at least until she looked at her expanding family, Poppy found it hard to credit that she had been married for five years. Gaetano might have been a late convert to family life but he had taken to it like the proverbial duck to water. He adored his children and rushed home to be with them and it was thanks to his persuasion that Poppy was carrying their third child. Third and last, she had told him firmly even though she liked the way their family had developed. In retrospect she was glad they hadn’t waited and that Sarah had taken them by surprise and not having too big a gap between the children meant that they could grow up with each other.

But, at the same time, Poppy was also looking forward to having more time to devote to her own interests. She had taken several landscape designer courses over the years and was planning to set up a small landscaping firm. She had redesigned the gardens at La Fattoria to make them more child-friendly and had already taken several private commissions from friends, one of which had won an award. The gardens at the London town house and at Woodfield Hall both bore her stamp and when she wanted to relax she was usually to be found in a greenhouse tending the rare orchids she collected.

Gaetano was CEO of the Leonetti Bank and when he travelled, Poppy and the children often went with him. He put his family first and at the heart of his life, ensuring that they took lengthy breaks abroad to wind down from their busy lives. Poppy’s mother, Jasmine, had made a good recovery and was now training as an addiction counsellor to help others as she had been helped. She lived in Manchester with her sister but she was a frequent visitor in London, as was Poppy’s brother. Damien, backed by Gaetano, had recently started up a specialist motorcycle repair shop.

In fact there wasn’t a cloud in Poppy’s sky because she was happy. Sadly, Muffin had passed away of old age the year before and he had been replaced by a rescued golden Labrador who enjoyed rough and tumble games with the children.

‘Guess who...’ A pair of hands covered her eyes while a lean, hard body connected with hers.

Poppy grinned. The familiar scent of Gaetano’s cologne assailed her while his hands travelled places nobody else would have dared. ‘You’re the only sex pest I know,’ she teased, suppressing a moan as the hand that had splayed across her slightly swollen belly snaked lower and circled, sending sweet sensation snaking through her responsive body.

Gaetano spun his wife round and she reached up to wind her arms round his neck. ‘Sorry, I slept in this morning and missed seeing you.’

‘You were up with Benito last night when he had a nightmare, amata mia,’ he reminded her. ‘That’s why I didn’t wake you.’

Poppy teased the corner of his wide sensual mouth with her own, heat warming her core. She wanted to drag him to the bed and ravish him. Her hunger for him never went entirely away. He shrugged off his jacket and stared down at her with smouldering dark golden eyes. ‘Share the shower with me...’

‘Promise not to get my hair wet,’ she bargained.

‘You know I can’t.’ An unholy grin slashed Gaetano’s lips. ‘Sometimes you get carried away. Is that my fault?’

‘Absolutely your fault,’ his wife told him as she peeled off her dress.

Gaetano treated her to a fiercely appreciative appraisal. ‘Did I ever tell you how amazingly sexy you look when you’re pregnant?’

‘You may have mentioned it once or twice—’

‘Sometimes I can hardly believe you’re mine. I love you so much, amata mia,’ Gaetano swore passionately, gathering her up into his arms with care and kissing her breathless.

‘I love you too,’ she said between kisses, happiness bubbling through her at the sure knowledge that she was going to get her hair very wet indeed.

* * * * *

The Italian’s Ruthless Seduction

Miranda Lee

What his billions can’t buy…

If Sergio Mancini wants something, he only has to snap his fingers to get it. Except for Bella Williams. No matter how much his stunning stepsister once drove him wild with lust, he never allowed himself to have her, believing she was a gold digger like her mother.

Now, when Bella calls unexpectedly seeking refuge at their secluded family home by Lake Como, their unfulfilled desire resurfaces. No longer able to resist, Sergio ruthlessly decides it’s finally time to quench the fire.

But their one night together only inflames their passion—and now he wants more!

The trouble hadn’t started till her birthday party, when Bella had emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon, blowing him away with her grace, her grown–up beauty and her devastating sex appeal.

Sergio hadn’t been back to Sydney for several months. University life—and the sophistication of Rome—had had more appeal than staying in a house run by a woman he disliked intensely.

He had been startled when Bella had come up to him and demanded a birthday kiss.

‘You’ll have to do, Sergio,’ she’d said, without a hint of flirtation. ‘A girl has to be kissed on her birthday and you’re the only male here other than Papa. And he doesn’t count.’

Sergio hadn’t been ready for the effect on him when she’d gone up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his. For a split second he’d been tempted to yank her hard against him, to part her innocent lips and plunge his tongue inside. But he’d resisted the devil’s urging just in time, keeping the kiss to a platonic peck—which had obviously disappointed Bella, if her pout had been anything to go by.

Well, she’s not an innocent now, Sergio, he reminded himself. Time you stopped having cold showers and started having what you’ve always wanted.

Which was Bella herself—in his bed and at his mercy.

Rich, Ruthless and Renowned

Billionaires secure their brides!

International tycoons Sergio, Alex and Jeremy were best friends at college. Bonded by their shared passion for business—and bedding beautiful women!—they formed The Bachelors’ Club, which had only two goals:

1 Live life to the full.

2 Become billionaires in their own right!

But now, with the dotted line signed for the sale of their multibillion-dollar wine empire, there’s one final thing left for each of the bachelors to accomplish: securing a bride!

The trilogy begins with Sergio’s story in

The Italian’s Ruthless Seduction

Look out for Alex and Jeremy’s stories, coming soon!

Born and raised in the Australian bush, Miranda Lee was boarding-school-educated, and briefly pursued a career in classical music before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.

Books by Miranda Lee

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Taken Over by the Billionaire A Man Without Mercy Master of Her Virtue Contract with Consequences The Man Every Woman Wants Not a Marrying Man A Night, A Secret…A Child

Three Rich Husbands

The Billionaire’s Bride of Innocence

Visit the Author Profile page at

millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

CHAPTER ONE

I SHOULD BE HAPPIER, Sergio thought as he snapped off the shower, stepped out onto the luxuriously soft bath mat and reached for an even more luxurious bath sheet. Today I became a billionaire. Today, my two best friends became billionaires as well. If that doesn’t make me happy, then what will?

Sergio frowned as he dried himself vigorously. Why wasn’t he happier? Why wasn’t he thrilled to pieces with the four-point-six billion they’d been paid for the Wild Over Wine franchise? Why did signing that contract today leave him feeling just a little...empty?

Wise people did say it was the journey that gave the most satisfaction, not the destination, he conceded with a resigned shrug of his broad shoulders. The irrefutable fact was that the three members of the Bachelors’ Club had now reached their destination. Well...almost. None of them had turned thirty-five yet, though they would soon. His own thirty-fifth birthday was just over a fortnight away.

Sergio smiled a wry smile as he recalled the night they’d formed the Bachelors’ Club. How young they were at the time. Not that any of them had realised it back then. They’d felt incredibly mature, older at twenty-three than a lot of the other students at Oxford in their year. More confident than most as well, each of them having been blessed with good looks as well as above-average intelligence. They’d also been very ambitious.

At least, he and Alex had been ambitious. Jeremy—who’d already had a private income—had just gone along for the ride.

It had been a Friday night, several months after they’d first met. They’d been in Jeremy’s room, of course. His room had been so much bigger and better than the one Sergio and Alex had shared. They had all been more than a little intoxicated when Sergio—who had a tendency to become philosophical when he drank—had asked the others what their goals were in life.

‘Definitely not marriage,’ had been Jeremy’s rather scathing remark.

Jeremy Barker-Whittle, youngest son of a British banking empire that went back generations. Perhaps because of their excessive wealth, his family was littered with divorce. It had not escaped his two friends that Jeremy was somewhat cynical when it came to the institution of marriage.

‘I’m not interested in marriage either,’ Alex Katona, a Rhodes Scholar from Sydney with a working-class background and a near-genius IQ had agreed. ‘I’ll be too busy working to get married. I aim to be a billionaire by the time I’m thirty-five.’

‘Me too,’ Sergio had concurred. Although Sergio was the only son and heir to the Morelli Manufacturing Company, based in Milan, he was well aware that the family firm was not doing as well as it once had. By the time Sergio inherited the business, he suspected it might not be worth inheriting. If he wanted to be a success in life, he had to make it on his own. Which meant no marriage as well. Not for ages, anyway.

And so the Bachelors’ Club had been born, their rules and goals laid out that night with great enthusiasm.

Rule One had been somewhat sentimental—and optimistic—for three young men in their early twenties.

To remain friends for ever.

Of course they had been very drunk at the time, having consumed quite a few bottles of Jeremy’s seemingly limitless supply of fabulous French wine.

But, rather amazingly, they were still the best of friends over a decade later, despite going into business together, which would usually spell the kiss of death where friendships were concerned. Sergio didn’t question why their friendship worked, but he was grateful for it. He couldn’t imagine anything ever happening to spoil the bond between them.

Sergio had to laugh over Rule Two, however, which was To live life to the full.

Translate that to mean they were to sleep with every attractive girl who looked sideways at them. Which the three of them had managed very well during their years at Oxford. Since their graduation to real life, however, they’d become a little more discerning. At least, Sergio had, preferring the company of women who had more to offer than just their willing bodies. Women with careers and class and conversation. Often older women, unlike Alex, whose girlfriends seemed to get younger as he got older.

‘Younger women don’t cling or criticise or complain as much as females of my own age,’ he told Sergio one day. ‘Neither do they always want me to marry them.’

Alex was still anti-marriage. Not in principle. Just for himself. Unlike Jeremy, he wasn’t cynical about the institution, Alex’s parents and siblings having enjoyed happy marriages. As for Jeremy...he’d become a playboy of the first order, his girlfriends coming and going with alarming speed. No one could get bored with a girlfriend quicker than Jeremy. But there was always another one eager to take the previous one’s place, Jeremy’s wealth, good looks and charm had women falling at his feet wherever he went. Naturally, they all fell in love with him as well, a sentiment that was never returned. Jeremy wasn’t into love, leaving a trail of broken hearts all over Britain, and half of Europe as well. Sergio didn’t approve—and said so—but Jeremy just shrugged and said it wasn’t his fault that he was fickle. It was a genetic flaw. His father was on his third marriage and his mother her fourth. Or was it her fifth?

So of course neither Alex nor Jeremy had trouble with rule number three.

Members of the Bachelors’ Club must not marry till at least thirty-five.

Which had seemed an eternity away at the time.

Still, Sergio had always known, despite a huge dose of bitterness over his father’s second marriage and subsequent divorce, that one day he would marry. He was Italian, after all. Family was important to him. But he’d put the idea on hold whilst he’d worked obsessively towards the Bachelors’ Club’s main goal.

To become billionaires by the age of thirty-five.

Which they’d finally managed. Today.

Another wave of melancholy washed through Sergio as he accepted that today also marked the virtual end of their club. Yes, the three of them would still remain friends for ever—that was a given—but only at a distance. He himself was returning to Milan shortly to take control of the family business which had gone into serious decline since his father’s death last year. Alex was off back to Australia tomorrow to expand his already successful property development company whilst Jeremy would stay in London where he planned to buy himself a business. Possibly advertising. Anything but banking, apparently.

Sergio knew that once he told Jeremy and Alex tonight about his intention to marry, they would also see that the Bachelors’ Club’s days were seriously numbered. Still, that was life, wasn’t it? Nothing stayed the same. Change was inevitable.

I will think of marriage as a new goal, Sergio decided with determined positivity as he strode from the bathroom. A new challenge. A new journey.

So what kind of wife do you want, Sergio? he asked himself as he made his way into his huge dressing room, which housed a wardrobe that even Jeremy envied. Sergio bypassed the rack of superb Italian business suits he owned—tonight was for celebrating, not business— selecting a casually tailored pair of black trousers, drawing them on and zipping them up in a rather reckless fashion for a man of his impressive dimensions.

She would have to be reasonably young, he supposed, since he wanted to have more than one child. Certainly no older than mid twenties. She would also have to be physically attractive, he decided pragmatically, taking a white silk shirt off its hanger and putting it on. Sergio couldn’t see himself marrying a plain Jane. Not stunning looking, though. Stunningly beautifully women caused a man trouble.

Sergio was buttoning up his shirt when his personal cell phone rang. He frowned as he strode back into the bedroom and over to where he’d left the phone by the bed. Only a small number of people had that particular number. Alex and Jeremy, of course. And Cynthia. He changed the number every year, liking the privacy this afforded him. No doubt it was either Alex or Jeremy, telling him they were running late. As usual. It wouldn’t be Cynthia. He’d broken up with her over a month ago, and she’d long given up on a reconciliation.

Sergio’s eyebrows lifted when he swept up the phone and saw that the caller ID was blocked, his lips pursing angrily at the very real possibility that some scam artist had hacked into his private number. It had happened once or twice before.

‘Who is this?’ he snapped down the line.

There was a short silence at the other end before a woman’s voice hesitantly said, ‘It...it’s Bella...’

Shock slammed into Sergio with all the force of a physical blow, taking his breath away, not to mention his voice.

‘Sergio?’ she went on after a few seconds of strained silence. ‘That is you, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Bella, it’s me,’ he managed to say at last, marvelling at how normal he sounded. Because there was nothing even remotely normal going on inside him. His heart was pounding behind his ribs and his head...his head had ceased to process logical thoughts. For this was Bella calling him. The stunningly beautiful Bella...his one-time stepsister and long-time tormentor.

‘You said...that if I ever needed your help...that I could call you. You...you gave me your number. At your father’s funeral...don’t you remember?’ she finished on a somewhat breathless note.

‘Yes, I remember,’ he admitted once his addled brain plugged into his memory bank.

‘I’m going to have to ring you back,’ she suddenly blurted out, then hung up.

Sergio swore, then stared down at the dead phone, gripping it tightly as he struggled to resist the urge to throw the damned thing at the wall.

For a full five minutes he paced the room, willing her to call him back, wondering and worrying about what kind of trouble she was in. Not that he should care. She obviously hadn’t given him a second thought since their parents’ divorce. And that had been eleven years ago! Her showing up at his father’s funeral last year had been all about his father, not him personally. It infuriated Sergio that he was wasting time waiting for her to call him back when he should be getting himself down to the restaurant for dinner. His booking was for eight and it was close to that now.

If he had any sense he would stop thinking about Bella and do just that.

He laughed at himself as he collected his shoes and socks and started putting them on. For when had he ever been able to stop thinking of Bella once she’d entered his head?

Maybe, if she’d remained a nobody, living a quiet life back in Australia, Sergio might have been able to forget her. But no. Fate hadn’t been that kind. After winning a high-profile talent quest on Australian television shortly before Dolores asked his father for a divorce, Bella had gone on to become a famous leading lady in musical theatre, starring in shows all over the world, most on Broadway, but some of them in London. Her exquisitely beautiful face had been everywhere at one time. On television. The sides of buses. On billboards. Sergio had resisted going to see her on stage, knowing that watching her perform in person would only fuel the overwhelming desire that she’d once inspired in him, the memory of which he still struggled with.

But once again, fate hadn’t been kind, Jeremy dragging him along one night about three years ago to a Royal Variety Performance where Bella—unbeknownst to Sergio—had been one of the guest performers. What agony it had been, sitting there watching her sing and dance.

But even worse had been to come that night, with Jeremy informing him after the curtain had finally gone down that he’d received an invite to the after-concert party at the Soho Hotel. Sergio could have refused to accompany him, but a perverse curiosity had overridden his first instinct, which was to go home to his new Canary Wharf apartment and get blind drunk. Instead, he’d gone to the party where Bella had waltzed in on the arm of her latest lover, a handsome French actor of dubious talent with a reputation as a womaniser. What a brilliant-looking couple they’d made, her exquisite blonde beauty the perfect foil for the Frenchman’s dark good looks, Bella dressed in an ethereal white evening gown whilst he was all in black; a devil to her angel. Sergio had watched her for ages from a distance, watched her and wanted her, his jealousy fierce whenever the Frenchman had touched her. Which had been often.

Sergio no longer had a clear memory of what he’d said to her when she’d finally spotted him across the room, leaving the leech for a moment to come over and speak privately to him. He would not have been rude. That was not his way, his father having instilled politeness and manners into him from a young age. No doubt he’d said something complimentary about her performance. What he could recall, however, was the wicked cruelty of his erection as he’d watched her mouth move to say he knew not what. Never before or since had he felt anything like it, her physical closeness causing his unrequited desire for her to flare to a point almost impossible to control.

But control it, he had, conversing with her for a short while till her obsequiously possessive lover had come over and drawn her away. It was only after Sergio had arrived home and was safely alone in his bedroom that he’d given vent to his explosive emotions, smashing his fist through the bathroom door, breaking two fingers in the process, after which he’d plunged himself into a cold shower and wept like a baby.

It had taken several weeks for his hand to heal, and for him to find some perspective about his self-destructive feelings for Bella. Talking to Alex and Jeremy had helped, though their advice had been typical.

‘What you need, mate,’ Alex had said, ‘is to get laid more often.’

‘She’s probably not that great in bed, anyway,’ Jeremy had added. ‘Alex is right. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. Throw the net out a bit more, bro.’

Which he had, for a while, having sex with more women in the next month than he had for years. All of them had been one-night stands. All of them blondes with blue eyes, pretty faces and very nice figures.

In the end, however, such a lifestyle had not sat well with Sergio. So he’d found himself Cynthia, an attractive divorcee who had been very good in bed and hadn’t minded that he didn’t love her. Gradually, Bella had slipped to the back of his mind, where she stayed. Most of the time.

Still, when he’d heard via Alex that Bella had broken up with the French actor, Sergio hadn’t been able to deny feeling some satisfaction. He hadn’t felt quite so happy when he’d found out she’d taken up with a Russian oligarch who’d made billions out of oil and natural gas, investing his fortune in a string of luxury hotels. The Russian had, again according to Alex, a reputation as a notorious ladies’ man with a penchant for celebrity blondes, usually supermodels or actresses. Sergio had shaken his head in dismay over this. Because it wasn’t the first time Bella had taken up with a man of dubious reputation. Aside from the French actor, her list of previous lovers included a rock star with a drug problem and an Argentinian polo player who changed girlfriends as often as his horses. None of these relationships had lasted. But the gossip rags had had a field day during every one of these affairs, and afterwards.

When would Bella ever find true love? they’d speculated ad nauseam.

Sergio stared down at the still-silent phone, hating himself for worrying about her, despising himself for just wanting to hear the sound of her voice again. But why hadn’t she rung back? She’d actually sounded nervous. And why had she hung up so abruptly? Had her latest lover come into the room and found her on the phone to another man? Was she in an abusive relationship perhaps? Despite being successful in her career, Bella was a very bad picker of men.

Which was nobody’s fault but her own!

Still...he did not like to think of her being treated badly.

Sergio swore at his tortured train of thoughts. Damn it all, she wasn’t his responsibility any more. Hadn’t been since the divorce. He shouldn’t care about her at all! But somehow, for some perverse reason, he did care. Which was perhaps why, when she’d shown up out of the blue at his father’s funeral last year, looking tired and strained, he’d given her his private phone number and told her that if she ever needed him for anything, then he would be there for her.

Perversely, he hadn’t recognised her at first. She’d been wearing a large black hat, a black wig and dark glasses. Even when she’d revealed her identity to him, he hadn’t reacted the way he would have expected, with a mad rush of rampant desire. When she’d expressed her condolences, then added a sincere apology for the way her mother had treated her father, his only emotion had been sadness. Looking back, Sergio could only imagine that grief over his father’s death had dampened his hormones to a point where not even being in Bella’s provocative presence could rouse him. He recalled actually wanting to talk to her more. But when someone else had come up to speak to him—he couldn’t remember who—she’d said a hurried goodbye and disappeared.

He’d never told Jeremy or Alex that the mysterious brunette was Bella. He hadn’t been into chatting, or confiding, at that particular time, depression taking hold of him for several weeks after the funeral. When he’d finally dragged himself out of the black pit, Sergio had regretted giving Bella his phone number. Not because he’d thought she would ever contact him but because his foolish gesture had brought her back into the forefront of his mind. It had taken a supreme effort of will to push her back to a place where she was no more than a frustrating memory, but every now and then—like tonight—she would break out of the mental dungeon into which he’d locked her and give him hell.

It was pathetic, really. Exasperated with himself, he slipped his phone in his trouser pocket and headed for the door, determined not to waste another moment of headspace on that infernal woman. But within seconds of locking the door another thought crossed his mind.

Maybe she was pregnant!

This time, Sergio’s laugh was both rueful and self-mocking. In the old days a single woman falling pregnant would have been a disaster. But this wasn’t the old days. If Bella had happened to accidentally fall pregnant—a highly unlikely idea, he now appreciated—she wouldn’t need his help. She had enough money to hire nannies and any other help she needed. She certainly wouldn’t ask any man—especially himself—to make an honest woman out of her. That was total fantasy. As much as Sergio had had many fantasies about Bella over the years, none of them had included marriage.

Women like Bella were not made for marriage. They were made to be admired and desired. Made to be bedded, not wedded. As for children...clearly Bella had never felt the urge to reproduce. Yet she could have, if she’d wanted to. A lot of celebrity women had babies outside marriage. No, clearly Bella wasn’t interested in that kind of commitment. Sergio wasn’t surprised, given she’d been raised by a woman whose ambition for her daughter to become rich and famous had been nothing short of obsessive. Sergio believed Dolores had only married his father so that he could pay for her daughter’s tuition in singing and dancing. She’d seduced the Italian widower when he had been lonely and vulnerable, then trapped him into marriage with a supposed pregnancy that had miraculously disappeared as soon as the ring had been on her finger. Sergio could not prove that she’d never been pregnant at all, but he’d always suspected. When she’d asked for a divorce as soon as Bella’s career had taken off, his suspicions had been confirmed. Not that he’d said as much to his father. The poor man had been shattered, having truly loved Dolores. And Bella as well.

Sergio didn’t blame Bella entirely for what she’d become. Stage mothers were notorious for producing damaged children. And Bella was definitely damaged. Why else would she become involved with a succession of men whose reputations preceded them and who would never make her happy? It galled Sergio that Bella lived her life like one long reality show, played out in front of the media, allowing herself to be paraded in front of the paparazzi by men who were more interested in her as a trophy than a person.

And who are you to judge, Sergio? his conscience reminded him quite savagely. She’s no longer a person to you either. She hasn’t been, not since the night of her sixteenth birthday party. That was the night she became your object of desire, a desire so strong that nothing, not time or distance, or having another woman in your bed, can totally obliterate it. You think you care about her? That’s a laugh.

His phone ringing at that precise moment sent his heart leaping into his mouth. Snatching it out of his pocket, Sergio didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID.

‘Yes?’ he said somewhat brusquely.

‘Alex here, mate. Sorry, but we’re stuck in traffic. Going to be a bit late.’

‘Damn it all, Alex,’ Sergio snapped, frustrated that it wasn’t Bella calling him back. ‘The reason I bought a place at Canary Wharf was because it was supposedly close to everything.’ And also because the tower that housed his luxury apartment had a heated pool, a fantastic gym and a top-class restaurant.

‘Yeah, well, Thursday night, you know. And Jeremy was pathetically slow getting dressed. Look, we shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. Go sit at the table and have a drink till we get there. You sound like you need one.’

Sergio sighed. ‘You could be right.’

‘Anything wrong?’

‘Not really. Just a bit tired.’ He might have told them about Bella’s call if he’d known what it was about. But he didn’t, damn it all. Maybe he’d never know. Maybe she’d never ring back. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he could stand that.

‘Well, it’s been a big day,’ Alex said. ‘But a great one. You are one incredible negotiator, buddy. Now go relax with a whisky, and we’ll be there soon.’

CHAPTER TWO

BELLA DIDN’T STOP shaking for a good five minutes after she’d hung up. Even then her heart was still racing, her mouth dry, her head whirling. Never in her life had she ever had a full-blown panic attack. But she knew all about them, a colleague of hers suffering from severe panic attacks before opening nights. Bella knew all the symptoms. She’d just never experienced them personally.

Admittedly, she’d been a bit nervous before ringing Sergio, but that was only natural. She still felt guilty over the way her mother had treated his father. If she was strictly honest with herself, she didn’t feel she had the right to ask Sergio for help. Not after what her mother had done. If anyone was to blame for that panic attack, it was her mother!

Bella hadn’t found out till the middle of last year just how badly her mother had treated Sergio’s father, Dolores admitting one night whilst supposedly giving her daughter advice about men and marriage that she herself had used a pretend pregnancy to trap her Italian boss into marrying her; that she’d never really loved the man; that she’d been willing to do anything to secure the financial support she’d needed to make her daughter into a star. Her earlier claim that she’d asked for a divorce because her husband no longer loved her had been a lie.

Bella had been so appalled by her mother’s cold-blooded confessions that she’d felt compelled to seek out the man whom she’d once affectionately called Papa and apologise. Tracking him down had proved difficult—there was no mention of him on the internet—but she’d finally managed with the help of a private investigator, only to discover Alberto was close to death in a Milan hospital. Guilt had seen her dropping everything and flying over to Milan, determined to tell him in person that she always remembered him with great fondness and that she really appreciated all he’d done for her.

By the time she’d arrived at the hospital, however, he’d already died. So she’d gone to his funeral instead. In disguise, of course. She hadn’t wanted to cause the family—especially Sergio—any embarrassment, knowing that if the paparazzi recognised her, then the service could turn into a three-ring circus.

It had been one of the most difficult days of her life, sitting all by herself in that huge cold cathedral, silently witnessing Sergio’s palpable grief and wondering if her mother was indirectly guilty of his father’s death. It was often said that stress could cause cancer. And clearly, Dolores had given Alberto Morelli loads of stress and unhappiness during the eight years their marriage had lasted.

Yet he’d never shown that unhappiness around her. He’d been very good to her, sweet and kind, as had Sergio, who’d been a wonderful big brother, always willing to listen to her sing, or watch her dance. Looking back, she realised he’d been amazingly patient with her, not a virtue one often associated with teenage boys. Sergio had only been fifteen when her mother had married his father, she a rather silly and very precocious ten-year-old. He’d been a quiet boy, rather reserved in personality but awfully clever. And surprisingly good at sport. They’d often played basketball together in the backyard when he’d wanted a break from his studies.

She’d missed him terribly when he’d been sent away to a university in Rome, his father not wanting him to forget his Italian roots. She’d been thirteen at the time, a very skinny thirteen, the only girl in her class not to have hit puberty. She’d only seen Sergio three times a year after that, at Easter and Christmas when he’d flown back to Sydney for a few days, then for the two weeks during July when the family had holidayed at the family villa on Lake Como.

Oh, how she’d loved those holidays! What fun the two of them had had together, swimming and boating and just generally larking around.

Not the last time, though, she recalled, Sergio spending most of his time in his room, studying for his final exams. By the following year, their parents had already separated, Sergio had gone to Oxford for further studies and she’d been on her way to Broadway, and stardom. Their relationship—which she’d imagined had been close—had suddenly no longer existed. She’d missed her big brother at first but soon she’d been consumed by her career and the attention that went with it. Out of sight had eventually been out of mind.

They’d crossed paths only once in the years since, at an after-concert party in London. She hadn’t recognised him at first, he’d been so handsome and impressive looking, having finally filled out his tall, lanky frame. But his eyes had been the same. Hard to forget eyes like that. So dark and so beautiful, and she’d felt unsettled by the hardness in his gaze. It hadn’t taken her long to realise he’d still been angry with her mother—and with her too, she’d supposed—his politeness having a chilly edge to it.

There’d been no chilliness in his eyes at his father’s funeral, however, only sadness and a gentleness, which by then she hadn’t felt she deserved. Thank God she’d been wearing dark glasses, because behind them she’d been weeping silent tears of wretchedness and remorse. She knew that she should have contacted both him and his father after the divorce. Should have shown some regret and gratitude. Some decency! But she’d been too caught up at the time with the sudden burst of fame, with finally being on the verge of fulfilling her mother’s rabid ambition, and yes, Bella, admit it...fulfilling your own. She could excuse herself by saying she’d only been eighteen, but that was no excuse. No excuse at all!

Bella had been quite overcome when Sergio had written down his private number on a business card and told her to ring him if she ever needed anything, anything at all. His compassionate and unexpectedly generous gesture had threatened the last of her emotional control, so when a very attractive redhead had come up to them and linked arms with him, she’d stuffed the card into her handbag, said a hurried goodbye and fled before she’d burst into noisy tears in front of everyone.

Tears threatened again now. Tears of frustration and misery. She hadn’t slept well last night. She hadn’t slept well in ages. Truly, she could not go on like this. She had to get away. Away from everyone who she knew down deep didn’t have her best interests at heart. They only wanted what they could get out of her, which was why they kept pressuring her to take on more and more work. Bella had acquired a long list of hangers-on over the last few years. At present she had a manager, a Hollywood agent, a PA, a publicist, plus her own personal stylist. Then, of course, hovering in the background, was her mother.

They all wanted their cut. All wanted their piece of her.

She had no time to herself. No time for a personal life. No time for anything but work.

Lately, she’d begun to feel as if she were on a roller-coaster ride that never stopped. She never stopped. Well it had to stop. She had to stop. And she had to stop right now!

‘So stop being such a lily-livered coward and ring Sergio back,’ she ordered herself.

Stiffening her spine, Bella ignored her suddenly pounding heart, grabbed her phone and hit redial.

CHAPTER THREE

SERGIO WAS SITTING at the table with the best view of the river, sipping a glass of Scotch on the rocks and doing his best to relax, when his phone rang.

His heart jumped, his gut twisting into knots as he glanced at the caller ID, a wave of relief hitting him with the force of a tsunami. Because it wasn’t Alex, ringing again to say they would be even later. The caller ID was blocked. Which meant it was Bella, calling him back. Thank God. Sergio suspected he would not have been able to sleep tonight if she hadn’t. He would have had to do something really ridiculous, like hire a private investigator to find out her number, or her address. Or some way of contacting her.

How pathetic was that?

Truly, Sergio, get a grip!

But it was futile advice, his fingers tightening around the phone as he lifted it to his ear. But his voice—when he spoke—sounded wonderfully calm and seemingly relaxed. ‘Hello, Bella.’

‘Heavens! How did you know it was me?’

‘You blocked your ID,’ he explained. ‘No one else who uses my private number does that.’

‘Oh, I see...’

‘So what happened earlier? Why did you hang up?’

‘Sorry about that. But Mum suddenly came to my door and I didn’t want her to know I was ringing you.’

Sergio was truly taken aback. ‘Your mother lives with you?’

‘Lord, no. I live by myself in New York. But I came back to Sydney a few days ago for a holiday. More fool me,’ she added drily. ‘Look, have I called you at a bad time? Are you too busy to talk? Where are you? I can hear quite a bit of noise in the background.’

A loud group of men had just passed by Sergio’s table.

‘I’m in a restaurant, waiting for some friends of mine to arrive. But they’re running late. London traffic is not conducive to punctuality.’

‘New York’s just as bad. So you’re still living in London?’

‘I bought an apartment here,’ he told her, wondering what she was getting at. He was also beginning to see that his earlier concern for her welfare had been ridiculous. But that was typical of his reactions where Bella was concerned. They were always over the top and dangerously lacking in logic.

‘So how can I help you, Bella?’ he asked, knowing full well that her problem would be nothing like he’d been imagining.

‘I was wondering...do you still have that villa on Lake Como? You didn’t sell it after your father passed away, did you?’

‘No. I would never sell the villa. It’s been in the Morelli family for generations. Why?’

‘I...I need to get away, Sergio. Somewhere private and peaceful. I was hoping to rent it from you for two or three weeks. Maybe even a month.’

‘I see,’ he said, suppressing his annoyance with difficulty. If she wanted to rent a damned villa on Lake Como there were plenty on the market. Why ask for his? One part of him wanted to tell her to go to hell. But that other part—the one that still wanted her, despite everything—could not resist the opportunity to see her again. In the flesh. Her absolutely gorgeous exquisite flesh.

‘So when would you be wanting to stay there?’ he asked, casually.

‘Straight away,’ she said. ‘Or at least as soon as I can get there. Like I said, I’m in Sydney at the moment.’

At her mother’s house, he thought bitterly, the one his father had generously given to that gold-digger as part of their divorce settlement.

‘I gather that Dolores won’t be coming with you to the villa, then?’

‘Good God, no. I want to come alone.’

That shook him, since he had presumed that she would be coming with her latest lover. Suddenly, Sergio could not contain a rush of dark excitement. He’d never pursued Bella over the years, despite his obsessive desire for her. And he could have, once he was older, especially after their wine bars had been such a great success and the money had started rolling in. After all, she was no longer his stepsister, no longer forbidden fruit. So why hadn’t he?

For lots of reasons, he accepted. Pride mostly. He was Italian, after all. He would not have reacted well to rejection. Running after a woman—any woman—was not his style. Running after the daughter of the gold-digger who’d broken his father’s heart would have felt like the ultimate betrayal, plus the height of stupidity. After all, the apple never fell far from the tree, did it? If Bella had responded to his advances, he would never have been sure if her feelings were real, or faked, especially after he’d become seriously rich.

But this was different. Her placing herself in his debt made it different.

‘I’m sorry, Bella,’ he said, relishing his moment of power over her, ‘but I can’t let you rent the villa any time soon. I’m going to be staying there myself all during July.’

‘Oh,’ she said, conveying a wealth of disappointment and dismay in that one word.

‘But you can stay there with me free of charge,’ he offered. ‘If you don’t mind having a bit of company.’

‘Just you?’ she said, sounding slightly hesitant. ‘I mean...you won’t have anyone else there with you?’

‘No. Just me. And Maria, during the daytime.’

‘The same Maria who used to do the cooking and cleaning back in the old days?’

‘The one and the same. But she doesn’t live in now. She’s married and lives in a nearby village with her husband, Carlo. He does the garden, when it needs to be done, and the pool, during the summer. Maria comes in regularly when someone is staying there. Which isn’t all that often since my father passed away.’

Her sigh sounded sad. ‘I still feel terrible about your father.’

Sergio gritted his teeth. He didn’t want her apologising again.

The sight of Alex and Jeremy entering the foyer brought Sergio to a quick decision. ‘I’m sorry to cut you off, Bella, but my friends have just arrived. If you could give me your phone number, I promise I’ll ring you back later this evening and we’ll make concrete plans.’ A quick mental calculation reassured him that it would still be morning in Australia, even at midnight in London. ‘Meanwhile, book a flight to Milan and get yourself packed. And for pity’s sake, don’t tell your mother where you’re going. In fact, don’t tell anyone where you’re going. I don’t want the paparazzi hovering over the villa in a helicopter trying to get a shot of the infamous Bella and her latest lover, okay?’

‘What? Oh, yes, yes, I see what you mean. They do like to jump to conclusions, don’t they? Especially about me. I promise I won’t tell a single soul. Gosh, you’ve no idea how much I appreciate this, Sergio. I always—’

‘Have to go now, Bella,’ he interrupted brusquely. ‘Your number, please?’

She gave him her number and he hung up just as Alex and Jeremy reached the table, Sergio turning his phone right off before slipping it back in his pocket.

The face he lifted to greet his friends would have looked calm enough. Sergio was not in the habit of showing his emotions, which was just as well, given the thoughts that were going on in his head. He could still hardly believe it. Bella! In his home and in his debt!

Sergio had never believed himself a ruthless man. Or a vengeful one. It seemed he was even more Italian than he’d thought.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ Alex said as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

Alex, Sergio finally noted, had dressed casually in dark blue jeans and a pale blue shirt, whilst Jeremy was still wearing a suit. Not the navy pinstripe he’d worn earlier today but a superb grey three-piece with a purple shirt and a lilac tie.

‘Setting up a date for tomorrow night?’ Jeremy asked as he too sat down.

‘Sergio doesn’t go on dates,’ Alex said drily. ‘He has sleepovers.’

‘Cheapskate,’ Jeremy said, though affectionately. ‘The least you can do is pay for a girl’s dinner before you take her to bed. So who are you sleeping with these days?’

‘That’s none of your business,’ Sergio returned coolly, deciding right then and there not to tell either of them about Bella’s call. He didn’t want either of his friends swaying him from the course of action he’d decided to take. ‘Come on, let’s hurry up and order. I’m starving.’

That was another thing about this restaurant that Sergio liked. The speed with which drinks and meals were delivered. In no time a bottle of champagne was opened and poured, two plates of herb bread arriving at the same time to soak up some of the alcohol.

It would have been a highly enjoyable evening if his mind hadn’t been on other things. Namely how he was going to seduce Bella, which of course was what he had every intention of doing. In all honesty he hadn’t had much practice at actual seduction. Tall, dark and handsome men—especially well-heeled ones—rarely had to resort to outright seduction. But just tall, dark and handsome might not cut it with Bella. He supposed he could tell her he was now a billionaire—women like Bella could never have enough money—but that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as having her come to his bed willingly, not because she was attracted to his money, but because she was attracted to him.

Sergio mulled over what approach would appeal to Bella all through his entrée. He came to the conclusion during his main course that her relationship history suggested she was attracted to bad boys, something Sergio was not. At least...not till now.

I can do bad boy, he decided over dessert. Because of course, now that he had the opportunity, he would do anything—anything at all—to have Bella in his bed, at least once. No, not just once. Once would not be nearly enough to obliterate the heat that was already gathering in his tortured loins. He would need a whole month of sex before he’d grow tired of her. And not just straightforward sex either. He wanted to have her every which way there was, wanted to experience all the wildly wanton things that those other boyfriends of hers would have insisted upon.

And when the month was over, after he’d had his fill, he would send her on her merry masochistic way, after which he would set about finding himself a nice girl to marry.

Good plan, that, he decided as he devoured his last mouthful of crème caramel. Though maybe good was not the right word.

‘You’re in a strange mood tonight, Sergio,’ Jeremy remarked over coffee. ‘I know Alex and I are the major talkers in our trio but you usually contribute a little more to the conversation. So what gives? You having woman trouble?’

Sergio smothered a laugh. Woman trouble didn’t even begin to describe the effect Bella’s call had had on him. But he did feel somewhat calmer now that he had a definite plan in mind to deal with his ongoing and obsessive desire for her. All that remained was to execute that plan successfully and she would cease to be a problem.

Meanwhile, he decided to broach the subject he’d been going to bring up before Bella had rung. After all, the three of them might not get together again in person for ages and, as they were fellow members of the Bachelors’ Club, he believed they had a right to know what his future intentions were.

‘In a way,’ he replied enigmatically. ‘The opposite sex certainly does figure in what I am about to say.’

‘That sounds ominous,’ Alex said.

‘Not ominous. But serious. Yes. I’ve decided that I’m going to get married.’

Alex sucked in sharply whereas Jeremy just smiled.

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ he said wryly.

‘Well, it surprises me!’ Alex said, scowling at Sergio. ‘I thought after your father’s divorce you swore off marriage for ever.’

Sergio shrugged. ‘That’s ancient history. Now that my father’s passed away and we’ve sold the franchise, I feel the urge for a more settled life.’ Or he would, after he’d fixed up his other, more immediate urges. ‘I want a family, Alex.’

Alex sighed, then nodded. ‘Fair enough.’

‘So who’s the lucky lady?’ Jeremy asked.

‘Yes, who the hell is she?’ Alex joined in.

‘I have no idea,’ Sergio told them. ‘I haven’t met her yet. I was thinking of an Italian girl. Someone whose family lives in or near Milan, since that’s where I’ll be working from now on.’

Alex just shook his head whilst Jeremy nodded, as though in agreement. ‘Good thinking, Sergio. Italian girls are passionate creatures and excellent breeders, which I presume is your main reason for getting married. To have children.’

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘And I want more than one child. Which means my wife will have to be young. And pretty, of course. And preferably from a wealthy family. I’ll ask the Countess to throw a few parties at her villa. She knows everyone in the district who is anyone.’ The Countess was his closest neighbour at Lake Como, a wealthy widow in her fifties who’d been a good friend to his father, and him. Though naturally, he wouldn’t have her arrange anything till Bella had left.

‘But what about love?’ Alex interjected, sounding unexpectedly horrified. ‘You can’t marry someone you’re not madly in love with.’

‘For pity’s sake, Alex,’ Jeremy snapped. ‘Being madly in love is the worst reason to get married. Trust me. I know. My father, mother and brothers are always falling madly in love and it never lasts. Sergio’s got the right idea. Marry some sweet little thing who adores you and wants nothing more than to be a wife and mother and you’ll be happy as a pig in mud.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘You know, I always suspected you were a husband in waiting.’

‘Why do you say that?’

Jeremy chuckled. ‘All that righteous disapproval you exhibited when I was playing the field.’

Alex snorted. ‘You’re still playing the field.’

‘True. It’s hard to give up a game that’s so much fun and which, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I have a singular talent for. Both of you have been critical at times of my callously breaking hearts but I can honestly say that not one of my ex-girlfriends think badly of me. When I break up with them I always let them down gently, and with great empathy for their feelings.’

‘Oh, truly,’ Alex exclaimed, but laughingly. ‘What shall we do with this cockcrowing devil, Sergio? Give him a gold medal for lover of the year?’

‘Possibly. His record suggests he does have great skill in that area.’ A sudden thought came to Sergio. ‘So how do you do it, Jeremy? I mean, say there’s a girl you meet whom you fancy like mad but who doesn’t fancy you back. How do you go about getting her into bed? What’s your first and best seductive move? This is a hypothetical case, of course,’ he quickly added. ‘Maybe that’s never happened to you.’

‘Can’t recall that it has.’

‘But if it did, what would you do?’ Sergio persisted.

Jeremy sipped his coffee as he gave the matter some thought.

‘After today,’ Alex said drily, ‘he’d just have to show the girl the size of his bank balance. She’d start fancying him straight away.’

Jeremy rolled his eyes at Alex as he put down his coffee cup. ‘Such cynicism. I have never had to resort to mercenary measures to get any girl I wanted.’

‘Spoken by a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth,’ Alex muttered under his breath.

‘Boys, boys,’ Sergio reprimanded. ‘Behave yourselves! I am trying to do some serious research here. I want to know what tactics Jeremy would use to get such a girl interested. You too, Alex,’ he suggested. ‘Surely you must have come across some desirable young thing who didn’t just fall into your lap. Come on, both of you. I want to know what you’d do under those circumstances.’

‘Well, I suppose I would try laying on the charm first,’ Jeremy said. ‘Tell her how great I thought she was. Not beautiful. Beautiful women are cynical about being complimented on their beauty. Better to concentrate on their other qualities. Then if that didn’t work, I would place myself in her company as much as possible but ignore her completely. Use the old reverse psychology tactic. You know the adage... Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen.’

‘Can’t say I agree with either of those tactics,’ Alex said.

‘So what would you do, lover boy?’ Jeremy asked.

‘First, I would find out everything I could about her. Her background. Her friends. What she liked to do. What she liked. Then I would ask her out somewhere that she’d love to go, somewhere seriously special, somewhere which cost a bomb. Best seats at a concert, for instance. Or the red carpet premiere of a movie which starred an actor she liked. Then, if that didn’t work, I’d say how much I admired and desired her and that if she didn’t go out with me then I would have to go to Thailand and become a monk.’

Sergio could not help it. He laughed. Jeremy just looked incredulous.

‘And has that ever worked?’ Jeremy asked. ‘The monk business?’

‘Don’t know. Never tried it. Never needed to go that far. Sorry, Sergio, but girls do seem to fall into my lap without much effort on my part.’

Sergio didn’t doubt it. Though all three of them had been blessed in the looks department, Alex was exceptionally good-looking. Very tall and very handsome, with blond hair, blue eyes and a body that he’d honed to perfection in the gym.

‘You won’t have any trouble getting any girl you want,’ Alex directed at Sergio. ‘But don’t go rushing into marriage, mate. You’ve waited this long. Give true love a chance.’

‘I never realised you were such a romantic,’ Sergio said, suddenly anxious to get this dinner over and ring Bella back.

‘Me either,’ Jeremy intoned drily. ‘I can see that our bachelors’ club might be losing two of its members soon, not just one.’

Alex just smiled. ‘Not me. I don’t have any plans to settle down any time soon. If ever. I’m much too busy. I have a golf resort to finish for starters. You know the one.’

‘Not sure that I do,’ Sergio said.

‘The one you bought after the owner went bankrupt?’ Jeremy asked.

‘Yep. Got a bargain, I did. But it’s a massive project, one which needs me to be hands-on a good deal of the time. I’ve already worn out one set of tyres driving to and fro up there. At the same time, I’ve got a few blocks of units going up in Western Sydney. With interest rates so low, the real-estate market there is booming. Truth is if I hadn’t found the most perfect little PA last year who does everything for me bar tie my shoelaces, I wouldn’t even have time to have sex.’

‘Hmm.’ Jeremy’s glance was speculative. ‘Is she attractive, this perfect little PA of yours?’

‘Actually yes, she’s very attractive. I like being around attractive people. But I’m not an idiot, dear friend. Harry’s very much engaged and very much in love. I never mix business with pleasure.’

‘A sensible rule,’ Sergio said. ‘I suppose her real name’s Harriet,’ he added, knowing Alex’s penchant for nicknames. He’d actually tried to call Jeremy Jerry when they’d first met, till Jeremy had put his foot down.

‘And what about you, Jeremy?’ Sergio asked. ‘Anyone special in your life at the moment?’

‘Can’t say that there is. I do date, of course. But no one special. Trust me when I say I will be a member of the Bachelors’ Club till the day I die. Possibly the only member, by the sounds of things.’

‘You don’t have to marry, you know,’ Alex said. ‘You could always live with someone. Have a baby, even.’

‘I don’t like babies,’ Jeremy said offhandedly. ‘I also don’t want to live with anyone. I like living by myself. I like being selfish.’

Alex frowned. ‘You’re not selfish. You’re a very warm, generous man and a terrific friend.’

Jeremy came as close to blushing as Sergio had ever seen.

‘And you, my friend,’ Jeremy shot back whilst trying not to look too pleased, ‘are the biggest bull-dust artist in the world. You could sell ice to Eskimos. You’re going to make another billion before you’re finished.’

‘I sincerely hope so,’ Alex concurred. ‘I have a lot of poor people to house and their kids to educate.’

‘You and your charities,’ Jeremy said. ‘I suppose you’ll be hitting me for more donations after today.’

‘Absolutely. And you too, Sergio. I’ll email you both with the details and amounts. Now I don’t know about you two, but I’m bushed. It’s been a long day. On top of that, I have a twenty-three-hour flight back to Sydney tomorrow. So let’s get the bill. Sergio, you can pay since you got the lion’s share today.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said, and reached for his wallet.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I DON’T UNDERSTAND why you can’t tell me where you’re going,’ Dolores complained. ‘In fact I don’t understand why you have to go anywhere at all! I thought you’d come home to have a holiday.’

Bella glanced up from her packing to give her mother a droll look. ‘It’s hardly a holiday when you keep hammering away at me to do that movie Charlie wants me to do. If I’ve told you once, Mum, I’ve told you a thousand times, I do not want to do movies.’

‘Then why did you get yourself a Hollywood agent?’

‘I didn’t. Josh did. I only agreed because at the time some famous producer in Hollywood was thinking of making a movie version of An Angel in New York. I would have done that. After that project fell through I kept Charlie on because I thought maybe some other party might pick up the option. But that hasn’t happened yet. Meanwhile, I do not intend to do some second-rate musical which just wants to use my name to get distribution.’

‘How do you know it’s second rate?’

‘I’ve read the script. And the songs are rubbish.’

‘Scripts can be changed. And songs can be rewritten. Charlie says they’ve hired a top director.’

Bella sighed. ‘See what I mean? You just won’t stop. That’s why I’m going away. And why I’m not going to tell you where I’m going. It’s not as though you can’t still contact me on my mobile,’ she added, immediately making a mental note to turn the infernal thing off the moment she hit Lake Como. ‘Now would you please leave me alone? I have to finish packing and I need to leave for the airport soon.’

That was a lie. Bella hadn’t even booked a taxi yet. She had, however, secured a flight to Milan, leaving Mascot later today. Not a direct flight, of course. They didn’t seem to exist from Sydney. She would have to endure a couple of stops. One in Singapore and then again in Rome. It was going to take her eons to get there but, hopefully, she might get some much-needed sleep on the way. Also hopefully, Sergio wouldn’t let her down when he finally rang back. If he changed his mind about her staying at his villa, then she’d go anyway and check into a hotel on Lake Como. Lots of the large old villas had been made into boutique hotels.

Bella had every confidence, however, that Sergio would not let her down, not after telling her to book a flight. Sergio had obviously matured into a decent man, like his father. Nothing like the kind of man she kept getting mixed up with and who always let her down in the end.

‘It must be somewhere warm, by the look of the clothes you’re taking,’ her mother said, having not moved an inch from where she was standing at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed, her expression as stubborn as usual.

Bella didn’t comment, just kept on packing.

‘Dare I hope you’ve come to your senses and are going to meet up with Andrei in Europe somewhere? It is summer over there, isn’t it? If truth be told, I still can’t fathom why you left him in the first place.’

Exasperation finally had Bella’s head lifting, her glare more than a little angry. ‘I didn’t actually leave Andrei, Mum. We never lived together. I broke up with him because he was sleeping with other women at the same time as he was sleeping with me.’

‘So you said. But truly, Bella, all seriously wealthy men have wandering eyes. And Andrei isn’t just wealthy. He’s a billionaire many times over. I read on the internet that he’s just opened the most luxurious hotel in the world in Istanbul. Just think what kind of life you could have as his wife. He doesn’t care about those other girls. It’s you he pursued and wanted. You he would have proposed to, in the end.’

‘No, he wouldn’t have, Mum. Andrei’s not the marrying kind.’

‘Which is why I advised you to get pregnant. He would have married you then. A proud man like that would not have wanted to have an illegitimate child.’

Bella shook her head, thinking ruefully she should have told her mother the truth about Andrei. Yes, he was proud but was also totally selfish with absolutely no conscience. He’d fallen in lust with her when he’d seen her on stage one night in New York, pursuing her quite ruthlessly—and romantically—till she’d given in and gone to bed with him. At the time, she’d actually thought he loved her, and vice versa.

Unfortunately, their sex life was not a great success. Her fault, of course. It was always her fault; all of her lovers over the years—and there’d been a lot less than the tabloids suggested—having grown bored with her after a relatively short while. None of them could believe that she was actually quite shy in the bedroom. That was why she’d been a virgin till she was twenty-one, and why it always took a very determined admirer to seduce her.

When Bella had confronted Andrei with his unfaithfulness last year—his cavorting on the deck of his yacht with some female had been all over the gossip rags—he’d claimed that her lack of passion was why he had to have other women. He’d said he’d grown tired of her refusing to do all the erotic and exotic things he craved. But he would put up with her being somewhat boring in bed, he’d added, because he loved having a woman of her exquisite beauty on his arm in public. He’d even offered to buy her an apartment in Paris, if she would overlook his other mistresses and continue to go out with him. He’d actually been shocked when she’d told him their relationship—such as it was—was over. Andrei was not used to rejection from the opposite sex.

Of course, if Bella had told her mother all that, she would have said that she’d been a fool not to at least accept the apartment in Paris.

She was indomitable, her mother. Indomitable and dominating and downright infuriating, with a moral compass that was as suspect as Andrei’s. Bella had grown up thinking Dolores was wonderful: a single mother who’d become estranged from her own family when she’d fallen pregnant during a working holiday overseas; supposedly seduced by a married Swedish chap she’d met on the snowfields of Switzerland. She’d refused to tell her disgusted parents the father’s name, refused to have an abortion, then refused to live under their roof by their rules. Bella had admired that. If it were true, that was. She’d come to believe in recent times that maybe a lot of what Dolores had told her over the years might not have been strictly true. Still, it was true that Dolores had worked hard to give her daughter everything she’d needed. She’d even managed to budget her meagre wage as a receptionist to pay for dance and singing lessons. Though not with the kind of teacher she’d wanted for her talented Isabel.

So when a new boss had arrived on the scene, an Italian widower who’d been sent out to Sydney by his father to head the Australian branch of the family’s import business, Dolores had seen the answer to all her problems. From photographs Bella had seen, Dolores had been a very attractive woman back then. Poor Alberto hadn’t stood a chance, and soon Dolores had acquired a husband able to provide everything for his new stepdaughter that Dolores had wanted. Not only the best private tuition money could buy but also enrolment at a top school that specialised in the performing arts.

And the rest, as they said, was history.

Bella looked at her mother and wished she didn’t still love the woman. Impossible not to, she supposed. She was her mother. On top of that, she knew Dolores did love Bella back, even if she was a pain in the neck.

‘Mum,’ she said firmly. ‘I am not going to Europe to meet up with Andrei. Neither am I going to tell you where I’m going, except to say that I am going alone. Now I want you to leave this room ASAP. If you don’t, I will pick you up bodily and carry you out.’ Which she could. All those years of dancing had made Bella very strong. She was also a good eight inches taller than her mother, who barely topped five feet. Bella had obviously inherited her height and fair colouring from her Swedish father.

‘Well, really!’ Dolores exclaimed with a huff and a puff. ‘There’s no need to get nasty. I don’t need telling twice when I’m not wanted. Just don’t come crawling back to me the next time you need a place to run to.’ And she stormed off.

Just in time too, Bella’s phone ringing less than ten seconds after Dolores had slammed the bedroom door.

Relief flooded Bella when she saw it was Sergio calling. Relief and excitement. Already she was looking forward to seeing him again; to being in the company of someone she could relax with.

‘Sergio,’ she answered with pleasure in her voice. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to call. As luck would have it, I’ve been able to get a flight which leaves Mascot late this afternoon.’

‘That was quick,’ he said.

‘Yes, well, flying first class does have its advantages. But there’s still two stopovers. One in Singapore and one in Rome. I won’t arrive in Milan for simply ages.’

His silence on the other end of the line worried her for a moment. ‘You still want me to come, don’t you?’

‘Oh, definitely,’ he said. ‘I’m very much looking forward to it.’

Bella smiled. It was good that he actually wanted her to come. She didn’t like to think he’d said yes out of pity for her.

‘It will be good to catch up,’ she said. ‘I’ll want to hear about everything you’ve been up to over the past decade or so. I know we ran into each other a few years back but we didn’t actually talk much. I presume you’ve been successful at whatever you’ve been doing. You looked very impressive that night. But then you always were frightfully clever.’

‘I’ve done all right for myself over the years,’ he said with a modesty she wasn’t used to in men. Usually they couldn’t wait to brag. ‘As have you, Bella. Impossible not to know about your successes when your life is lived in the spotlight. But let’s not waste time exchanging personal details over the phone. I’d much rather do that when I see you in the flesh. Now I suggest you text me the time of your arrival when you get closer to Milan airport—at your last stopover, perhaps—and I will arrange for a car to pick you up. What name will you be travelling under? Not Bella, I hope.’

‘Good God, no. I booked the seat under the name of Isabel Cameron. I wasn’t always known as just Bella, you know.’

‘Yes, I know. You were just Isabel when we first met.’

‘So I was. But you used to call me Izzie. Till Mum told you not to. She said it was an awful nickname. She even complained about it to your father, do you remember?’

‘I remember. Papa agreed with her and told me that if I had to shorten your name, I should call you Bella.’

Bella smiled at the memory. ‘Which is hardly much shorter. But I did like it, especially after your father said it meant beautiful in Italian.’

‘And wars.’

‘What?’

‘Bella is also the plural of bellum, meaning war in Latin.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know that. Anyway, Sergio, if you’re worried about people recognising me, then don’t. Once I put on a wig and glasses, no one ever recognises me. Tell the driver to hold up a sign with Dolores Cameron on it.’

‘Fine,’ he said crisply.

‘You are sure about this, Sergio?’ she asked, suddenly worried that she was imposing. ‘I mean I could stay at one of the local hotels instead.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘I always did like your company.’

‘Did you really? I always thought I drove you mad, dragging you away from your studies to watch me perform all the time.’

‘You were an incorrigible little attention seeker, I have to admit,’ he said, a smile in his voice. ‘But you were also very talented. Watching you sing and dance was no hardship. Playing you at basketball, however, was a bit of a trial, especially after you cried when you didn’t win.’

‘I did not cry!’ she protested.

‘Yes, you did. The first time we played. After that, I let you win occasionally.’

She laughed. ‘And I always thought I’d won fair and square.’

‘Nothing in life is fair and square, Bella,’ he said on a suddenly serious note.

‘True,’ she agreed, thinking of all the skulduggery that went on in the entertainment industry. ‘I’d better go, Sergio,’ she added with some reluctance. She’d really enjoyed talking to him and reminiscing about old times. Happier times. Once again, Bella regretted not having kept in contact with Sergio after the divorce. Still, no use crying over spilt milk. They were in contact now and she aimed not to let him get away again. She could use a big brother in her life, someone who would always give her good advice, someone who didn’t have a secret agenda of his own. ‘I’ll text you when I get to Rome.’

‘Excellent. Oh, and, Bella...’

‘What?’

‘Don’t forget. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going, or who you’re staying with.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t. Ciao,’ she finished up on an excited note, then hung up.

CHAPTER FIVE

SERGIO PLACED HIS phone on the bedside table, letting out a long sigh as he lay back against the pillows, his conscience urging him to change his mind about the course he’d set in motion tonight. But it was too late, of course. Way too late. He’d passed the point of no return the moment Bella had asked him to let her rent the villa.

He had to see this through, even if it was a disaster waiting to happen. For already Sergio suspected that seducing Bella might have consequences that would be not so easily dismissed.

Not a pregnancy. He wasn’t stupid enough to let that happen. He was thinking of emotional consequences. The last thing he wanted to do was fall in love with her. Falling in lust with Bella was bad enough. But he could survive that. Hell, he had survived it. Just. Falling in love with her, however, was another ball game.

And it could happen, especially if he was going to spend so much time with her.

Then don’t spend too much time with her, Sergio, came the brutally logical advice. Once you get her into your bed, go to Milan to work during the day and only come home to the villa at night.

Good thinking, Sergio.

Which only leaves the problem of getting her into your bed in the first place.

Easier said than done.

Clearly, she still thinks of you as her big brother; that rather quiet, introverted boy she first met. First impressions did tend to stick. He would have to make sure that, this time, she saw nothing of that boy. This time, Bella had to see someone very different. Not a totally bad boy. Sergio suspected he would not be able to bring off such a radical change in character with conviction. But there was room for a little wickedness and a lot of boldness.

He took some confidence from Bella’s comment that she’d found him impressive when she’d seen him at that party a few years back. Though of course he’d been wearing a tux that night. Women often found a man impressive looking in a tux. Sergio needed Bella to be impressed by him out of his tux. He had a good body. Well shaped and well toned, with olive skin and surprisingly little body hair for an Italian. He also had an impressive package, a genetic blessing that women seemed to like. A lot. They might say size didn’t matter but he’d found that, on the whole, the opposite was true.

Sergio sucked in sharply as he envisaged how it would feel, having sex with Bella. His body started envisaging it too. Damn. Now he would have trouble sleeping. Yet he had an early start tomorrow, even earlier than his original plans for this Friday. He’d been going to spend the whole day in the franchise’s head office, thanking the staff for all their hard work as well as preparing them for the handover to their new bosses next Monday. Impossible now. All he could afford was a few hours in the morning. Unfortunate, but he would soften his abrupt departure by giving them the rest of the day off and paying in advance for them to have a handover party at a local pub.

Sergio hated cutting and running, but he had no option. He needed to get to Lake Como, pronto, the villa having been unoccupied for some time, Sergio not having darkened its doorstep since Easter. He knew Maria would have kept the place clean, but it might need an extra spruce up. She also needed to be told that a guest was coming to stay. He would not tell her his guest’s identity in advance, however. Just that it was a female friend. He didn’t want her inadvertently leaking the information that Bella was coming to stay. And she might. Maria was a big fan of Bella’s, a factor that had irked Sergio over the years. Maria had loved Dolores’s beautiful daughter. Doted on her. Spoiled her, even. She had never forgotten her and had obviously found pleasure in Bella’s success.

Maria was going to be very excited when he finally revealed who the mystery guest was, Sergio realised with some frustration, this troubling thought swiftly followed by another. How on earth was he going to seduce Bella right under Maria’s nose without her finding out?

Impossible. Hell on earth! He’d backed himself into a corner here. Hardly an unusual situation where Bella was concerned. That creature had been nothing but trouble since the first day he’d clapped eyes on her.

No, no, Sergio, be honest here. The trouble didn’t start till her sixteenth-birthday party when she’d emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon, blowing him away with her grace, her grown-up beauty and her devastating sex appeal. He hadn’t been back to Sydney for several months; university life—and the sophistication of Rome—having more appeal than staying in a house run by a woman he disliked intensely. But Bella’s birthday had coincided with his mid-year break in June, and his father had insisted he come home for the celebration, after which they would all fly to Lake Como for their annual holiday. The last time he’d seen Bella on the previous Christmas, she’d been a skinny schoolgirl in a ponytail and braces.

She hadn’t been skinny that night. And her braces had been long gone. Instead, she’d worn make-up and the most exquisite party dress. White, of course. Dolores had known to dress her daughter in white, the colour making her look like an exquisite angel. Unfortunately, a sexy angel as well. Yet Sergio had felt sure she was still a virgin. Dolores would have seen to that.

So Sergio had been startled when Bella had come up to him and demanded a birthday kiss.

‘You’ll have to do, Sergio,’ she’d said without a hint of flirtation. ‘A girl has to be kissed on her sixteenth birthday and you’re the only male here, other than Papa. And he doesn’t count.’

Sergio hadn’t been ready for the effect on him when she’d gone up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his. For a split second, he’d been tempted to yank her hard against him, to part her innocent lips and plunge his tongue inside. He certainly hadn’t been an innocent at twenty-one, not after two and a half years at university. But he’d resisted the devil’s urging just in time, keeping the kiss to a platonic peck, which had obviously disappointed Bella, if her pout had been anything to go by.

Well, she’s not an innocent now, he reminded himself as he rose and headed for the bathroom. Time you stopped having cold showers and started having what you’ve always wanted.

Which was Bella herself, in his bed and at his mercy.

CHAPTER SIX

EXCITEMENT AND ANTICIPATION built in Bella the closer she got to the villa. Not long now, she thought eagerly, catching glimpses of the lake through the tall trees.

Suddenly, she no longer felt tired, a burst of adrenalin firing her blood, forcing it to run less sluggishly through her veins. When she’d first exited the plane in Milan, she’d been absolutely wrecked, having managed only the briefest of dozes between stopovers. Unbelievably, she’d forgotten to bring her sleeping tablets with her, which meant she was in for a few sleepless nights at best.

Insomnia was the very devil. Bella hated tossing and turning in bed all night. Hated the negative thoughts that besieged her at such times. Hated the feeling of loneliness, which had been getting worse lately. Still, with a bit of luck the fresh air and change of scene would do what no sleeping tablet could achieve. Make her relax. Make her unwind. Make her work out what she really wanted in life. Because, quite frankly, she wasn’t so sure any more.

There’d been a time when she’d thought she could have it all. An exciting and challenging career on the stage, with a devoted and supportive husband waiting in the wings to take her home afterwards to their lovely home and two happy children. A boy and girl, of course. Nothing but perfection in Bella’s dream world.

It had come as a shock to her as she’d turned thirty last week that she wasn’t even close to living that dream existence, with no hopes of achieving it any time in the near future. Okay, so she still had an exciting and challenging career. On paper. But it didn’t feel as exciting and challenging any more. It just felt like hard work.

As for the idea of a devoted and supportive husband waiting in the wings... That was a pipe dream! Such a man simply did not exist. Men weren’t devoted or supportive. At least, the ones she was attracted to weren’t. They’d all been selfish, arrogant and only wanted her as a notch on their belt, or a status symbol, never as a wife. As for children... Bella knew she could have a baby if she wanted. You didn’t need a husband for that these days. Just a sperm donor. She’d actually considered it—for about thirty seconds, the thought of being a single mother having no appeal whatsoever. She wanted her child—or children—to have a father as well as a mother, a man who actually loved and supported her, and who was hands-on with parenting.

‘Almost there, Signorina Cameron,’ the driver said, startling her out of her introspection.

The driver hadn’t been a talker, thank heavens. But he spoke perfect English, with not too heavy an Italian accent. His name was Luigi and he was about fifty.

‘Yes, I’m beginning to recognise things. I’ve been here before. Though not for several years.’

‘It has not changed. Lake Como. Italy...it does not change much.’

‘No,’ she agreed warmly. ‘That is part of its charm.’

The car pulled into a familiar gravel driveway, coming to a halt in front of tall wooden gates connected to a high stone wall. The gates looked new. The stone wall was not.

‘Signor Morelli died last year,’ Luigi told her in sombre tones as he pointed a remote controller at the gate.

‘Yes, I know. I went to his funeral.’

Luigi frowned at her in the rear-vision mirror. ‘You are not a relative.’

‘No. Just a friend.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded sadly. ‘I miss him. I was his driver for the last year of his life. He was a good man.’

‘Yes,’ Bella choked out. ‘He was.’

‘His son is a good man too.’

‘He certainly is,’ Bella agreed, glad to get off the subject of Alberto’s death.

She was almost relieved when the gates were finally open and Luigi’s attention was occupied with negotiating the Mercedes slowly round the crunchy gravel driveway that encircled a huge stone-edged fountain. As a child Bella had been shocked by the flagrant nudity of the three statues at the centre of the fountain. She still found the male statue slightly confronting. His sexual equipment was decidedly larger than normal, which possibly explained the looks of awe on his two female companions. Sergio’s grandfather—who’d been alive and well when Bella had first holidayed at the villa—had claimed that the model for the male statue was a distant ancestor of his who’d built the villa in the sixteenth century. A myth, Sergio had told her later that same day, explaining that the villa had been a monastery back then, the Morelli family not buying it till late in the nineteenth century. The fountain—despite looking centuries old—was a later addition, built just after the First World War.

‘You will learn, dear Izzie,’ Sergio had confessed quietly with a rueful smile, ‘that Italian men are given to boasting and bragging.’

Bella smiled at the memory. Not that she agreed with Sergio entirely. Yes, some Italian men liked to boast and brag. Sergio’s grandfather had been of that ilk and his father to a lesser degree. Alberto had certainly liked showing off his attractive new wife and his pretty little stepdaughter. Sergio, however, didn’t seem to have the need to impress others. Some people would have shouted to the rooftops that they were having the darling of Broadway as a guest in their home. But not Sergio. He’d insisted she tell no one where she was going, not even her mother.

Which suited Bella admirably, peace and privacy her priorities at the moment. She did wonder, however, if he’d told Maria that she was coming to stay.

Bella was still mulling over this question when the car came to a halt at the back entrance to the villa, the woman herself emerging through one of the heavy iron doors, her wide welcoming smile instantly answering that question.

Bella’s somewhat world-weary heart lifted anew at the sight of her. Why, she’d hardly changed at all! A little plumper perhaps but still with that wonderfully happy face, glossy black hair and dancing dark eyes. When Maria hurried down the stairs and held her arms out wide, Bella climbed from the car straight into the warmest, most welcoming hug she’d had in years.

When Maria exclaimed, ‘Oh, it is so good to see you again, Dolores!’ Bella pulled back and almost burst out laughing. Just in time she kept a poker face, understanding that this was all for Luigi’s benefit. Clearly, Maria knew full well who she was, despite the red wig and dark glasses she wore as a disguise.

Bella waited patiently whilst Luigi collected her luggage and carried it inside, after which she thanked him profusely and gave him a generous tip—she’d changed some money in Rome whilst waiting for the next leg of her flight. When he handed her his business card—in case she needed to be driven somewhere whilst she was here—she popped it in her jeans pocket then waved him off. Once he was safely gone, she whipped off the glasses and red wig and shook her fair hair free.

‘Can I be called Bella now?’ she asked Maria, who giggled in that delightfully girlish way Bella remembered.

‘Sì. But is it allowed, now you are rich and famous?’

Bella gave her a look of mock reproach. ‘If you start that nonsense I will have to speak to your employer. Which reminds me, where is Sergio? Is he here yet?’

‘Sì. He is helping Carlo with the garden and the pool. We did not know Sergio was to come here till later in July, so things have been a bit...what you say...neglectful? He said to tell you to go find him after you arrive.’

Bella smiled. She loved the way Maria spoke. Loved her Italian accent. Loved her little mistakes with English words. It was charming. She was charming. This whole place was charming.

‘Oh, Maria!’ she said with a deeply contented sigh. ‘You’ve no idea how happy I am to be here.’

‘Not as happy as Sergio. He is most...excited.’

Bella suspected Maria hadn’t got that word right. Sergio was not the excitable type. Never had been. As much as she admired his self-contained persona, Bella found his tendency to be slightly straitlaced a touch irritating. Bella had never forgotten the night of her sixteenth birthday when she’d boldly asked him to kiss her. Bold for her, since she wasn’t at all bold when it came to the opposite sex. But all the girls from her class had been there at the party. Several of them had even drooled over Sergio, who’d turned up looking very hot and hunky compared to the boys at school. One of the girls had actually dared her to go and kiss him, so she had. And what had he done? Stiffened all over then given her a one-second peck which had been both humiliating and rather hurtful, considering she’d thought she looked quite hot herself that night.

No, Sergio was not the excitable type. He certainly wasn’t a typical hot-blooded Italian male. A good man, though, as the driver said.

‘I might freshen up before I go find him,’ Bella said, linking arms with Maria and steering her inside out of the heat. She’d forgotten how hot it could get here in the summer. ‘What room have you put me in?’

‘Sergio said you were to have one of the rooms next to his. He is in the master bedroom.’

Of course, Bella thought. He was master of the house now.

In the old days all children—even Sergio—had slept on the top floor of the villa, in bedrooms which didn’t have the size or the luxury of the bedrooms on the middle floor, where all three rooms had en-suite bathrooms and French doors that opened out onto a wide, cool balcony. The master bedroom, which was central to the three, was extra large with a king-sized four-poster bed and the most decadent bathroom Bella had ever seen. All black marble and a huge sunken spa bath.

‘Do I have a choice of which bedroom?’ she asked as they mounted the stone staircase that led up to the first floor.

Maria shrugged. ‘It is no matter. They have both been freshly cleaned. You choose.’

‘Perhaps the one with the gold bedspread, then.’

Which was how Bella came to be unpacking in the room where her mother and Alberto had once slept when they had stayed there all those years ago, a delightful room whose décor was cream and gold and which Bella had always admired. It hadn’t changed over the years, she thought as she dispensed with her too-hot jeans and pulled out a cool wrap-around dress made in the softest silk. The lovely antique furniture was the same, as was the gold-embossed wallpaper and the semi-transparent curtains that blew softly in the breeze from the lake. The bathroom was just as beautiful, Bella thought as she put her hair up in a loose knot and had a quick shower, the floor and walls covered in a cream marble with gold veins running through it. The fittings were all gold, the cream towels thick and soft. Once dried and dressed, Bella decided not to bother with make-up. Or with any further titivating. She was on holiday, after all. And the paparazzi had no idea she was here.

She might have lain down for a sleep—the big soft bed beckoned—but politeness insisted she find Sergio and tell him of her arrival. Maria had said that Sergio hadn’t been expecting her for another hour or two yet. Understandable. When her plane had set down in Rome Bella had been told that the flight to Milan had been delayed an hour, with her text to Sergio informing him of the fact. But the plane had actually taken off only half an hour late with the pilot making up good time with favourable winds. So she’d arrived at the villa earlier than the mid-afternoon Sergio would have anticipated.

When Bella emerged from the bathroom, she headed out onto the balcony, which gave an excellent view, not just of the lake, but the villa’s lovely garden and grounds. Glancing down and around in search of Sergio, her eyes immediately landed on a man who was vacuuming the pool. He was tall and dark-haired, wearing nothing but a pair of brief swimming trunks, showing off an impressive physique.

Dear heaven, she thought as she ogled the way his back muscles moved underneath his gorgeous skin. Not fair skin like her own, but beautifully bronzed in the way only men of Mediterranean genes achieved without using artificial methods. He was beautiful all over, she thought, with broad shoulders and a nicely shaped head, crowned with thick black hair that gleamed in the sunshine. She could not stop staring down at him, her lonely heart envying Maria for ensnaring herself such a hunky husband. For this had to be Carlo.

But no sooner had this thought entered her head than Carlo lifted his head and looked straight up at her, his very familiar eyes bringing a gasp to her lips.

For it wasn’t Carlo but Sergio; the supposedly strait-laced, coolly contained Sergio, looking every inch the hot-blooded Italian his heritage demanded he be, his hair longer than she remembered, his chin covered with a dark stubble that looked very macho on him. Very...sexy.

‘What are you doing here this early?’ he said, smiling up at her.

Bella struggled to put aside her shock, both at Sergio’s near-naked beauty, plus her reaction to it. She didn’t want to be attracted to Sergio; didn’t want that kind of distraction, or complication. She’d come here for some much-needed rest. The last thing she needed was to be plagued by awkward feelings that were both unexpected and unwanted.

Damn it all, I do not want this, Bella thought with a burst of true frustration.

Hopefully, once Sergio put some clothes back on, she would be able to look at him and feel nothing but what she’d always felt for him, which was admiration and affection. Not sexual attraction.

Yet it was very much sexual attraction that was at this moment rattling her composure. She couldn’t stop staring at him, her heartbeat picking up its pace as it did just before she went on stage some nights. When her face began to flush with an embarrassing heat, Bella harnessed every ounce of willpower she owned and returned his smile.

‘The pilot put his foot down between Rome and Milan,’ she told him, her casual tone amazing her. Maybe she was as good an actress as Charlie said she was.

‘I see,’ Sergio replied. ‘Look, I’m almost finished here, which is just as well,’ he added ruefully. ‘I haven’t been this hot in living memory. Go down to the kitchen and get Maria to open a bottle of my favourite Chablis, will you? She knows the one. We can share it down here on the terrace. I’ll just have a quick swim first,’ he added and walked down to the far end of the pool, where he stood there with his legs slightly apart and his arms by his sides before glancing up at her again. ‘I’d suggest you join me in the pool but I imagine you’re feeling jet-lagged after such a long flight.’

‘I am tired,’ she managed to reply, thinking she hadn’t felt this hot in living memory either. Or ever, for that matter.

Despite her knowing she should stop ogling Sergio, her gaze kept roving over his near-naked body, marvelling at how utterly gorgeous he was without clothes on. Better looking than any man she’d ever been to bed with. He was perfectly shaped, his broad-shouldered chest tapering down into a slim waist, a tight butt and long, strong legs. He also had just the right amount of muscle. Whatever Sergio had been doing over the years he hadn’t become a couch potato. Which begged the question of what had he been doing with himself since their parents’ divorce? She doubted he’d been working in the family firm if he was living in London. The Morelli business was in Milan. Unless, of course, Alberto had given Sergio charge of a London branch, the way his father had sent him to Sydney all those years ago.

This train of thought momentarily distracted Bella from her embarrassing ogling, curiosity over what Sergio did for a living making her agree to go in search of Maria, and that bottle of wine. At least, she told herself it was curiosity. It couldn’t possibly be because she wanted to see him up closer, or wanted to find out, not so much about his career path, but about his personal life.

By the time Bella settled herself at the table on the terrace, however, she admitted to herself that that was exactly what she wanted to find out. But to what end, Bella? she asked herself as she surreptitiously watched Sergio surging through the water with effortless ease. You’ve come here to Lake Como for peace and quiet, not to have an affair with your long-lost stepbrother. Which is what might happen if you start flirting with him. Bella knew men found her desirable. Some claimed to find her irresistible.

Till they get you into bed, that is, came the stark reminder. Then, after a while, they don’t find you quite so desirable, or irresistible. Face it, Bella, you are a bore in bed. A failure. You might be beautiful to look at but you are incapable of being truly turned on. Your finding Sergio physically attractive means nothing. You’ve always been attracted to tall, dark and handsome. Unfortunately, that attraction never seems to translate into passion, the kind that bypasses shy and forces you to lose control.

Bella had always envied the way her lovers sometimes lost control. It would be wonderful, just once, to lose control. But she never had. Perhaps she never would. Or could. Maybe it was something she’d inherited from her mother, whose iron will and self-control bordered on obsessive. Maybe her shyness when naked was not shyness at all but an unwillingness to let down the in-built defences that came from being the daughter of an embittered and cynical woman. Bella had no doubt her mother loved her but it was a warped kind of love. Possessive and controlling and manipulative.

It was at this depressing point in her train of thought that Sergio stopped at the end of the pool less than three metres from the table Bella was sitting at.

‘Time to get out,’ he said, bringing her attention to his face; his sexily unshaven face.

Bella smothered a sigh of exasperation at her ongoing thoughts. Common sense demanded she drag her gaze away from Sergio, but she could not. So she watched, heart racing, as he placed his two palms on the flat surrounds and pushed upwards, his biceps bulging as he propelled himself out of the pool in a single leap. He landed like a big cat on the flagstones, water streaming down his chest as he straightened then slicked his hair back with large wet hands. Bella’s breath caught in her throat as she just stared at him, her hungry gaze raking over his gorgeous male body from top to toe.

Thank heavens Maria appeared with the ice bucket and glasses at that point, Bella glad to have an excuse to turn away and help her. Not that looking away from Sergio achieved all that much. It hadn’t taken more than a couple of seconds for her to spy what was on display within the confines of his tightly fitted shorts. Not only was Sergio hotter looking without clothes on than any man she’d ever been with, but he was bigger. Quite a bit bigger, if her eyes hadn’t deceived her.

Her mouth dried as she imagined how it would feel to be made love to by a man of such impressive proportions. Though making love was hardly what she had in mind. The sexual fantasy suddenly filling Bella’s head was not romantic, or gentle. In it, Sergio was taking her without foreplay, without tenderness, without lies about loving. She did not want to be told he loved her. She just wanted sex. Raw, naked, animal sex.

Not just attraction this time, Bella accepted shakily as she picked up the bottle of wine that sat in the ice bucket in the middle of the table. This was lust. The most famous of the seven deadly sins. Infamous for its power to seduce and to destroy; for banishing consciences and making fools of the most sensible people.

As much as Bella craved the scenario of losing control, she’d hoped she would be in love at the time, not in lust. When she’d arrived here, she certainly hadn’t envisaged falling in lust with Sergio. The possibility that she might make a fool of herself with him truly horrified her. By the time he wrapped a towel around his hips and joined her at the table, she’d managed to banish that wicked fantasy to the far reaches of her mind, determined not to give in to urges that were not very nice. Already they threatened to spoil her holiday, something she refused to allow. She needed this break, quite desperately. What she did not need was to fall victim to feelings that were strictly sexual and superficial. She did not love Sergio. She didn’t even know him any more. If truth be told, he was virtually a stranger. The boy she’d once known and liked had become a man. A man with his own life and his own plans. A man who undoubtedly already had a woman in his life. Only a fool would imagine otherwise.

After the break-up with Andrei last year, Bella had vowed to stop being a fool where men were concerned. Time to test that vow!

Gathering herself, she schooled her face into a mask of indifference to Sergio’s near nakedness and poured him a glass of wine.

‘You swim very well,’ she said coolly as she handed him the glass. ‘But then, you always did.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

AS SERGIO REACHED to take his glass, he looked deep into her lovely but very cool blue eyes. Yet they hadn’t been cool a few seconds ago. They’d been hot and hungry as they stared at him. He’d been sure of it.

Not a sign of anything now, however. She was all cool sophistication as she sat there, looking cripplingly desirable in a silky floral sundress. She was too thin, of course. Women who lived their lives in the spotlight were always too thin in Sergio’s opinion. Perversely, Bella’s slenderness only made her more desirable, giving her tall, willowy body a fragility that was both appealing and provocative. Her porcelain skin was free of make-up, her glorious blonde hair up in a style that showed off her long, elegant neck and pretty shell-like ears. She wasn’t wearing lipstick, but then her lips didn’t need lipstick, her mouth full and lush and pink in its natural state.

Sergio’s gut tightened as he imagined kissing that mouth. And that neck. And those ears. When he started imagining a whole lot more, he told himself to get a grip.

‘I seem to recall you were quite the little fish as well,’ he said, and took a welcome swallow of the cold wine. The swim had achieved only marginal success when it came to dampening the sexual heat Bella always evoked in him. He’d still been half erect when he exited the pool, and was now back in full flight, an uncomfortable state of affairs given the restrictions of wet Lycra.

But he was used to pain where Bella was concerned.

Sergio was contemplating how to handle the rest of the day when Maria appeared on the terrace with one of the house phones.

‘The Contessa,’ she said quietly to Sergio as she handed the receiver to him.

Sergio was momentarily annoyed at the interruption, till he saw Bella’s eyebrows lift. Nothing heightened a woman’s interest, he’d sometimes found, than the interest of another woman.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ he said to Bella as he lifted the phone to his ear. ‘Claudia,’ he said, putting a warm lilt into his voice. ‘So nice of you to call.’

‘You naughty man,’ the Countess chided. ‘You come to stay and you don’t tell me in advance. I would have organised a dinner party in honour of your arrival if I’d known.’

‘How kind of you. But I’m not in the mood for major socialising. How about a dinner for just the two of us instead? Tomorrow night, perhaps? Eight o’clock suit you?’

‘Sì. Eight o’clock would be lovely. I will have Angela cook you something special. And I’ll open the Chianti Giovanni laid down in the cellar before he died.’

Which was almost ten years ago, meaning the Chianti would be fantastic to drink by now. ‘I will look forward to it. Must go, Claudia. I’ve been cleaning out the pool and I am in desperate need of a shower.’

He hung up swiftly before she could ask why he was doing Carlo’s job. Impossible to explain that he’d wanted to be cleaning the pool when Bella arrived, the driver having texted him the approximate time of their arrival before he’d left Milan. His plan had been for Bella to see him without the cloak of a suit, certain that she would find his body attractive. He had a good body, he knew. Also, if history was anything to go by, Bella had a penchant for tall men with olive skin and dark hair. He was confident that his plan had worked, her eyes eating him up more than once.

But Bella was a sophisticated and very beautiful woman. A successful woman. She didn’t need to chase after a man, even one she found physically attractive. She would be used to men chasing after her, sending her flowers and flattering her with words of admiration and desire. Sergio had thought of using such a method to seduce her, but decided against it, certain she would be bored with such obvious tactics. He wanted to be more original than that. Given the intimacy of their living in the same house, he was sure that a situation suited to seduction would present itself sooner or later.

‘A countess, Sergio?’ Bella said with a sardonic note in her voice. ‘Does she have red hair, perhaps?’

Sergio frowned. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘A very attractive woman with red hair claimed your arm at your father’s funeral whilst we were talking.’

Sergio couldn’t honestly remember. But Bella did. Which was interesting.

‘Claudia does have red hair. Yes. She’s my next-door neighbour,’ he added. ‘Lives in a villa up on the hill to our left, which makes the Morelli villa look like a B & B. She’s a very good neighbour. And a very good friend.’

‘And is the Count a very good friend of yours as well?’

Sergio smiled. She was jealous. Clearly, she’d been put out by his agreeing to have dinner elsewhere so soon after she’d come to stay. Which was exactly why he’d suggested it, Sergio having decided off the cuff to follow one of the tactics Jeremy had suggested the other night.

Treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen.

‘The Count died several years ago,’ he informed a curious-faced Bella.

‘I see,’ Bella said, somewhat snippily.

She didn’t see, of course. But that was all right. It suited Sergio’s purpose that Bella believed Claudia was a merry widow and that tomorrow night he would be having the beautiful widow for afters. But Claudia had to be at least fifty-five, her plastic surgeon deserving a medal for the wonderful job he’d done on her over the years.

Maria showed up at the table at that point with two plates of bruschetta, Sergio grateful for the food. He’d already had lunch but it seemed like hours ago, his appetite sharpened by the physical work he’d been doing.

All his appetites were sharp at that moment.

‘So are you going to tell me why you were so desperate to get away?’ he asked Bella between bites.

Her eyes betrayed a momentary confusion as though she’d forgotten the reason for her flight. But then she laughed. A strange laugh. Almost bitter. Possibly ironic.

‘It’s difficult to put into words. I guess I’d just had enough of everything. Enough of work. And life. And men. Especially men,’ she added with heavy emphasis.

Terrific, Sergio thought. Suddenly, his goal of seducing Bella just became even more difficult.

‘I’m a man,’ he said before he could think better of it.

‘I know that, Sergio,’ she said stiffly, her eyes closing momentarily as her shoulders lifted then sank. ‘But you’re...different.’

‘Not as different as you might think, Bella,’ he muttered, hating the way his conscience was suddenly prodding him.

‘You wouldn’t tell a woman you loved her just to get her into bed, would you?’

‘No. I wouldn’t.’ As much as he might be tempted to...

‘See? You’re different from the amoral bastards I’ve been unfortunate enough to get mixed up with. You’re a gentleman.’

‘But no less a man. If I really wanted a woman, I might not always act the gentleman.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘Then you’re a fool,’ he snapped, frustration making him impatient.

When he saw the hurt in her eyes his remorse was immediate.

‘I apologise,’ he said. ‘That was uncalled for. But I’m not a saint, Bella, and you’re a very beautiful woman.’

Their eyes met across the table, Sergio noting the instant panic in hers. He wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad.

‘M...maybe my staying here wasn’t such a good idea, after all,’ she stammered. ‘I think it would be best if I booked into a hotel.’

Bad news, damn it all. Still, Sergio wasn’t about to let Bella run away. He’d always known seducing her would be a challenge. But it would be impossible if she weren’t under his roof.

‘Don’t be silly, Bella,’ he said in a silky smooth voice, the one he used to negotiate difficult deals. ‘I’m not about to make some crass pass the moment Maria goes home this evening. I might be between girlfriends right now but I am at an age where I can manage without sex for a mere month. So eat and drink up, then go have a much-needed nap.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

BUT THAT’S THE PROBLEM, Bella wailed to herself as she dropped her eyes from his to the food. Any attentions on your part would be welcome. And the pass can be as crass as you like. Tell me you want me. Right here and now. On this table or on the floor. I won’t say no. I want you to strip off my panties and just do it. Without care. Without any words of love, or even liking.

Dear Lord, what was happening to her here? This wasn’t her, this creature who wanted such appalling things; who suddenly craved them. Of course, it was all just in her head. It wasn’t real. If Sergio actually made a pass at her, she’d probably run a mile.

But it wasn’t entirely in her head, was it? The heat between her thighs was real. So were the pounding of her heart and the tightening of her nipples. Those things were very real. And very upsetting.

She had to get away. Maybe not right this second. But as soon as she could without offending Sergio. In a couple of days she would invent a phone call from Hollywood with an offer she couldn’t refuse. Meanwhile, she would keep out of his corrupting presence as much as possible. Suddenly, his going to dinner tomorrow night with that Countess woman didn’t bother her as much as it had, though she still hated the thought of his having sex with her. Which was ridiculous! Why shouldn’t he have sex with her if he wanted to? As he said, he was between girlfriends at the moment.

But it was no use. Just the thought of Sergio having sex with that woman sent a wave of black jealousy washing through her.

Her eyes lifted and collided with his, Bella fearful that he would see the guilty hunger in hers.

Flustered, she said the first thing she could think of. ‘What time will dinner be tonight?’

‘Whatever time you like,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t want to ask Maria to cook. She’s been working very hard the last two days, cleaning the villa from top to bottom. I thought we could stroll along to the village and have dinner there. Several new restaurants have sprung up since you were last here. But if you’re too tired to go out, I could throw something together.’

‘You can cook?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m a bachelor living in the twenty-first century. Of course I can cook. If you call steak and salad cooking,’ he added with a wickedly attractive grin.

Oh, God...

Bella didn’t trust herself to behave if they had an intimate dinner alone in the villa. Far better they dined out in public. Dining out would also guarantee that Sergio would have some decent clothes on. Who knew what he would wear here at home? The weather was hot. Maybe he’d just put on some shorts, leaving his chest bare. His gorgeous, sexy chest.

‘I don’t mind steak and salad,’ she said, dragging her lusty eyes away from that corrupting chest to top up her wine, ‘but I think I would like to go out. Provided I get some sleep first.’

‘Fine. I’m easy. You’re not eating,’ he pointed out.

‘Oh. No. I’m not very hungry. Just tired and thirsty.’ She swiftly lifted the wine glass to her lips and drained it dry, sighing as she put it back down on the table, hoping that the alcohol would dampen her desire and make her sleep. Scraping her chair back, she stood up, startled to find that her legs were decidedly wobbly. ‘I think I will go up to my room now.’

‘Take the plate with you,’ he suggested. ‘You need to eat, Bella.’

‘Are you saying I’m too thin?’ she snapped, having grown sensitive to comments about her eating habits in recent years. When she was stressed, she couldn’t eat. On the rare occasions she felt happy, she ate with relish, her weight going up and down like a yo-yo. She often lost more than she should, however. At the moment, she was slightly underweight. But not dangerously so.

‘You could afford to put on a few pounds,’ he said.

Although the comment was honest, it still upset Bella.

‘And you could afford to be a little more polite,’ she shot back. ‘I expect to be criticised by the media but not my friends.’

To give him credit, his expression was immediately remorseful. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m usually more tactful than that. I’m worried about you, that’s all. As I said earlier, you are a very beautiful woman, Bella. You would be beautiful no matter what weight you were. But it’s clear you’ve been working yourself too hard. You need to relax, and to eat, not just drink.’

‘Might I remind you, Sergio,’ she retorted, her dander right up now, ‘that you are not my big brother any more. My welfare is not your concern. Neither is my weight. So spare me the lectures on eating and drinking. If I wanted to be lectured I would have stayed in Sydney with my mother. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going upstairs to have some much-needed rest.’

* * *

Sergio winced as he watched her flounce off.

Well done, Sergio. That’s the way to seduce a woman. Tell her she’s too skinny!

Sergio laughed a dry laugh. At least she recognised that he wasn’t her big brother any more. She’d called him a friend. That was a start. But it suddenly felt a long way from friend to lover.

Maria came out onto the terrace and glared down at the uneaten food.

‘Leave it,’ Sergio said when she went to pick up the plate. ‘I’m hungry enough for two.’ He always ate like a horse when he was stressed.

Maria made a tsk-tsk noise with her mouth. ‘That girl...she is too thin.’

‘I know,’ Sergio said. ‘I told her so.’ And he took a big bite of bruschetta.

Maria stared at him as if he was mad. Which he was. Stark raving mad.

‘You are stupido,’ she said, waving her hands in the air. ‘How you think you get Bella into bed if you say things like that?’

Sergio almost choked on his food. Still, he should have known that he wouldn’t be able to deceive Maria. She was one smart woman. At least now he wouldn’t have to hide his intentions from her. Or the evidence, if he was ever successful. Which at that moment seemed unlikely.

‘How long have you known?’ he asked her.

‘That you are in love with Bella?’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I have always known. Ever since you were children. You become a different boy when she came into your life. She lit up your soul.’

Sergio laughed again. She certainly lit up something. But it wasn’t his soul. ‘I am not in love with Bella, Maria. I did love her when I was a boy. How could anyone not love her back then? But she is no longer the enchanting little girl she once was. She’s grown up into a tough cookie with an all-consuming career and a string of lovers a mile long. She’s also grown into the most desirable woman God ever put breath into. So yes, I would like to get her into bed. I won’t deny it. But that’s all I want.’

‘You men,’ Maria scoffed. ‘You never know what you want, or what you feel. My Carlo. He thought the same, but once I am having his child, he saw the truth. That it is love all along.’

‘Are you talking about me, caro?’ the man himself said as he walked out onto the terrace.

Carlo was a handsome man with curly black hair and a carefree disposition. He’d had a roving eye in his younger years but was now a devoted family man, proving that people could change.

‘Sì, Carlo,’ Maria said, smiling at him. ‘I was saying what a wonderful husband and papà you are.’

Carlo beamed. ‘I do my best. I must away, Sergio. School will be out and those bambinos of mine, they are little devils.’

‘Is the boat all ready to go?’ Sergio asked.

He had set Carlo the task of cleaning his father’s speedboat whilst he’d vacuumed the pool.

‘Sì. I check the engine and clean everything till it shine.’

‘Then go, by all means,’ Sergio said, thinking how much Carlo’s English had improved over the years. They never spoke Italian at the villa, Maria explaining that with the explosion of tourism at the lake they both needed to be able to speak perfect English. ‘And many thanks. You are a very good worker, Carlo.’

‘And you are a very good boss. Ciao.’

‘But still a stupid one,’ Maria said with rolling eyes once her husband was gone.

Sergio sighed. ‘I get the point, Maria. You don’t have to rub it in.’

She muttered something in Italian under her breath, then whirled and stalked off, leaving Sergio feeling disgusted with himself. Both Alex and Jeremy would have been disgusted too, if they’d witnessed the most classic faux pas of all faux pas when it came to seduction. Neither of them would have been so crass as to make a comment about a woman’s weight.

It was all Bella’s fault, of course. Whenever she entered his head, his brain got scrambled.

Think, Sergio. Think!

There were two courses of action he could take, he decided as he finished off the bruschetta and wine. He could adopt the patient approach. Just talk to her at first, like a friend. Ask her questions about her career. Show an interest in her life. Find out what she planned to do in the future. He’d often found that women liked men who were good listeners.

Alternatively, he could revert to the bad-boy approach, which would mean that the next time they were alone together, if the mood was right, he would make a pass. Not crass, of course. Something suave and sophisticated. Something original and clever. It would be a risk, but one worth taking. For Sergio suspected that he would quickly run out of patience with Bella sleeping in the bedroom next to his. He certainly wouldn’t get much sleeping done.

Laughing ruefully at this last thought, he stood up, dumped the empty glasses in the wine bucket with the bottle, gathered up the plates and carried everything into the huge kitchen.

Maria glanced up from where she was busy writing some sort of list.

‘What is so funny?’ she asked.

‘Life, Maria. Life,’ he said as he put the bottle in the recycling bin and the rest in the dishwasher. ‘Now go home. You’ve done enough for today. I don’t want to see you till lunchtime tomorrow. And before you start arguing, Bella and I are quite capable of getting ourselves breakfast.’

‘Have you booked the restaurant for dinner? It is Saturday night. Lots of people eating out.’

‘No. But I will. We won’t be eating till late. Bella is having a sleep first. Now go!’ he ordered, waving her off.

She went with some reluctance, Sergio relieved to see her go. He was tired of talking. Tired of thinking. He’d go have a shower and a sleep too. If he could sleep, that was. Normally, drinking wine like that in the daytime made him drowsy. But today was not a normal day.

Sighing and shaking his head at the same time, Sergio headed for the stairs.

CHAPTER NINE

BELLA TOSSED AND TURNED on the bed, jet lag plus a lack of medication making sleep impossible.

Yet she needed to sleep, quite desperately. Needed some peace from the thoughts plaguing her. She still found it hard to believe that she had fallen in lust with Sergio. Okay, so he was an impressive-looking man now, with a truly gorgeous body, a far cry from the lanky, skinny teenager she’d known all those years ago. But he was still Sergio, her one-time big brother, a truly kind man who’d generously let her come and stay here, despite her having turned her back on him and his father after the divorce.

Amazingly, he didn’t seem to hold any grudges against her; his manner over the phone had been quite warm and charming. She’d anticipated on the flight over that they would have a lovely time together, catching up on old times, totally relaxed in each other’s company, Bella looking forward to asking Sergio’s advice over what she should do with the rest of her life. She’d thought of him as sensible Sergio, not sexy Sergio.

She hadn’t for a moment imagined that she would be instantly besieged by a desire for him so strong that it made staying here impossible. Tears threatened, tears of exhaustion and frustration. For she wanted to stay. And she wanted Sergio. What on earth was she going to do?

Have a hot shower for starters, dummy, came that exasperated voice in her head that often piped up when she was frazzled or at her wits’ end. Or a cold one, if you can stand it. Just do something! Don’t just lie there, moaning and groaning like some drama queen.

Gritting her teeth, Bella headed for the bathroom where she stood under some soothingly warm water for ages, uncaring that her hair was getting soaked. When she finally emerged she felt a little better, though she looked a mess. Her long blonde hair was not at its best when wet. It kinked and curled and stuck out everywhere. Sighing, she gave it a brief dry with the hairdrier, then wrapped it up on top of her head before putting her new white silk PJs back on. She’d bought them at Mascot airport whilst waiting for her flight to be called. Bought a bikini as well.

By the time she cleaned her teeth and returned to the bedroom, the sun had sunk very low in the sky, its rays slanting onto the balcony and bathing the bedroom in a soft light. When the curtains ballooned out with a puff of breeze, Bella found herself making her way out onto the balcony, hoping that her still-jumpy nerve-endings would be soothed by the sight of the lake. Water was supposed to have a soothing effect, wasn’t it?

It was so beautiful, the lake, the water a dark blue-green colour, boats of all kind skimming over its near-smooth surface. Sailing boats. Speedboats. Ferries. Bella stood at the stone railing and watched the boats for a while, before lifting her gaze to the other side of the lake, where more magnificent villas dotted the shoreline, some of them half hidden by tall trees. Her eyes lifted to the mountains that stretched high into the clear blue sky, the highest peaks snow-capped despite it being summer. Despite the view her thoughts continued to return to Sergio.

‘I see you can’t sleep either,’ the man himself said as he materialised next to her.

Bella steeled herself as she turned her head to look at him, guessing already that Sergio wasn’t wearing any more clothes than he had earlier. She’d glimpsed bare arms as he’d reached out to grip the railing.

She’d been right. A lot of him was still bare. Bare arms. Bare chest. Bare legs and feet.

The black satin boxer shorts he was wearing weren’t as revealing as his swimming shorts. But it was obvious that he was naked underneath them. Bella’s PJs weren’t much better, made up of shorts and a sleeveless shirt top with a low V neckline.

‘I’ve been having trouble sleeping for some time,’ she told him truthfully enough. She could hardly say that he was the reason. ‘I usually take a sleeping tablet but I forgot to bring mine with me. You wouldn’t have any, by any chance?’ she added, sneaking another glance his way. Oh, Lord, what a masochist she was!

‘Sorry,’ Sergio replied. ‘Don’t believe in them. Not that I usually have a problem with insomnia. I work out quite a bit and swim a lot. On the odd occasion I can’t sleep—like now—I try Mother Nature’s sleeping tablet.’

Bella turned and stared at him, frustration making her voice sharp. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Sergio, but I don’t think a cup of chamomile tea is going to do the trick.’

He laughed, his dark eyes glittering with humour. And something else. Something smokingly hot.

‘I wasn’t suggesting chamomile tea. I was talking about sex. Don’t you find that after an orgasm or two, you drop off to sleep quite easily?’

Bella didn’t know what to say to that. She’d never had one orgasm, let alone two. She’d come close a few times—or thought she had—but had never experienced total satisfaction. Just total frustration.

‘Yes, well, I’m between boyfriends at the moment,’ was all she could think of to say.

He looked at her long and hard, and Bella’s heart beat so fast she was sure he must hear it.

‘You don’t need a boyfriend to have sex, Bella. Just a man. You’re welcome to use me, if you like. As I pointed out earlier, I’m a man,’ he added, a devilish gleam in his eyes.

She just stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. Who would have believed that Sergio could be so...so...?

Bella could not find the right word. Sexy wasn’t strong enough. Wicked was closer to the mark.

An image popped into her head, of how big he’d looked in those very revealing swimming trunks, and of how she’d tried to imagine what it would feel like, having a man of his size inside her. Her mouth dried at the thought, her heartbeat going truly haywire.

‘You can’t be serious!’ she blurted out at last.

‘I’m very serious.’

‘But I...you...we...’

‘Are not related in any way,’ he finished for her. ‘We never were. Look, I’ve always fancied you, Bella. Especially after you grew up and became all famous and gorgeous. If truth be told, most of the male population in the world fancies the beautiful Bella. So it won’t be any hardship to make love to you.’

Bella gulped, shock and temptation having rendered her speechless. Not in her wildest dreams would she have thought Sergio would offer himself to her in such a fashion. She wanted to say yes. She really did. But finding that one little word was so hard.

‘I don’t usually go to bed with a man just to get some sleep,’ she hedged.

He shrugged. ‘There’s always a first time for everything.’

‘I...I don’t know, Sergio,’ she said, trying to find some reason—any reason—to say no, panic a heartbeat away. ‘People say sex has a way of spoiling friendships.’

‘Come now, Bella, it’s not as though we live in each other’s pockets. When this month is over, you’ll wing your way back to New York and we probably won’t see each other again for another decade.’

Bella frowned, not liking that thought one bit.

‘What’s that expression?’ Sergio said with a wry smile, reaching out to take her by the shoulders and pull her towards him. ‘Friends with benefits? That is what we can be, Bella. Friends with benefits.’

Bella made no comment. She couldn’t. Because by then his mouth had covered hers.

CHAPTER TEN

SERGIO TRIED TO keep his head. Tried to take things slowly. But this was Bella he was finally kissing. Bella who was melting against him and moaning in that soft, sexy way women did when they were turned on. Any momentary worry he’d had that she might not respond to him was banished at the sound of that first little moan, his control banished at the same time. His hands shook as they lifted from her shoulders to clasp her cheeks, holding her face captive while he pried those luscious lips apart and sent his tongue deep into her mouth. She welcomed it avidly, her own tongue entwining with his in an erotic dance that had him fully erect in seconds.

His groan was half passion, half pain. With great reluctance he dragged his mouth away from hers, knowing that he needed a breather or he would never last the way he wanted to last. No way could he disappoint her. Not this first time. Not if he wanted Bella to want more than just a one-night stand.

‘Wow, Bella,’ he said lightly as he returned his hands to her shoulders. ‘You are some kisser.’ Of course, she’d had a lot of practice. Not a thought he relished. ‘Unless you want to have sex out here on the balcony,’ he went on drily, ‘I suggest we adjourn to the bedroom.’

She blinked up at him, face flushed, eyes somewhat glazed.

‘Bella?’ he prompted when she said nothing. ‘Your room or mine?’

She still didn’t speak, seeming disoriented. Maybe she hadn’t expected to like kissing him as much as she obviously had. Whatever, Sergio wasn’t about to let her go cold on the idea of having sex with him. So he bent and scooped her up into his arms and carried her swiftly into the master bedroom. She made no protest, though her eyes rounded when he laid her down on the black satin sheets that graced the king-sized bed.

She still didn’t say anything.

‘Look, if you’re one of those women who don’t like to talk during sex, then say so right now,’ he said, deliberately using conversation to dampen the urgency of his own desire.

‘I don’t like to talk,’ she said, her voice low and husky.

He shrugged. ‘Pity, it’s good to know what a woman likes or doesn’t like, especially the first time.’

‘I see,’ she said, her lovely eyes clinging to his in a way that made him want to kiss her again. But he didn’t dare.

‘So is there anything you especially like?’ he asked. ‘Besides kissing, that is. I can see you like that.’

She frowned as though she was at a loss to answer. ‘No...not...not really,’ she said at last.

‘Fine. What about things you don’t like?’

A small smile pulled at her lips. ‘I don’t like to talk.’

He laughed. ‘Right. No more talking.’

He didn’t mind. He’d had his breather, his body back under control. Sort of.

Propping himself up on his left elbow, he reached to undo the top button of her silky top, telling himself all the while not to look at her breasts. Just get her undressed.

If only she hadn’t gasped when he’d peeled the top open. If only she hadn’t closed her eyes and tipped her head back on the pillows, the action lifting her breasts towards him in the most inviting fashion. Impossible not to look after that. Impossible not to touch.

She wasn’t too thin at all. At least, her breasts weren’t. They were perfect, twin globes of pearly flesh with the sweetest, pinkest, pointiest nipples. They demanded to be licked and kissed, then sucked in deeply, all of which he did, uncaring of the danger to his control. She started whimpering, then thrashing her head from side to side on the pillow. Her hands found his head, her fingers winding their way through his hair, not to pull him away but to press him down closer and harder. She cried out when he abandoned her breasts to slide downwards, stripping off her bottom half as he went and tossing it aside. She voiced only the weakest protest when he pushed her legs apart. But there was no further protest once his mouth reached its target. She writhed, then bucked with pleasure, moaning and groaning as his tongue and fingers set up a twin attack on her most erogenous zones.

From that moment her orgasm was assured. As was his.

They came together. Yet not together, any dismay on Sergio’s part put aside once he realised that this was only the beginning. She was his now, he thought as he moved to sit on the side of the bed. Sexually, at least. All he had to do was keep satisfying her and she would come back for more. For that was the nature of the beast.

At last, she opened her eyes and stared into his, her expression full of wonder.

‘I had no idea it could be like that,’ she said, sounding stunned.

‘Like what?’ he said, his still-hungry gaze roving over her delicious nakedness.

She immediately closed her legs, looking more than a little confused. ‘I thought... I thought I had to be in love to...to...you know...’

Sergio was taken aback that a thirty-year-old woman of Bella’s experience could be so naïve.

‘Sometimes, sex without love is better,’ he told her, thinking he wouldn’t really know since he’d never been in love. ‘You can concentrate on the physical rather than the emotional. Emotions complicate things.’

‘You’re probably right,’ she murmured. ‘Have you ever been in love, Sergio?’

‘No,’ he returned abruptly, annoyed that Maria had put silly thoughts of love into his head earlier. He was not in love with Bella. Definitely not. ‘Now I have to go to the bathroom for a sec. Then we’ll get down and dirty and have some real sex.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘DEAR HEAVEN,’ Bella whispered to herself after Sergio closed the bathroom door behind him.

What had happened to the Bella who hated being naked in front of a man? Who hated oral sex? Who never ever came?

Gone, she thought with a dizzying wave of pleasure. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Her hands lifted to touch the still-burning tips of her breasts before drifting down over her suddenly tense stomach, a shiver running down her spine as she opened her legs once more. Not as wide as before, but wide enough for her hand to slide between her thighs.

‘Oh, yes,’ she groaned when her fingers brushed over her still-swollen and very sensitive clitoris. She closed her eyes, her hand moving between the slickened folds of flesh till she found the soaked entrance to her body. Never before had she been as wet as this. Or as excited. She moaned at the thought of how it would feel when Sergio filled her there.

Her hand being abruptly pulled away had her eyes flinging open on a startled gasp.

Sergio loomed over her from the side of the bed, his dark gaze glowering with disapproval.

‘The only person allowed to touch you there this afternoon is me.’

Bella almost died when he lifted her hand to his mouth and started sucking her fingers, one by one. He seemed to relish the taste of her.

It wasn’t till he climbed onto the bed with her again that Bella realised he was now as naked as she was. More naked, actually. She still had her PJ top on, though it was wide open to her waist.

Bella swallowed at the sight of his nakedness. She’d known he was big. She just hadn’t anticipated his being that big. Admittedly, he was erect. Stunningly so, his awesome length already housed within a condom. For which Bella was grateful, given her own brains had gone to mush. She was on the pill but that didn’t protect a woman from all the consequences of unsafe sex.

‘Now where were we?’ Sergio drawled, his eyes hot on her as he eased her legs further apart and slid his own hand down into her.

Bella sucked in sharply, her heart stopping as his fingertips did things to her insides that made her want to weep with pleasure.

Don’t stop, for pity’s sake, she groaned silently.

He stopped, which was perhaps just as well, since she’d forgotten to breathe. Her heartbeat lurched back into life as he rolled between her legs and entered her. Just an inch or two at first, but it brought a ragged gasp to her lips.

‘Wrap your legs up around my back,’ he suggested thickly. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

Hurt her? He wasn’t hurting her. He felt fantastic. Already she wanted him in further.

But she did as he asked, and immediately he slid in deeper.

Bella moaned. Oh, God...

Her eyes flung wide when he began to move, her lips falling apart so that she could suck in some much-needed air. But whilst her heart was galloping along at breakneck speed, his rhythm was slow and steady. Too slow for her at that moment. And way too steady. She wanted him to ravage her, not make love to her.

‘Faster,’ she urged him in a voice she barely recognised. ‘Faster.’

‘I thought you didn’t like to talk,’ he growled.

When she swore at him he laughed. ‘Naughty girl.’

She could not believe it when he withdrew entirely.

She might have sworn at him again but she was distracted by his suddenly flipping her over.

‘Let’s get you properly naked,’ he said, and stripped off her top, leaving her lying there with her back to him and her bottom totally exposed.

And did she care? Not in the slightest. In the past, she would have died a thousand deaths of shame and humiliation. Not so any longer. She loved the feel of Sergio’s eyes on her, and his hands on her. And they were.

‘So beautiful,’ he murmured as he caressed her shoulders then stroked up and down her spine, his finger moving on to tease her still-throbbing clitoris with a skill that had her moaning once more.

When he hoisted her up onto her hands and knees Bella was more than ready to have him take her that way. So she was surprised—and strangely touched—when Sergio asked her if that position was okay by her.

Her ‘yes’ came out of her mouth in strangled tones, her heart catching in her throat. It was the weirdest moment. She almost felt like crying. But then he was pushing inside her wildly aroused sex and she forgot everything but the feel of his flesh filling hers once more. This time his rhythm wasn’t at all slow, his body pounding into her with long, powerful surges. By the time his hands reached round to take rough possession of her breasts she was off in another world, a world where lust reigned supreme. She groaned, her hips wriggling in urgent frustration as she pushed her buttocks back against him, desperate for an end to her erotic torment.

Her climax shook her with the force of an earthquake, her cries echoing around the marble-floored room, her satisfaction increased by the sound of Sergio’s own roar of release, his shuddering as ragged as her own. Finally, Bella collapsed onto the bed, taking Sergio with her. And that was how they lay for simply ages, their chests heaving, their bodies still fused. Gradually, Bella’s heartbeat slowed and a languor such as she’d never known before washed through her body, turning all her limbs to liquid. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was that Sergio had been so right. Sex was so much better without the complication of emotion.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SERGIO HEAVED A huge sigh of relief once he realised Bella had fallen fast asleep. For several minutes he just lay there, wallowing in the feel of his sex buried deep inside hers; wallowing in the memory of everything he’d done to her so far. Not nearly enough, of course. He could not wait to have her take him in her mouth. To have her ride him. To make her want him and need him the same way he’d wanted and needed her all these years.

It was a challenging goal, given she was hardly some innocent little virgin who’d never had an orgasm before. How did you enslave a woman with sex when she’d probably already experienced every sexual pleasure and position that existed?

Jeremy had been so wrong when he’d said Bella might not be any good in bed. She’d been great, once she’d got over that silly idea of hers that she had to be in love to enjoy sex. Lord knew where she’d got that idea from, given the kind of mother she had. Darling Dolores hadn’t been in love with his father, but she’d still enjoyed sleeping with him. Or so his father had claimed after the divorce, explaining that was why he was so shocked by her announcement that the marriage was over. Sergio realised in hindsight, however, that maybe Dolores was just a good faker.

There’d been nothing fake about Bella’s orgasm just now, Sergio’s loins leaping anew as he relived the strength of her contractions. The fact that he wanted her again so soon underlined the extent of his desire for her. Though that was hardly a surprise. His desire for Bella had always been obsessive.

Sergio contemplated waking her and having her again. But decided that might not be a good move. Bella was obviously exhausted, not just from the sex. From her busy life and the long flight, plus the ongoing disappointment of men who obviously hadn’t loved her the way she’d loved them.

Sergio scowled at this thought. What had it been about those womanising creeps that she’d fallen in love with? Their looks? Their success? Their charm? Possibly all of those things, as well as their bedroom skills. They must have been good lovers. Maybe even great lovers.

Sergio’s teeth clenched down hard in his jaw, hating the jab of jealousy that accompanied this last thought. Okay, so she’d been with some major players in the past. So what? He wasn’t exactly a novice in bedroom matters. It was crazy to be jealous over Bella’s past lovers. Crazy and counterproductive. He should be exploiting her wealth of experience, not getting in a twist about it.

Get your act together, Sergio, and move on.

Very carefully, he slid his half-erect body out of hers and headed for the bathroom, telling himself that those other lovers of hers couldn’t have been all that great or she’d have married at least one of them. It seemed impossible that none of them had proposed. Sergio would have liked to ask her what had happened, but feared it was poor form to question a woman over past love affairs. On top of that, giving her the third degree on such matters might reveal more of his own past feelings than he would like.

So keep this affair strictly sexual, Sergio. And don’t, you idiot, fall in love with the woman!

* * *

The room was dark when Bella finally surfaced, Sergio lying on his back beside her in the bed.

Asleep, thank heavens, giving her time to gather her thoughts before having to make conversation with him. Bella still could not believe how great lovemaking was when you were actually turned on. She shivered with pleasure at the memory of how incredible Sergio had felt, deep inside her. As for that last mind-blowing orgasm...her head had almost exploded when she’d come.

Bella understood now the seductive power of sex, something that had eluded her all these years. She’d always enjoyed being the object of desire, but she’d never actually experienced real desire herself. Till today.

Today had been an eye-opener in more ways than one. It wasn’t just her own feelings that had surprised her, but Sergio himself, who’d proved to be nothing like the man she’d always imagined him to be. He was still a gentleman at heart—she could see that. But there was a bad-boy side to him that she found wickedly attractive. It came to her as she lay there, thinking, that she’d always been attracted to bad boys, especially tall, dark and handsome ones. She’d just never lusted after one before. Sergio was a first in that regard.

And what a first!

An erotically charged quiver trickled down Bella’s spine as she relived the moment he’d trailed his hand down that same spine, continuing on to where she was happy for him to touch, bringing her quickly back to her earlier level of mindless excitement. Oh, yes, he was a gentleman at heart. Another man might have taken advantage of her at that point; might have pushed her boundaries in a way she was not yet ready for. But not her Sergio.

But he’s not your Sergio, she reminded herself sternly. Not even remotely. He’s just a friend. A friend with benefits. A temporary friend with benefits. The only reason he’d suggested such a thing was because he was between girlfriends at the moment. Don’t start imagining you’re anything special to him.

Bella had no doubt that Sergio had had lots of girlfriends over the years with his dark good looks and impressive body. More than impressive in one department. She glanced over at his nude body, her eyes having adjusted to the darkness by then. She noted that, even at rest, his penis was a full six or seven inches. Erect, he had to be nine at least.

Her mouth dried at the thought of going down on him. But she would manage. Somehow. Because she wanted to. She wanted to very much indeed.

Weird, given she’d always hated doing that. She’d endured it during her earlier relationships. Men did seem to like it a lot. But by the time Andrei had come along, she’d felt confident enough in herself to refuse, saying she simply didn’t like doing that. Andrei had been furious with her, accusing her of not loving him. Which of course she hadn’t, she realised now. She’d just been infatuated with his larger-than-life persona, then flattered by his dogged pursuit of her.

How good it felt to finally see that she hadn’t loved Andrei at all. How liberating. As was her discovery that she could enjoy sex without having to be in love. Though it was a little shocking, in a way. Bella had always been a romantic. Of course, it did make it more acceptable that she liked Sergio. And that he liked her back. She wasn’t being wicked at all by indulging in a holiday fling with him.

Well, maybe a little wicked, she thought, giggling as an image came to mind of herself up on her hands and knees, wriggling her bottom in a decidedly wanton fashion.

‘That sounded seriously naughty,’ Sergio murmured by her side.

‘It did, didn’t it?’ she agreed, resolving not to be coy with him. They were both too adult for coy.

‘Dare I ask what you were thinking at the time?’ he queried as he rolled over to face her.

‘No.’

His dark eyes glittered as his hungry gaze swept over her body, and Bella resisted the momentary urge to cover her nakedness. A bit late to resort to shy. Besides, she liked showing off her body to Sergio; liked the way he looked at it. How amazing was that?

‘I could make you tell me,’ he threatened. ‘I could tickle you till you confess.’

Her eyebrows lifted in a saucy gesture. ‘And there I was, thinking you meant to do something seriously naughty to me.’

Now his eyebrows lifted. ‘You’re into seriously naughty, are you?’

Bella realised at that moment that her new boldness was still somewhat shaky. She didn’t want Sergio thinking she wanted him to do kinky things.

‘Not at all!’ she said, trying not to panic.

‘What, then?’

‘Nothing! I...I was just flirting with you. I didn’t have anything specific in mind.’

‘You mean you don’t want me to tie you to the bedposts and torture you in all sorts of erotic ways till you blurt out all your secret fetishes?’

Bella’s eyes blinked wide when the thought of his doing just that sent a wave of dizzying excitement all through her.

‘No?’ he said, perhaps interpreting her round-eyed gaze as shock. Which was partly true. She was shocked at how much she wanted him to do exactly that. Shocked too that he would suggest such a thing. Clearly, he was even more of a bad boy than she’d realised earlier. Either that, or maybe all men were bad boys when it came to sex. Bella realised she had to take control of the situation—and her own surprisingly lust-filled self—or Sergio might get carried away with what she would allow. She didn’t want him believing she was up for anything during her stay here with him.

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘For your information, dear Sergio, I don’t have any secret fetishes. Neither am I into seriously naughty. Now I need to go to the bathroom. And then I need some food.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said, his nonchalant tone bringing some welcome relief. ‘I’ll order us a couple of pizzas. You do like pizzas, don’t you?’ he added with a quirk of his mouth.

Her chin lifted as it did whenever she thought someone was making fun of her.

‘I do. If it’s a good pizza.’

‘Sweetheart, this is Italy. Of course it’ll be good pizza.’

Bella flinched at his calling her sweetheart like that. She hated the way men used generic terms for women. She especially hated being called sweetheart and babe. But to take him to task on it seemed petty and premature.

Pursing her lips tightly together, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and was about to stand up when some of her old shyness unexpectedly returned. The thought of walking naked across the room to the bathroom suddenly felt humiliating. She kept picturing him staring at her bare bottom and thinking all sorts of kinky things.

In the end, she squared her shoulders, straightened her spine, stood up and began to slowly cross the marble floor, hotly aware of the way her bottom and hips moved with each step.

His sexy whistle sent a fierce flush to her face. Flustered yet flattered at the same time, she threw what was hopefully a haughty glare over her shoulder at him.

‘I’m beginning to think you’re no gentleman, after all,’ she said.

He just laughed, leaving her no option but to continue on her way whilst valiantly ignoring the memory of the way his eyes were glued to her bottom. And they were, Bella having noted the direction of his gaze when she’d glanced back at him.

But it was no walk of shame in the end. By the time she closed the bathroom door behind her Bella was actually smiling. If felt good to be desired by Sergio. In fact it felt fantastic.

There was a lot to be said for a friends with benefits fling, Bella decided. The month ahead promised to be the best holiday she’d ever had, a wonderful combination of the most beautiful setting, wonderfully warm weather and the best sex she’d ever had.

The last bit made her laugh, since she hardly had a history of even good sex. If she was brutally honest, her lack of libido over the years had troubled Bella for some time. Had made her feel such a failure in that part of her life. Her lack of sexual confidence was why she’d never been a flirt, only the most persistent admirer getting to first base with her. So why had her libido come to life now? she wondered. And why with Sergio?

All she could think was maybe she was a late bloomer in the sexual sense. She had been late into puberty, never being boy mad as a teenager like other girls. Or maybe it had something to do with Sergio himself. Though what, she couldn’t fathom. Yes, he had a great body. And yes, he was also a great lover. But her other boyfriends had all been good-looking men too, as well as very experienced where the ladies were concerned, not to mention way more charming and complimentary in their manner to her. Bella still hadn’t forgotten how Sergio had called her too thin. Though he’d also called her beautiful when he’d been making love to her, hadn’t he?

‘Oh, whatever,’ she muttered irritably as she walked over and turned on the taps in the shower.

There really was no point trying to work out such a difficult conundrum. The wonderful reality was that, at last, she’d responded to a man like a normal woman. At last, she’d discovered orgasms. There would be no more boyfriends telling her she was boring in bed. No more believing that she needed to be madly in love to have a satisfying sex life either.

Sergio had shown her that that was a total fallacy, a romantic fantasy. After all, she wasn’t in love with him any more than he was in love with her. How liberating was that?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘THIS PIZZA IS sinfully yummy,’ Bella mumbled with her mouth half full.

‘Sì,’ Sergio replied, and refilled her glass with the bottle of champagne he’d opened in celebration of the way things were going between them.

Her singing in the shower had filled him with a joy that might have troubled him, if it had been any other woman singing in his shower. But this was Bella, the woman who had sexually tormented him for years. And now she was here, in his home and in his bed. Sergio was way too enamoured of her glorious beauty, too bewitched by her sex appeal, too thrilled with having succeeded in her seduction, to dig deeper into his emotions.

They were sitting at a table on the balcony, Bella back in her PJs, Sergio having dragged on a pair of jeans, not needing to play the exhibitionist any longer. She’d already seen what he had to offer. Had experienced it up close and personal. She’d liked it too. Liked it a lot, if he were any judge.

She swallowed, then smiled over at him. ‘Do you know that’s the first Italian word you’ve used since I arrived? You’ve totally lost your accent, do you know that? Not that it was ever strong. Even when you first came to live with us in Sydney, you didn’t talk like your father did.’

‘That’s because I was sent to an English boarding school when I was eight.’

‘I vaguely recall you telling me that. Did you like it there?’

‘Hated it. I was very happy when our parents married and my father sent for me to come live with him and go to school in Sydney.’ Happy till he’d realised that Dolores didn’t really love his father. Or him. Though she’d pretended to. Sergio had always been good at spotting a fake. If it hadn’t been for Bella’s vivacious company, he would have been miserable. His schooling in Sydney had been barely tolerable, with his never being a popular boy.

‘You sounded like a real Aussie for a while,’ she said, smiling at the memory. ‘Till your dad sent you off to university in Rome and you came back sounding all Italian.’

‘Did I? I didn’t notice.’

‘And now you sound totally English.’

Sergio shrugged. ‘Well, I have lived in England for the last eleven years.’

Bella put down the remains of her slice of pizza. ‘Doing what, Sergio?’

Before he could think better of it, Sergio started telling her all about his life since their parents’ divorce, beginning right back at his first year in Oxford where at last he’d found true male friendship with Alex and Jeremy. He told her all about them, even telling her about their formation of the Bachelors’ Club. Admittedly, at the last second, he did have the foresight to let Bella think that their vow to remain bachelors and become billionaires didn’t have any age deadline. He wasn’t about to give her any inkling that, shortly, he would be looking for a wife.

He then went on to explain how he and his two best friends first got into the wine-bar business, relating that one day, shortly after they’d formed the Bachelors’ Club, he and Alex had spotted a dilapidated old bar for sale not far from the Oxford campus. They’d told Jeremy about it that evening, insisting it could be turned into a good business with the right décor and the right wine to appeal to the mainly student clientele. They’d raved about its location, being situated near the university, and they’d known Jeremy had come into a substantial inheritance from his grandmother’s estate, and it wasn’t long before they made a deal with him that they would do all the physical work if he put up the money.

‘Alex and I did all the refurbishing ourselves,’ Sergio told Bella. ‘We sanded and varnished the wooden floors and painted all the walls and ceiling black.’ He laughed at this memory. ‘We’d got a great special from a local paint shop on black paint. Then we hung huge posters of grapes and vineyards on the walls and covered the bar stools in a dark purple vinyl. We got a special on that too. Oh, and we got rid of the mirrors behind the bar. We thought they were too in your face. After that, we hunted the charity shops and flea markets for lounge furniture and coffee tables at reasonable prices and in reasonable condition. We figured our patrons would like somewhere they could relax, or study on their laptops whilst drinking our very affordable wine. The lighting we kept low, mostly with lamps and a few ceiling lights over the bar area. Then we hired the prettiest girls as staff, but dressed them in simple black skirts and white blouses. Nothing too sexy.’ He grinned at Bella. ‘As I said, they were very pretty girls.’

At this point in his story Sergio realised that Bella was staring at him. No, frowning at him.

‘What?’ he said.

‘But I’ve been to a wine bar that looks just like that. And it wasn’t in Oxford. It was in New York, in a street just off Broadway. It’s not far from where I live. It’s called Wild Over Wine, but everyone calls it the—’

‘WOW bar,’ Sergio finished for her. ‘Yes. There’s a couple of them in New York now.’

Bella’s face could not have been more astonished. ‘You own them?’

‘No. The Wild Over Wine bars are now a highly successful franchise. After the success of our first bar, we bought another, then another. Always near a university at first, but in the end anywhere which had a good location. Eventually, things got too much for us to handle, despite Jeremy having finally come on board as our chief financial officer. Anyway, I got this bright idea to start up a franchise. And it took off. Soon there were WOW bars all over Great Britain and even some in Australia and New Zealand, thanks to Alex. I did tell you Alex was Australian, didn’t I?’

Bella nodded.

‘Brilliant salesman. Brilliant all round, actually. Anyway, recently the franchise started creeping into America, with considerable success, I might add.’

‘I can imagine. I loved the one I went into. It had a highly individual ambience with its black walls and comfy furniture. But I wouldn’t have said the wine was all that cheap.’

‘Yes, well, we did change our ideas on that in the end. You can still buy cheap wine at WOW bars if that’s all you can afford, but we were forced to also cater for well-heeled clients whose palates required something better. Oh, and we changed the background music to classical. No royalty paying on most classical music,’ he added laughingly.

‘Heavens!’ Bella exclaimed. ‘I would never have guessed you would become a successful businessman. I always imagined you as some kind of academic.’

Sergio tried not to be offended. He had been a bit of a nerd as a teenager, always with his head in a book.

‘Well, I was never unsure of your career path,’ he pointed out. ‘From the time you were just a kid you were destined for fame and fortune in the music world. All your many and various successes have never surprised me.’

She actually looked a little embarrassed by his compliments.

‘That’s sweet of you to say so, Sergio, but, to be honest, fame and fortune isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. When I’m doing a musical on stage, I work terribly long hours. It can be exhausting, and, quite frankly, rather lonely. I don’t always have time for a social life, or proper relationships.’ She sighed a sigh that carried a wealth of irony, her blue eyes darkening as she picked up her champagne and took a deep swallow. ‘I know you probably think I’ve had heaps of affairs. But that’s far from the truth. In the last decade I’ve only had three serious relationships, all with men best forgotten.’

Sergio didn’t know what to say, her revelation bringing a mixture of surprise and scepticism. Which were the three? The French actor had to be one. And definitely that Russian fellow. Which left a toss-up between the Brazilian polo player and the American rock star. If she was to be believed, that was. Yet why would she lie to him? What motive could she possibly have?

‘I did read about your dating Chuck Richards at one stage,’ he said at last, trying to sound offhand and not accusatory.

‘Good God, no. I never dated that creep. Unfortunately, my publicist at the time thought it was good for my career for my name to be connected in the media with high-profile celebrities. At the time Chuck was all the rage. I was talked into accompanying him to the Aria awards that year, oblivious of the fact that he was a cocaine addict. I had to fight him off in the limo all the way back to my hotel. The guy was an octopus. I told him what I thought of him when I could finally get out, but of course it was reported in the papers as a lovers’ spat. Something Chuck didn’t deny. He made it sound like we’d been secretly seeing each other for weeks. I fired that publicist, but the next one I hired wasn’t much better.’

‘Why have one, then?’ Sergio asked.

Bella shrugged. ‘It’s the way the world works in America. You aren’t anyone in show business if you don’t have a manager and a publicist and a stylist. I even have a Hollywood agent.’

‘You’re going into movies next?’ Was she mad? She was already suffering from burnout.

‘Maybe. If the right movie comes along.’

‘It’s a mistake to have too many fingers in too many pies, Bella,’ Sergio advised, feeling genuinely worried for her. ‘I found that out myself this last year. With my father gone, I felt I should come back to Milan to try to rescue the family business, which was close to bankruptcy. Not out of some silly male pride, but because lots of families rely on that business for their living. Times are just as tough economically in Italy as they are all over the world. Anyway, I knew I couldn’t do that and manage the franchise as well. One of them had to go. I couldn’t do both.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘I talked it over with Alex and Jeremy and, with their approval, I sold the franchise, along with the wine bars we actually owned.’

‘I hope you got a good price.’

He grinned. ‘Let’s just say the main goal of the Bachelors’ Club was instantly achieved.’

‘You all became billionaires?’

‘We did indeed.’ No point in hiding the fact. After all, he didn’t need to use money as a lever to seduce her. She was already well and truly seduced.

‘But that’s marvellous! Oh, you are a clever boy. Now all you have to do is save the family business.’

‘Yes,’ he said, doing his best not to look smug. ‘Unfortunately, that’s going to be a tall order. But I’ll give it my best shot.’

‘I’m sure you will. So you’re going to be living here in future?’

‘Only at weekends. The family owns a town house in Milan where I’ll stay during the week.’

‘I see.’ She took the last bite of her pizza, her expression thoughtful. ‘You say family, Sergio, but there’s only you now. Hardly a family. Don’t you want to get married and have children one day? Surely you don’t intend to stay a bachelor for ever!’

Sergio could see that he’d backed himself into a corner with his earlier lie. But he really didn’t want her to know about his plan to look for a wife soon. It would make their affair seem...callous. Which, of course, it was.

Any guilt he felt was quickly dismissed, however. Why should he feel guilty? She was having a good time, wasn’t she? And he was getting what he’d always wanted.

‘I’m rather obsessive when I am faced with a challenge,’ he confessed. ‘I won’t have time for a wife and children till the family business is making a profit, which could take years. Besides, I’m only thirty-four. I have plenty of time yet to get married.’

Bella pulled a face. ‘Wish I could say the same. Women don’t have all the time in the world if they want children. I turned thirty last month. My biological clock is ticking.’

Sergio suppressed the crazy urge to suggest he would give her a child, if she desperately wanted one. ‘Come now, Bella,’ he said, ‘from the sounds of things you hardly have time to have sex, let alone children.’

‘True,’ she said, then laughed, her eyes sparkling as she looked over the table at him. ‘Till today, that is. I still can’t believe how great it was between us. I mean...it was amazing!’

Sergio could not believe how swiftly his mind switched from having a simple chat with Bella to wanting to have sex with her again, his desire as strong as ever. He’d been right in his original assessment that it would take at least a month of having her before he could move on with his life. She was like a disease, one that he had no antibiotics for. Only time would make him immune to this power she had over him.

Thankfully, she didn’t know she possessed such power; didn’t know how much he wanted her.

He was just a friend with benefits.

‘I agree,’ he said. ‘So now that you’ve had some decent food, do you fancy trying another of Mother Nature’s sleeping pills?’

Her eyes rounded a little but he could see she was as eager as he was. ‘You’re not too tired?’ she asked.

He had to smile. ‘Not yet,’ he said, then swallowed the last of his wine. She had no idea, did she? Which was exactly what he wanted. ‘Shall we try your room this time?’ he suggested casually. ‘That way you won’t have to answer any awkward questions when Maria finds your bed unused tomorrow.’

‘Oh, God,’ she said, perplexing him with a sudden blush. ‘I’d forgotten about what Maria might think.’

Sergio shook his head at her. Women, he’d found over the years, were often complex, contradictory creatures. They often said one thing and meant another. He didn’t want to even try to understand Bella at this moment. He just wanted to have sex with her. Over and over and over.

‘Let me worry about Maria,’ he said as he stood up and held out his hand towards her. ‘All you have to do tonight is enjoy the benefits of our friendship.’

He loved the way her eyes dilated as she put her hand in his; loved the evidence of her own desire. This time, he thought rather ruthlessly as he drew her to her feet, he would insist she be on top, but only after she’d pleasured him with that luscious mouth of hers. Tonight, he wanted to watch her face as she came; wanted to feel her coming apart whilst he was buried deep inside her; wanted to witness her totally losing control.

Only then would he let himself go. Only then.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BELLA SOMEHOW GOT her legs to carry her into the cream and gold bedroom where Sergio finally dropped her hand from his. Not that this afforded her much relief, since he immediately started to undo the buttons on her top. Her body swayed slightly as her mind reeled. She wanted him even more desperately this time. Wanted him so much that she felt almost ill. Her heart was racing and her stomach churning. She was tempted to reach up and rip the top off herself, so impatient was she to be naked before him. When he finally peeled the top back off her shoulders, her belly tightened alarmingly, making her fiercely aware of her full bladder. Too much of that champagne, she realised with some dismay.

‘I...I need to go to the bathroom,’ she said shakily.

His dark eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not going cold on me, are you?’ he asked.

‘God, no,’ she choked out. She was so hot she was on the verge of combustion!

‘Come back naked, then. I like my women naked.’

Bella sucked in sharply at the sudden harshness in his voice, and in his statement.

He seemed to sense her hurt for he immediately reached out to run a softly seductive finger down her cheek and around her mouth. ‘But only when they’re as lovely as you, beautiful Bella,’ he murmured.

Her chin still lifted, her pride stung by being lumped together with all his other women. And there would have been plenty. She could see that. Perversely, she didn’t like that thought. ‘I would imagine you don’t go to bed with any other kind,’ she snapped, stupidly letting her jealousy show.

He smiled a knowing smile, his provocative finger dropping away. ‘You could be right. But it’s a common failing in bachelors. And beautiful women. I can’t see you going to bed with an ugly man.’

She could not find an answer to that. Despite their flaws, her lovers had all been tall, dark and handsome. Like Sergio. But there’d only been three of them whereas she suspected he’d had girlfriends galore. Who would have guessed that the reserved boy she’d come to know and like enormously would one day become a playboy? And a billionaire as well!

‘Let’s not have a lovers’ tiff,’ he went on, still smiling. ‘Now go do what you have to do. I need to get some condoms from my room, anyway. We’ll meet back on this bed sans clothes in a couple of minutes, okay?’

Bella tried to hold on to her resentment at his high-handed attitude but it was futile. Already she was a slave to the exquisite pleasure that going to bed with Sergio promised. As much as she didn’t like the idea of his being a playboy, his wealth of experience did have some compensations. He certainly knew what he was doing in bed. Which was more than could be said for her. But she was learning.

It did cross Bella’s mind that her past lovers had all been playboys as well, with lots of bedroom experience. But she’d never had an orgasm with them. Never wanted them the way she wanted Sergio. It was a puzzle all right, she thought as she stripped off her clothes and stared at herself in the large vanity mirror, taking in her pink cheeks and erect nipples. But not a puzzle she cared to think about for long. All she wanted was to get back out there and be waiting for Sergio, naked, the way he liked his women.

He was there before her, stretched out on top of the cream cotton sheets, as naked as she was. More naked this time, she noted, no condom covering the awesome length of his erection.

When she stared, then hesitated to join him on the bed, Sergio rolled over onto his side and pointed to the pile of condoms sitting on the bedside table right next to her. ‘I will use one when it’s strictly necessary,’ he told her. ‘But till then, I thought it might be more pleasurable without protection.’

Bella found his casual manner exasperating yet perversely exciting. Could it be that his taking all the emotion out of the situation made her relax and actually enjoy the sex? It seemed a possible solution to the puzzle. Certainly, when she was with Sergio, she wasn’t wondering if he really loved her or not. Because she knew he didn’t!

Shaking her head at him, she climbed onto the bed, determined to act as casually as he was. But it was just an act. Suddenly, her earlier eagerness to take him in her mouth faded in the face of actually doing it. Her mouth dried at the thought.

Time for some of that new boldness, Bella. Time to take the reins, perhaps. Something you’re not used to doing, but you’re not an idiot, or ignorant. You know what men like.

‘Right,’ she said briskly. ‘Just lie back, Sergio, and I’ll see if I can help you out with your sleeping problem.’

Oddly enough, her deciding to take control of the situation did wonders for her own sudden lack of confidence. As she sat up and bent her head towards Sergio’s impatient flesh, Bella experienced the same rush of adrenalin that always swept through her once she actually stepped out onto a stage and began to sing. Performing for an audience always thrilled her. She was never nervous at all, not once the show actually started. Of course, it did help that she always practised her role and her songs till she was note perfect.

The role she was about to play was not one she’d overly practised, or even remotely perfected.

She should have experienced a crisis of confidence but she didn’t.

I can do this, she told herself as her lips hovered above him. I am a quick study. And observant. I will soon know what pleases him most.

Bella sucked in a deep breath, her lips falling apart in a last moment of panic.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SERGIO SHUDDERED WHEN her lips brushed over the straining tip of his erection.

Dear God, what an idiot am I to think I could stand this for more than a few seconds.

His teeth clenched down hard in his jaw when she did it again, his gut tightening as he braced himself for more torment. And she gave him more, doing everything that he’d ever dreamt of her doing. Licking him. Kissing him. Sucking him. Then taking him into her mouth, slowly, inch by inch, till he couldn’t bear it any more.

‘No,’ he grunted out when he was right on the verge of coming.

Her head immediately lifted, her eyes glazed, her lips looking swollen yet soft and luscious and deliciously wet.

‘No?’ she queried, sounding totally confused. And of course she would be. The men she’d been with would have let her go all the way; would have demanded it. But that was not what he wanted. Not this time. He wanted to come inside her. Wanted her to make love to him with her whole body, not just her mouth.

‘No,’ he repeated, his voice rough and raw. ‘That’s enough of that. I want the real thing, after all.’

She didn’t say a word, just stared down at him for a long moment. But then she gave herself a little shake of her shoulders and reached for a condom.

‘I think you’d better put this on,’ she said, her hand trembling in a way that almost got to him.

So she was turned on to the max. That was good, wasn’t it? It didn’t mean anything special.

He tore the packet open with his teeth and sheathed himself without a fumble.

‘What’s so funny?’ he said when he noticed her small smile.

‘Just thinking how practice makes perfect.’

He almost retorted that he’d been thinking exactly the same thing about her. But he had enough common sense left to know how easily women could be put off by the wrong comment.

So he just smiled and rolled over on top of her, his erection pressed between them.

‘I want to kiss that delicious mouth of yours whilst it still tastes of me.’

His mouth hovered over hers. ‘You are seriously sexy. Now kiss me, Bella.’

A wave of dark triumph rushed through him when she obeyed him. Though she did close her eyes, as if by doing that she was lessening his power over her. But it only strengthened his resolve to seduce her further, to make her do things that perhaps she hadn’t done before, make her want him to dominate her totally.

He sent his tongue in deep before setting up a rhythm that echoed what he ached to do to her. In and out, in and out, till she was gasping for breath. Only then did he stop, withdrawing totally, then rolling over onto his back, taking her with him.

‘Sit up, Bella,’ he commanded, and she did so, staring dazedly down at him as she sat up and straddled him.

‘Now take down your hair.’

God, but he adored the way her hands shook as they lifted to do his bidding. Seeing her so turned on didn’t make up for all the years he’d suffered because of his unrequited passion for her, but it was something.

He watched in awe as her glorious hair tumbled in erotic disarray around her shoulders. It was her crowning glory, her hair; soft and silky with a slight wave when dry and lots of curls when wet. He glanced down at where only the narrowest strip of fair curls guarded her sex. Some chose to totally denude their bodies but he’d always preferred a little mystery.

Bella still remained a mystery to him in some ways. But not in the bedroom. She obviously liked being in control sometimes. But mostly she preferred playing the submissive role. That was fine by him. He liked being the boss in the bedroom.

‘You can take over now,’ he said, appealing to both sides of her nature.

She looked startled for a split second, but then smiled, a rather enigmatic smile that he could not read. Without saying a word, she rose up onto her knees, her eyes dropping to his freed erection. A groan hovered on his lips when she grasped it with both hands, directing it carefully but inexorably to the entrance to her body. Both their eyes remained glued to that spot, Sergio’s heartbeat ceasing as his flesh began to slowly disappear within hers.

Dear God...it felt incredible. She was incredible. And so hot.

He didn’t start breathing again till he was fully inside her. He might have stayed relatively sane if she hadn’t started to move, rising up high then sinking back down upon him with her eyes shut, her head thrown back in an attitude of blissful rapture. Her own breathing grew more rapid, a harsh panting escaping from her parted lips. She was off in another world, a world where it didn’t seem to matter what male body was underneath her. And did he care? Hell, no. He was too far gone to care about anything but being released from the agony that was gripping his sex.

Her first contraction sent him over the edge, his hips jerking up from the bed as he ejaculated into her with the violence of an erupting volcano. Reaching blindly for her shoulders, he dragged her down on top of him, holding her tightly whilst their bodies throbbed and shuddered together, wallowing in the fact that she was as crazy in lust as he was.

If only she hadn’t nestled into his neck with her face. If only she hadn’t pressed her mouth against his skin, murmuring his name at the same time.

His heart immediately squeezed tight, then flowered open, emotion flooding in.

His groan was the groan of defeat. Or was it resignation?

He could keep telling himself it was just lust dictating his actions with Bella; and this was true to a degree. But Sergio could no longer pretend that his emotions hadn’t become involved as well. Was it love yet? He hoped not. He’d never actually fallen in love before so he had nothing to guide him. But he could not deny that she was getting under his skin in more ways than just sexual. Which was most unfortunate. Bella didn’t want him to fall in love with her, and he sure as hell didn’t want to fall in love with her. Once their holiday fling was over, she would return to her life on the other side of the world, with this interlude just a pleasant memory. Their friendship—even with benefits—would not survive. She’d get sucked back into her career and that would be that. She wouldn’t give him a second thought, the way she hadn’t when their parents had divorced all those years ago. It had been bad enough lusting after her from afar. He didn’t want to love her from afar as well.

Sergio decided then and there to make sure that didn’t happen.

So get your butt out of this bed, Sergio, he told himself firmly. And cut back on the sex from now on. She’s too damned good at it, that’s the trouble. All these fabulous climaxes are scrambling your brains, and messing with your emotions. The plan to get her out of your system was seriously flawed from the start. Logic should have told you that once you had Bella in your bed, you’d be in danger of becoming even more obsessed with her.

It took a supreme effort of will for Sergio to extricate himself from under her body, especially when she moaned and tried to cling to him. Thankfully, her limbs were weak, though her eyelids fluttered open when he pulled the sheet up over her.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she begged softly.

God, but she was the very devil; a siren calling him to sure disaster.

He had to get out of here. And now!

‘Go to sleep, Bella,’ he commanded. ‘You’ve had enough for tonight. And quite frankly, so have I.’

So saying, he whirled round and strode from the bedroom before she could glimpse that he hadn’t had enough of her. Not by a long shot!

His self-lecturing didn’t stop after he returned to the master bedroom, continuing all through the long cold shower he forced himself to endure.

‘No sex tomorrow,’ Sergio muttered as the icy shards of water lashed his burgeoning erection into retreat. ‘Thankfully, Maria will be here for a few hours during the day. That should stop me from going skinny dipping with Bella in the pool, then sweeping her off to the master bedroom for a lazy afternoon of non-stop lovemaking.’

Unfortunately, both ideas projected arousing images that refused to be banished. Sergio imagined their indulging in lots of oral foreplay in the pool and its surrounds. Maybe he’d even let her go all the way with that delicious mouth of hers. God, but she was good at that. Once he came that way, he’d be able to take his time with her in bed without his own frustration getting the better of him. He could play with her for ages. Maybe even bind her to the bedposts. Would she let him do that? he wondered. Possibly not yet. But soon, she would. He was sure of it. She—

Sergio abruptly pulled himself up short. What in hell did he think he was doing, making plans for seducing Bella further? He was supposed to be working out how to reduce the amount of sex between them, not increase it.

He shook his head at himself, vowing to do everything in his power to take control of the situation. Some sex with Bella was fine. But only last thing at night, and only under the pretext of helping them both with their insomnia. Because let’s face it, Sergio, you’re not going to be able to sleep till you’ve had her again. But sex during the day is simply not on. That will only lead to your becoming addicted to her. Or worse!

By the time Sergio emerged from the shower, he had his body and his mind under control. He also had a plan to survive the next month, because that was what it had come down to. Surviving. Of course, having a plan and putting it into action were sometimes two different things entirely. It also wouldn’t help that he would have Maria playing matchmaker the whole time Bella was here. Thank God he’d accepted that invitation to go to dinner at Claudia’s tomorrow night. That would take care of a few hours in the evening when temptation would be at its highest. And thank God come Monday he could legitimately spend every weekday at the factory in Milan. If truth be told, it was high time he got to work with sorting out the family business, anyway. Maybe, if he got deeply involved with that, being with Bella would lessen in importance.

And maybe the sun won’t come up tomorrow, Sergio, he thought with a rueful laugh.

He sighed a deep sigh and ordered himself to go to bed and go to sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as good at obeying his orders as Bella. Sergio tossed and turned for ages, not dropping off till the sky was turning that peculiar shade of mauve that preceded the dawn. When he eventually regained consciousness, the balcony outside the master bedroom was bathed in sunshine.

The sun had come up, was his first thought.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE KITCHEN IN the villa was large and welcoming, with a flagstone floor, pine cupboards, marble benchtops and a central wooden table that could seat up to eight people. When Bella entered it shortly after noon Sergio was seated at the far end of the table, dressed in colourful board shorts and a white T-shirt. His eyes were down, his large hands cupped around a steaming mug of what she presumed was coffee. He still hadn’t shaved and he looked even sexier to Bella than he had yesterday. Maria was standing at the kitchen sink, humming away and staring through the window at the lake beyond.

Sergio’s head lifted at her arrival, his dark gaze sweeping over her from top to toe before returning to her face, a small smile curving that wicked mouth of his.

It was a struggle not to look embarrassed in any way. But she managed, Bella having determined before coming downstairs not to act like some simpering virgin whom Sergio had seduced against her will. When she’d first woken this morning, the memories of the day before had momentarily overwhelmed her. In a way, it all seemed surreal. Her unexpected lust for Sergio. His astonishing proposal that they have a friends with benefits fling. And then her even more astonishing boldness in bed.

Was that really her, going down on him so avidly, then sitting on top of him and riding him so wildly and wantonly?

Part of her had wanted to shrink from that person. Her mother had brought her up to believe that nice girls definitely didn’t do things like that.

Thinking about her mother’s hypocritical advice over the years had quickly banished any sense of shame over the night before, Bella accepting with a new sexual maturity that she’d enjoyed every incredibly exciting second. She’d especially enjoyed experiencing her first orgasms. Lord, but she’d never dreamt of such pleasure. Or such blissful satisfaction.

Bella wondered momentarily as she smiled at Sergio how he would react if she told him she’d never had an orgasm before last night?

Not that she would. He clearly believed she was an experienced woman of the world. To reveal that the opposite was the case might send him running a mile, something she certainly didn’t want. What Bella wanted more than anything was more of what she’d had last night. She actually found amusement in the realisation that her mother would die at the R-rated desires running through her darling daughter’s head.

‘Good morning,’ she said brightly as she pulled out the chair at the opposite end of the table.

Maria immediately spun around from the sink.

‘At last! Someone is up who will eat breakfast!’ she exclaimed. ‘Sergio, he just want coffee. But not decent Italian coffee. He prefer that weak rubbish they drink in London. So what you want, Bella? A nice omelette, perhaps? But first a cup of espresso.’

Bella looked sheepish as she sat down. ‘Would you be offended if I had what Sergio’s having?’

Sergio laughed. ‘See, Maria? I am not the only one with a weak stomach this morning.’

‘Pah! You two. I know why you no want breakfast. Too much pizza and champagne last night.’

‘Too much something,’ Sergio muttered under his breath, then smiled at Bella, his eyes glittering with a knowing amusement.

Bella kept her cool on the outside, but her insides didn’t fare quite so well. Truly, the man was the devil in disguise. Who would have believed that the once-conservative Sergio would turn into such a Casanova?

Not that she really minded.

‘So how did you sleep?’ he asked her.

‘Very well,’ she replied without batting an eyelid. ‘And you?’

‘Like a log.’

‘Champagne always makes me drowsy,’ she said, determined to play the game as well as he did.

‘Then we’ll open another bottle tonight.’

‘I thought you were going to your neighbour’s place for dinner tonight,’ she reminded him.

‘So I am. But I shouldn’t get back too late.’

‘I might have gone to bed by then.’

He shrugged. ‘There’s always another night.’

It irked Bella that he wasn’t as keen to be with her again as she was to be with him. But then why would he be? Last night hadn’t been anything special to him. Not as it had been for her.

Maria scowled as she placed a mug of coffee down in front of Bella. ‘I do not come here just to make rubbish coffee.’ She placed her hands on her wide hips and glowered at them.

‘I know!’ she exclaimed, suddenly beaming. ‘I will pack you both a picnic basket. Sergio, you will take Bella out in the rowing boat. Go to that secret cove you found when fishing a while ago. That way, Bella does not have to wear any silly wig. She can be herself.’

Bella’s stomach flipped over at the thought of going on a romantic picnic lunch with Sergio in some secret cove. He didn’t seem quite as keen on the idea, however, if his expression was anything to go by.

‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘It’s always very busy on the lake on a Sunday. Someone in a passing boat might recognise Bella.’

‘Not if I wear dark glasses and a large hat,’ she said straight away, locking eyes with his.

His scowl was more than a match for Maria’s. ‘Be it on your head, then. But I suggest you wear something different from that,’ he added, nodding at the white cheesecloth skirt and shirt she had on. ‘The top is okay. But you’ll need a swimming costume under it. It’s hot today and the water in the cove is perfect for swimming.’

Bella’s stomach tightened when she thought of the brief white bikini she’d bought at the airport. She hadn’t bought it with seduction in mind but it had seduction written all over it.

‘Fine,’ she said, doing her best to look innocent.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly.

‘Maria, how long will it take to put that picnic basket together?’ he asked.

‘Not long. Ten, fifteen minutes.’

‘I’ll go get the boat out. Bella, you go put that swimming costume on. And don’t bother with make-up. You don’t need it, anyway.’

Bella decided to take that as a compliment, despite his brusque tone. Sergio might be Casanova in bed at night but super charming in the daytime, he wasn’t.

‘Can I finish my coffee first?’ she asked.

‘If you must.’

‘I must. Then I have to go to the toilet and put my swimming costume on.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘And how long will that take?’

She shrugged. ‘Fifteen minutes. Tops.’ You learned to be quick when you worked on stage.

Sergio gave her a droll look as he stood up. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it. Women don’t know the meaning of punctuality. Just try not to keep me waiting too long.’ And he stalked off.

‘He’s a bit grumpy in the morning, isn’t he?’ Bella said as she finished her coffee.

Maria sighed. ‘Sergio. He has been sad since his papa passed away. But he will be better now that he come home to Italy to live. Even better when he finds himself a wife. Maybe someone nice like you, Bella. It is time you got married, is it not?’

Though somewhat startled by Maria’s unexpected suggestion, Bella could not help wallowing in the romantic fantasy of marrying Sergio for a few silly seconds. Till common sense kicked back in. No way would Sergio ever ask her to marry him. Frankly, she was amazed that he’d forgiven her enough to be her friend. Though of course that friendship now came with benefits, benefits that she’d enjoyed last night as much as him. Hopefully, she would enjoy some more of those benefits during their romantic picnic by the lake; just the thought of being with Sergio again made her head spin and her heart race.

‘Sergio isn’t interested in getting married just yet, Maria,’ she said, jumping up from the table and carrying the mug over to the sink. ‘And neither am I.’ Her interests lay elsewhere at the moment. ‘Now I’d better hurry.’

Seventeen minutes later she was sitting in the back of a rather ancient-looking wooden rowing boat whilst casting an envious glance at the gleaming red and white speedboat still sitting in the boat shed. The picnic basket was safely stowed under her seat, Sergio using a battered oar to push the boat away from the shore. He hadn’t changed his clothes, though he was now wearing sunglasses. Understandable, given the brightness of the day. And the water.

‘I think I should warn you,’ she said with slightly feigned nonchalance, ‘that Maria is trying to matchmake us.’

His expression showed this was not news to him, which perhaps explained his irritable mood. Maybe Maria had said something to him this morning before she’d come downstairs.

‘Maria is a romantic,’ he said with an exasperated shrug of his broad shoulders.

‘Most women are romantics at heart,’ Bella confessed. Herself included. Only a romantic would ever have imagined that one day she would find a man who would love her as deeply as she loved him; who would understand her and support her; who would be a great father as well as a fabulous husband. Such thinking was the stuff fantasies were made of. Fantasies and Hollywood movies.

Bella actually thought it sweet of Maria to imagine that she would make Sergio a good wife. Because of course she wouldn’t. Their sex life might be fine but that was about it.

Her sigh carried a degree of regret that life was infinitely more complicated for a woman once she had a successful career, especially one that was as essential to her as breathing. Bella might be suffering from burnout at the moment, but she could never give up performing. Singing for an audience made her soul soar in ways she could never describe. Without it, she would be a mere shadow of herself.

‘What did she say to you?’ Sergio asked as he began to row.

His impatient tone made Bella worry that she might have got Maria into trouble.

‘Oh, nothing much. Just that I would make you a good wife. Which was rather amusing. I can’t imagine a less suitable wife for you. Anyway, I told Maria neither of us wanted marriage at the moment. I hope you don’t mind my speaking for you.’

‘Not at all. I appreciate it.’

Just then a couple of jet skis zoomed past them, their wakes causing the rowing boat to rock back and forth, Bella sucking in sharply as she clung to the sides.

Sergio swore at them before apologising to Bella for his language. ‘Lake Como in the tourist season is not what it used to be,’ he told her.

‘Yes, I can see that,’ Bella said with regret in her voice. ‘But I suppose you can’t blame people for coming here. It’s such a beautiful place, especially in the summer.’

‘I blame the authorities for allowing cowboys like that to spoil other people’s pleasure. This is a place to relax. It is not a speedway.’

‘Yet you have a speedboat,’ she pointed out mischievously.

‘I do not drive it like a cowboy.’

She laughed. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it. Now where is this cove you’re taking me to?’

‘It’s a little way yet. If we stop talking I will row faster. Just admire the scenery and relax.’

Bella stopped talking but she didn’t relax. Perhaps because the scenery she started admiring had nothing to do with her beautiful surrounds but the man right in front of her eyes, his action of rowing focusing her attention on his magnificent physique and the way the biceps in his arms bulged with each stroke. It was to be thanked that she was wearing sunglasses because they let her ogle him shamelessly without being obvious. The instant and intense desire she’d felt for him yesterday by the pool returned with a rush, making her belly tighten and her nipples tingle. She could not wait to reach the privacy of this cove, the word secret suggesting that they would be unobserved there. They would be all alone...

* * *

Sergio could feel her eyes on him.

Yet he wasn’t even looking at her. He dared not. To look upon her exquisite beauty was sheer torture for him. The hat and the sunglasses didn’t help at all. He could still see her body, which was covered ineffectually by a semi-sheer white shirt and what looked like a very skimpy white bikini underneath. And then there were her legs...her very long, very bare legs. God, but her legs were something else. A dancer’s legs. Well toned yet graceful with slender ankles and shapely calves and lovely firm thighs, thighs that he started imagining wrapped around him whilst he...

Gritting his teeth, Sergio dragged his mind back from the brink of hell, kept his eyes down and concentrated on the rhythm of his rowing stroke. He was a good rower. He’d rowed at Oxford, his team of eight winning the regatta one year. Alex had been in the same team, but not Jeremy, who’d broken his leg skiing. He’d had to be content cheering from the banks of the river. Which he’d done very well in the company of his girlfriend at the time, as well as all the girlfriends of the rest of the team.

Sergio smiled at the memory. He was a devil with the ladies, was Jeremy.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Bella asked, forcing Sergio to glance up at her.

‘I was thinking of my rowing days at Oxford.’

‘It was a rather wicked smile,’ she pointed out with a knowing smile of her own.

‘I was also thinking of my friend, Jeremy.’

‘What about him?’

‘Jeremy was the resident Don Juan of the university.’

‘Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?’

Sergio laughed. ‘Hardly. No man alive could keep up with Jeremy when it comes to the game of musical beds. He’s now a grand master.’

‘Being a Don Juan is hardly an admirable trait.’

‘You don’t know Jeremy. There’s no malice in him. All his exes still hold him in high regard.’

‘So you don’t consider yourself a Don Juan?’

‘Not at all. I did sow some wild oats when I was at Oxford but since then my sex life has been on the conservative side. Just one girlfriend at a time.’

‘I see. And how long does a girlfriend usually last?’

‘A lot longer than Jeremy’s,’ he said drily. ‘Though I must confess I’ve had a few over the years.’

‘And you’ve never fallen in love?’

Sergio realised this conversation was getting too close to the bone. He’d also almost rowed right past the cove.

‘Not even close,’ he said abruptly. ‘Now, if you don’t mind stopping with the twenty questions, we’re here. And this next part is a little tricky to negotiate.’

* * *

Bella had been grateful for the distraction of talking. She’d also been genuinely interested in finding out more about Sergio, the man. But once silence fell between them, she was catapulted back to her earlier state where her longing to be with him again overwhelmed all other emotions. Suppressing a sigh, she glanced around her, frowning as she realised that her mental picture of Sergio’s secret cove bore little resemblance to reality. There was no cute little beach with soft sand. Just a U-shaped inlet, the shoreline bordered by an ancient stone wall as was common around the lake. The wall was quite high; Bella not seeing herself clambering up over it from a rocking boat. Neither could she see herself swimming in the water, which looked cold and deep, not at all warm. Where they would have a picnic she had no idea, unless it was in the boat.

‘The water line is higher than when I was last here,’ Sergio said as he angled the boat round a slight bend, Bella relieved to see a set of well-worn steps carved into the wall. There was also a large iron ring bolted into the wall to which Sergio secured the boat.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said when he saw her frowning. ‘There’s a lovely little secret garden on the other side of the wall. But I don’t think we’ll be going swimming. Best leave that till we get back to the villa.’

He hadn’t exaggerated. There was a truly delightful secret garden on the other side of the wall, with soft mossy grass underneath shady pine trees and an abundance of flowering shrubs exuding a variety of scents. It was obvious, however, that the garden hadn’t been tended for some time. There was no villa nearby, that she could see. Not that she could see very far; the bushes and trees were too thick.

‘Are we trespassing on private property?’ she asked as Sergio placed the wicker picnic basket under a shady tree then reached for the checked blanket resting on the double-handled lid.

‘Possibly,’ he confessed as he spread the blanket out on the ground. ‘But we’re not doing any harm. Clearly, no one uses this place any more. Come on, I don’t know about you but I’m suddenly starving.’

Bella had to agree once he opened the basket and she saw what Maria had packed for them. And there she’d been, thinking her hunger was only for Sergio. She swiftly knelt down to help him unpack all the goodies, her mouth watering over the simple but yummy-looking food. Along with two baguettes of freshly baked bread, there was a delicious selection of cold meat and cheeses, two huge bunches of fat juicy grapes, plus a couple of sinfully fattening pastries. No wine, just a flask full of iced coffee, along with two unbreakable glasses.

By the time Bella had devoured more than her fair share, all she wanted to do was lie back on that blanket and go to sleep. Her sigh of contentment echoed against the wall as she stretched out and closed her eyes.

‘I take it you won’t be needing me this time to help you sleep?’

Bella’s eyelids fluttered upwards to find him lying on his side, watching her with smouldering eyes.

Her desire for him was instant, her drowsiness of a moment ago gone like a flash.

What to say? Bella still wasn’t totally used to this new lustful creature who’d emerged to take control of her life, and who could tempt her with the wickedest of urges.

She wanted to lie naked with him on this blanket. She wanted him on top of her this time. On top of her and inside her. Filling her, and confounding her. Taking her with him again to that place where she didn’t think, or worry, or care; where all she wanted was to wallow in the most incredible physical pleasure, followed by the most brilliant of releases.

Heat flooded her face as she sat up and started undoing the buttons on her top. He didn’t move, his gaze fixed on her as she undressed. At last she was totally naked, her clothes neatly folded on the grass, topped by her hat and sunglasses. She didn’t say a word, just lay back on the blanket and looked at him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SERGIO REALISED RIGHT then and there that his vow to cut back on the sex was almost impossible to keep, especially with Bella lying naked and willing in front of him. Admittedly, he’d been asking for trouble with that leading question about her needing his help to sleep. But he’d never expected her to do what she’d just done.

The exquisite beauty of her naked body was a powerful aphrodisiac, but the naked desire in her eyes was even more powerful. No man could resist the way she was obviously wanting him. Sergio certainly couldn’t.

To give himself credit, he did try, using the age-old excuse that he hadn’t brought any condoms with him.

She blinked at him, then smiled. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, her voice all soft and smoky. ‘I’m on the pill. And before you ask,’ she added, ‘after I broke up with Andrei I had every test known to mankind. All came back negative, thank God.’

Sergio didn’t need any further encouragement. Neither did he give her any reassurances about his own clean bill of health. Though he could have. Possibly should have. But he was already kissing her, kissing her and touching her, pushing her legs apart and losing himself in the hot, wet silkiness that awaited him there. Her moans brought him to the brink with a speed that forced him to abandon her for a few seconds so that he could strip off his own clothes. No way was he going to come without being inside her.

She gasped when he entered her, then groaned, her legs lifting to wrap around him, the action giving him room to slide in deeper. God, but she felt incredible, her muscles tight around him. He didn’t dare move too vigorously, knowing that he would come within seconds. So he started rocking back and forth slowly with his hips, bracing himself above her on his elbows to keep contact to a minimum. But she would have none of it, her nails digging into his buttocks, her own hips lifting from the ground to force him in even deeper. It was too much, Sergio groaning as the last embers of his control exploded into a firestorm of raw passion. When he began pounding into her like some caveman, she came straight away, crying out his name quite loudly. His own climax swiftly followed, his release equally noisy and violent.

They clung to each other like drowning people in a stormy sea, shuddering and shaking, till eventually—after what felt like an eternity—the storm passed. Bella’s legs fell limply back to the ground, Sergio levering himself up from where he’d collapsed across her.

Her eyes, when they met his, looked stunned.

‘Good God, Sergio,’ she choked out. ‘That was... That was...’

‘Fantastic?’ he suggested, using humour to hide his fear that he might be falling in love with Bella. For surely just lust couldn’t explain the emotion that had filled him when he’d held her afterwards. He’d never wanted the moment to end.

She laughed. ‘That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.’

‘It’s the only way, sweetheart.’

‘Please don’t call me that,’ she said sharply.

‘What? Sweetheart?’

‘Yes. I’m not your sweetheart.’

God, but that hurt. Oh, yes, he was falling for her all right. Damn and blast. Bella was the last woman on earth he wanted to fall in love with. The irony of the situation did not elude Sergio. His father had fallen hard for her gold-digging mother, and now he was doing the same with the daughter, who could be just as bad, for all he knew. Sergio cursed himself for being stupid enough to confess he was a billionaire. But it was too late now. The damage had been done.

‘What would you like me to call you, then?’ he asked offhandedly whilst calling himself all sorts of names.

‘Just Bella will do fine. I’m your friend with benefits, remember, not your girlfriend.’

‘True. And might I say I’ve never had better benefits.’

Yes, this was the way to play it. Cool and casual. No way would he ever let her know his true feelings. Hell no!

Bella couldn’t understand why she was feeling so put out by Sergio’s attitude. He was only telling the truth, after all. It worried her that perhaps she was trying to put a romantic spin on her feelings for Sergio. Her mother had brought her up to believe nice girls only went to bed with men they loved. Which was why Bella had had only three lovers in over ten years. Of course, that had been long before her mother had confessed the truth about her marriage to Sergio’s father.

It was hard, though, to abandon such long-held beliefs. For a while there just now, Bella had started thinking there had to be something more between them than just sex. It seemed perverse that she’d experienced more pleasure with Sergio than she had with any of her so-called lovers. Perverse also that she should feel so bereft when he withdrew and rolled away from her. In the past, she’d always been relieved when her lover had been finished with her.

‘Is sex always this good for you, Sergio?’ she asked as he reached for his clothes.

Sergio wanted to weep. Instead, he somehow found a suitably nonchalant voice. ‘Not always.’

‘I’ve never felt anything like what just happened,’ she said.

Against all common sense, her admission thrilled him. But he dared not look at her, lest she see the light of love glistening in his eyes.

‘There’s no rhyme or reason to sexual chemistry, Bella,’ he lied as he drew on his shorts and T-shirt. ‘Sometimes it is better than others. I also suspect you haven’t been with a man for quite some time—is that right?’ he asked, finally glancing her way.

She was still disturbingly naked and made no attempt to cover herself.

‘I broke up with Andrei over a year ago.’

He already knew that, the news having made his day at the time.

‘And there’s been no one since?’

‘No.’

‘No one-night stands?’

‘I don’t have one-night stands.’

‘What? Never?’

‘No, never. I can’t think of anything worse than having sex with a virtual stranger.’

‘That’s very...um...’

‘Old-fashioned of me?’ she said.

‘I was thinking more along the line of unusual in this day and age.’

‘I suppose you have one-night stands all the time.’

‘Not very often. But there have been times in my life when some mindless sex with a virtual stranger fits the bill.’ Like when I was going crazy after seeing you with that French sleazebag. ‘Look, if you don’t mind, do you think you could put your clothes back on? Unless, of course, you want seconds.’

Bella just stared at him. ‘I’m not sure I could manage seconds. I feel a bit wrecked.’

‘You don’t look wrecked. You look beautiful.’

She flushed. ‘I think you’re a devil with the ladies too,’ she said, reaching for her clothes. ‘Just like your friend Jeremy.’

Sergio shrugged, thinking he was nothing like Jeremy. Jeremy didn’t fall in love. He always said falling in love was for fools.

Not that falling in love with a woman as unique and beautiful as Bella should make any man feel a fool. If truth be told, if he put aside his prejudices over whose daughter she was, Sergio could see Bella wasn’t a chip off the old block. If she’d been a ruthless gold-digger like her mother, she’d have already married one of her wealthy lovers. That Russian billionaire had been mega rich. Neither was she as promiscuous as he’d imagined. She was actually very sweet and sensitive, a woman worth loving. A woman worth marrying, even.

This last thought shocked Sergio to the core. It was one thing to fall in love with Bella. Another thing entirely to want to marry her. Now that was foolish. Aside from the fact that she didn’t love him back, Bella didn’t want to marry. She’d said so.

But was she telling the absolute truth? Sergio wondered as he started packing up the picnic basket. Maybe she just said that because no man had ever asked her. Maybe it was her pride talking. Sergio hoped so. Because now that he’d had time to accept the truth of his feelings, he realised that falling in love with Bella was a game changer. He would have been content with a month of her in his bed when he’d believed it was just lust he felt for her. But a mere month of sex was no longer on his wish list. He wanted a lifetime of loving Bella, wanted her as his wife and the mother of his children.

Hell, Sergio, you don’t make things easy for yourself, do you?

Still, he’d already won over her body. Now all he had to do was win over her heart.

Easier said than done.

‘So in your bachelor world, Sergio,’ Bella remarked thoughtfully as she dressed, ‘does a friend with benefits have to share?’

Sergio wasn’t sure what she was getting at. Till the penny dropped.

‘I suppose you’re referring to the Countess,’ he said.

‘Call me old-fashioned—or unusual, if you prefer—but I wouldn’t like you to go from her bed to mine tonight.’

Sergio liked her being jealous, or possessive. Or whatever you would call it. It wasn’t the same as love, but it was a good start.

‘I would never go from Claudia’s bed to yours, sweet Bella,’ he said, and leant over to kiss her lightly on the mouth.

When his head lifted he noted a wealth of doubt still in her eyes. Sergio supposed he had no one to blame but himself. He’d painted himself as a swinging bachelor and was now living with the consequences. He imagined that Bella wasn’t about to fall for him—let alone marry him—till he showed he was a man of his word whom she could trust.

‘I have never slept with the Countess,’ he told her. ‘She is a friend and neighbour, nothing more. Look, why don’t you come with me tonight? I can easily ring Claudia and explain I have a guest.’

She frowned, then shook her head. ‘No, no, please don’t. I really don’t want to have to wear that silly wig and be introduced as someone else.’

‘Then come as yourself. The Countess loves nothing better than to entertain a celebrity in her home.’

‘But I thought you wanted to keep my identity a secret!’

‘That was before. I realise now that I was being paranoid about the paparazzi. Besides, Claudia won’t tell anyone if I ask her not to. On top of that, what kind of holiday is it if you can’t relax and just be yourself?’

Her frown dissolved into the loveliest of smiles. ‘You really are a very nice man,’ she said. ‘When you’re not being wicked,’ she added before he could take her compliment to heart.

‘I’m only wicked around you,’ he said, and she laughed.

She was still smiling when they boarded the boat.

‘What’s so funny?’ he asked.

‘I was thinking how much I enjoy being your friend with benefits. I’m going to miss you when I have to go back to New York.’ She sighed. ‘If only you didn’t live so far away...’

‘There are planes, you know, Bella. I can be in New York in a few hours.’

She looked genuinely surprised. ‘You’d come and visit me?’

‘I think I could be persuaded,’ he said, having resolved not to rush things.

‘What would I have to do to persuade you?’ she asked.

He smiled what he hoped was a devilishly charming smile. ‘I’ll show you later tonight.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BELLA WASN’T OFTEN nervous these days. But she felt nervous tonight. Or was it excitement that was making her heart pound as she walked, hand in hand, with Sergio to the villa next door?

I’ll show you later tonight...

She hadn’t been able to get his erotically charged promise out of her head.

He was a devil with the ladies, she accepted. A very handsome devil. He looked utterly gorgeous tonight dressed in tailored black trousers and a snow-white silk shirt, opened at the neck. He’d shaved off the macho stubble he’d been sporting since she arrived, but it didn’t make him any less attractive to her. She found his well-groomed appearance even sexier, because she knew the conservative image he projected tonight wasn’t the real Sergio. The real Sergio was nothing like she’d always imagined. There was nothing conservative about the man who’d suggested their friends with benefits relationship. A shiver ran down her spine as she wondered what more benefits lay in store for her later tonight.

‘Are you cold?’ he asked straight away.

‘A little,’ she lied. How could she possibly be cold when her whole body was burning with desire?

‘You should have brought a wrap,’ he said. ‘That outfit you’ve got on is lovely but not exactly designed to be worn outside on a cool evening.’

Bella was wearing a white pantsuit with flared trousers and a halter-necked top with a mostly bare back. The top was lined but the amount of skin exposed meant that a bra was out of the question. She hadn’t brought many clothes with her, but this outfit was a staple with her when travelling. It could be rolled up into a ball then unravelled without a single crease. She’d paid a small fortune for it but her stylist at the time had said the outlay would be well worth it in the end.

And it had been.

It was also a sexy garment that suited her colouring and made her look very tall and elegant when she wore it with high heels. Tonight, however, she’d teamed it with low-heeled silver sandals for the ten-minute walk Sergio had said it would take to reach the Countess’s villa. Her hair was up so that it wouldn’t be messed up by the breeze from the lake.

‘I didn’t bring a wrap with me,’ she said. ‘I packed in rather a hurry.’

‘Then let me keep you warm,’ he said, folding an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

Bella suppressed a groan as she instantly responded, her nipples peaking like bullets against the silk lining, her lower belly tightening. Never in her life had she been so aware of her body, especially that area between her legs that was already throbbing with need. The thought of sitting at some dinner table for hours making small talk with someone she didn’t know was horrendous. She would much rather be back in Sergio’s bedroom, letting him show her what she could do to persuade him to visit her in New York.

Whatever it was, she would do it. She would do anything to have Sergio in her bed on a regular basis. She could not imagine life without him in it. He made her feel things that she’d never felt before. When she was with him, she didn’t feel a failure. Or a bore. She felt deliciously sexy and fabulously free of all those negative emotions that lovemaking had always produced in her. Maybe one day she would find another man who satisfied her as much as Sergio did but she doubted it. He was a fantastic lover, with a magnificent body just made for sex. On top of that, he was a true friend. He didn’t try to con her with lies, or seduce her with flattery. He was honest with her. God, but she liked that. A lot.

‘We don’t have to stay too late, do we?’ she asked.

* * *

Sergio’s heart turned over at the urgency in her voice. She might not love him, but she wanted him. Wanting someone could be very powerful, as he well knew. But it was not love.

Making Bella fall in love with him would require more than just giving her sex whenever and wherever she wanted it. Whilst he did not agree with the popular male mantra of treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen, he did understand that the female sex liked a man to be a challenge. In view of that idea, he vowed not to hurry home tonight. He would make her wait. Make her want him very badly. And if his conscience pricked him at this tactic, if there was an element of vengeance in pushing her frustration to the brink, then so be it. Let her suffer a little the way he’d suffered all these years. Let her know what it was like not to have what you wanted.

Sergio suspected it might be a new experience for Bella.

‘I’m sorry, Bella,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t possibly offend Claudia by leaving early. She was most excited when I told her who I was bringing for dinner. Now don’t pout. You’ll enjoy her company, I assure you. Not to mention her food and wine. The Countess only serves the very best.’

‘I am not pouting.’

‘Oh, yes, you are. And very prettily too. I’d kiss you into a better mood if Claudia wasn’t watching us from the terrace. So be a good girl and smile.’

‘Good Lord!’ Bella exclaimed once the Countess’s home came into better view. ‘That’s not a villa. That’s a palace!’

‘Not quite, but it is grand, I admit,’ Sergio said as he steered her up the steep path towards the stone steps that would lead them up onto the imposingly large terrace. ‘Wait till you see the main reception room,’ he added before they were within earshot of their beaming hostess. ‘Acres of marble and the most expensive antique furniture money can buy. Of course, the Count was very rich. And very old. He died shortly after their first wedding anniversary. Rumour has it he died with a smile on his face.’

‘I can imagine,’ Bella whispered as they mounted the steps. ‘She’s very beautiful.’

‘But not as young as she looks,’ he whispered back, then said, ‘Claudia!’ in a normal voice. ‘How lovely you look tonight.’

‘Why, thank you, Sergio,’ she replied in her fake Italian accent. Sergio knew full well that she wasn’t Italian born, his father having confided in him that she’d come from Albania, having been born into a dirt-poor family a few years after the war. Sergio never let on that he knew the truth about her background. Everyone was entitled to at least one secret in their life. He certainly had his, vowing that he would never tell Bella how much he’d always wanted her. Such knowledge would not enhance his attractiveness in her eyes.

‘And this is the very beautiful Bella,’ the Countess said, coming forward to take both of Bella’s hands in hers. She was a toucher, was Claudia. And very charming. ‘Alberto was very fond of you, my dear. Proud too. He went to London to see you perform, did you know that?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Bella said, looking discomfited by this information.

‘He would be very glad to see you and his son together.’

Sergio waited for Bella to deny that they had a relationship, but she didn’t. She just smiled, then threw him a look that said please rescue me.

He wasn’t inclined to do any such thing. He wanted Claudia to think they were an item. But he didn’t want the whole world to know. Not just yet.

‘We’re keeping our relationship a secret for now,’ he told their hostess. ‘Don’t want the paparazzi getting wind of it. So as I told you over the phone, Claudia, not a word about her staying at the lake here with me.’

‘I will not breathe a word,’ she replied with a conspiratorial smile. ‘But you must promise me that I will be the first to know, if and when you plan to announce your engagement.’

Bella looked startled whilst Sergio laughed. ‘We’re not quite at the engagement stage yet. But if and when we are, you’ll be the first to know.’

‘Wonderful,’ she said, clapping her hands together. ‘I love any excuse for a party, as you well know. Now we should go inside and into the dining room before Angela comes storming out in search of us. You know how she is. Italian cooks are such temperamental creatures,’ she informed Bella.

After that, the evening went smoothly, which was understandable, given the social skills of their hostess. The Countess had the knack of making her guests feel special, her questions never seeming to pry, even if the end result was that she uncovered all sorts of personal details in the process. Bella finally confessed over dessert that she had been feeling seriously burnt out for some time, and probably needed a longer holiday than a month, at which Sergio jumped in and said it would be no hardship for him if she stayed longer. Claudia smiled a knowing smile at that point whilst Bella astounded him by blushing, which seemed out of character for a woman of her age and experience. But then Sergio recalled what she’d told him earlier today about never having had a one-night stand. He’d found that unusual but rather sweet. He found her blushing sweet, yet sexy at the same time.

God, but he had it bad!

The maid appeared just then, the same girl Claudia always hired when she had a dinner party. Angela refused to wait on tables, claiming she was a cook, not a waitress.

‘We’ll have coffee in the music room, Gina,’ Claudia informed her. ‘Shall we?’ she added, waving imperiously to Sergio and Bella as she stood up.

They exchanged glances as they both stood up, Sergio taking Bella’s arm and steering her in Claudia’s wake. To reach the music room they had to walk through the main reception room, which had Bella telling him with her eyes that she was seriously impressed. The music room was just as impressive and almost as large, with several intimate seating arrangements and a grand piano situated very grandly in a semi-circular alcove that had floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the lake that was truly spectacular during the day and still enchanting at night.

When they were seated—on a brocade-covered sofa and chairs, which were more comfortable than they looked—Bella complimented Claudia on the beauty of the room, then asked her if she played the piano.

‘Alas, no,’ their hostess replied. ‘The Count was the pianist. And a brilliant one at that. I loved listening to him play. Do you play the piano, Bella?’

‘I do,’ she admitted, surprising Sergio. He’d never heard her play during the years he’d lived in the same house as her. They hadn’t even had a piano. ‘Not all that well, however,’ she added. ‘In the performing arts school I attended, playing the piano was mandatory. We also had lessons in composition. It helps to play the piano if you want to write songs. Of course, most songwriters nowadays use an electronic keyboard rather than a piano. I keep one in my apartment in New York. It cost me the earth but then it does have a lot of features including auto recording, a must if you don’t want to risk losing your work.’

‘You actually write songs?’ Sergio asked, then kicked himself for sounding surprised.

Her expression was rueful. ‘Yes, Sergio, I actually write songs. I wrote the main song for An Angel in New York. I’ve earned almost as much money from writing that song as I have from singing it.’

‘What a clever girl you are!’ Claudia said. ‘Ah, here’s Gina. Just put the tray down there, dear. I’ll pour. Now, after we’ve had our coffee, I insist you sing that lovely song you wrote, Bella darling. This room has perfect acoustics. You will sound like an angel. An Angel from New York,’ she added with her most persuasive smile.

Bella wasn’t just clever but exceptionally talented, Sergio was reminded as he listened to her play the piano and sing at the same time. Her voice was as unique as she was. Clear as a bell, with perfect diction, it could soften then soar with effortless ease. But it was the emotion she put into her performances that lifted her talent to a level that had made her the darling of Broadway. She might be burnt out at the moment, but you would never know it listening to her tonight. Singing and performing were her life-blood. Sergio could see that. She could never give it up. Any man who expected her to would be a fool.

Sergio didn’t consider himself a fool. If and when...no, when he married Bella, he would have to be prepared to put his own working life on hold occasionally whilst he supported her career. He would have to learn to delegate so that he could be with her in New York, or London, or wherever her career took her.

It wasn’t what he was used to doing. He’d been a very hands-on boss in their franchise business. He’d also been looking forward to the challenge of making the family business a success again. His falling in love with Bella, however, was forcing him to change his priorities. Winning her heart was now number one in his life. The family business would have to take a back seat till that happened. Though who knew? Maybe a miracle would happen and he’d find a way to turn things around during the next month. Of course, the only way to do that was to get started. Pronto. Come tomorrow, he would definitely be driving into Milan to see the lie of the land, up close and personally.

But that was tomorrow, his focus right now was on other things, namely getting Bella back home where he could show her his love by making love to her with some more of the passion he’d bottled up for years. He would have to be careful, however, not to tell her that he loved her in the heat of the moment.

Patience, Sergio, he exhorted himself.

Not one of his favourite virtues.

Finally, he was able to get her away from Claudia without appearing to be in a hurry.

It was Bella herself who almost proved to be his undoing, turning to him as soon as they were out of sight.

‘I think I’m going to die, Sergio, if you don’t kiss me right here and now,’ she said, her voice vibrating with an urgency that echoed his own.

‘I think we should wait till I get you home,’ he said, trying to keep it together.

‘No,’ she argued, her face flushing as she wound her arms around his neck and pressed up against him. ‘No more waiting. I’m done with waiting. Tonight has been nothing but sheer torture.’

Still, he hesitated. But then he slowly lifted his hands to undo the button at the back of her neck. He peeled the top downwards, till she was naked to the waist, pushing her away from him so that he could look at her, taking in her erect nipples and her rapid breathing.

‘If I kiss you now,’ he said, his voice low and husky with desire, ‘I won’t stop at kissing. Your lovely clothes will be ruined and the sex won’t be as good as it should be.’

‘I don’t care,’ she cried, her voice and her body trembling uncontrollably.

‘But I do,’ he told her, and bent to scoop her up into his arms. She gasped, then wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

‘You obviously need more than a quickie in the garden. You need me to make love to you till you can’t move a single muscle. I will tie you naked to the bedposts and make you come and come till you beg me to leave you alone. That is what you need, isn’t it, Bella?’ he ground out as he started carrying her along the path at considerable speed.

She didn’t say a word. Just groaned, then buried her face into his chest.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

WHEN BELLA WOKE the next morning, she was astonished to find herself back in her own bed. She had definitely been in the master bedroom when she’d finally fallen asleep last night. Sergio must have carried her back to her room at some stage but she had no memory of it. The clothes she’d worn the night before were draped over a chair in the corner, her sandals placed neatly underneath.

Clearly, Sergio didn’t want Maria knowing they were sleeping together. No doubt if she knew, Maria would have them married off even quicker than the Countess. Though how he imagined they could keep their relationship a secret for a whole month she had no idea. Maria was a very intuitive woman.

Sighing, Bella rolled over and glanced at the small antique clock that sat on the mantelpiece over the fireplace. Lord, it was past noon! She hadn’t slept so soundly in years. Obviously, a satisfying sex life was the answer to that. And it was satisfying. Very. After their first rather frantic mating last night—up against the back of his bedroom door, no less!—Sergio had proceeded to make slow love to her in bed for ages, Bella adoring the way he’d looked deep into her eyes as he’d done so. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d come. It was no wonder that in the end she’d fallen into such a deep sleep, one where she’d been blissfully unaware of being carried back to her own room.

A soft knock on her bedroom door had her sitting up abruptly, pulling the sheet up over her bare breasts.

‘Sergio?’ she said, feeling perversely shy all of a sudden.

‘No, no, it is me. Maria. Sergio...he has gone to Milan. He left a couple of hours ago.’

‘Oh, yes. He did tell me he was going there today but I forgot. Come in, Maria.’

She opened the door and bustled in, looking uncharacteristically worried. ‘I’m sorry to wake you. Sergio said you had a late night. But I must go home soon. My little Antonio, he has a bad cold and Carlo, he is working on the other side of the lake today.’

‘Then you should go home straight away, Maria,’ Bella said.

Maria frowned. ‘But I have to make your bed and clean your bathroom.’

‘I am quite capable of making my own bed and cleaning my own bathroom. Now off you go.’

‘Are you sure? What about your lunch?’

‘Maria, I am sure I can rustle up something. I saw how much food was in the cupboards and fridge. On top of that, it is only a short walk to the closest village where there is an excellent café and bakery. I have stayed here before, you know. A long time ago, but, as the driver told me the other day, Italy does not change much. And please, do not even think of coming back tonight. I will get Sergio to take me out somewhere for dinner when he gets home from work.’

Maria smiled with relief. ‘You are very kind. I will go now, then.’

‘Yes, please do.’

After Maria hurried off, Bella lay back on the pillow and sighed, having remembered that Sergio planned to go into Milan every weekday from now on, not just today. Which was somewhat disappointing. She’d been hoping to have him all to herself for the next month. Still, the family business was in dire straits, he’d told her during one of his brief rests from lovemaking last night. It had, in fact, been losing money for several years, his father not proving to be as astute a businessman as his grandfather.

‘Of course, the economic climate has changed,’ Sergio had explained. ‘So have the markets. Where once Morelli leather goods were huge sellers, both overseas and here in Italy, they now can’t compete with the cheaper imports from Asia. We don’t have any branches in any other countries any more. They just weren’t profitable. We now use independent agencies to try to sell our wares overseas. Without much success, I’m afraid.’

Bella recalled he’d looked very concerned.

‘Some of the staff have been with the company all their working lives,’ he’d continued. ‘My father found it impossible to let any of them go, but I will have to do some restructuring or all the staff will be out of work. Luckily, I have plenty of money of my own to invest in some much-needed change. But what those changes will be, I have yet to determine. Hopefully, I will get some inspiration tomorrow when I go through the factory and talk to the employees.’

Bella had made all the right noises, saying she had every confidence in him, but in reality she hadn’t been concentrating, her focus distracted by the way he’d been caressing her as he’d chatted away. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. Not that she was any better. As the night had worn on she’d become addicted to stroking him very intimately, loving the way she could bring him back to erection within minutes of his having climaxed. She’d been doing just that when she’d playfully asked him what she had to do to make sure he’d visit her in New York. He’d just smiled and said she didn’t have to do anything special. Just be there when he arrived at her apartment, wearing nothing but perfume.

A smiling Bella had given him her faithful promise, at which point Sergio had stopped talking and started making love to her yet again.

What amazing stamina he had! And what incredible know-how. He knew exactly how to move when he was inside her. And how to move her. She’d been amazed at the various positions he’d shown her. She was already looking forward to Sergio coming home tonight. She would wear something sexy for him. Something new. The village she’d spoken of to Maria also had a nice little fashion boutique. Or they used to. Hopefully, it would still be there.

It was. Though with a new owner. It had also gone very up-market, selling high-end accessories along with designer clothes. Fortunately, the new lady owner didn’t recognise Bella despite her not wearing the red wig, though she did fuss over her once she realised money was no object. Bella’s stylist had drummed into her that buying quality was always worth it in the end, as long as you didn’t buy super-trendy things that would go out of fashion the following year. The owner was delighted when Bella invested in a sundress, a cocktail dress, a pair of shorts, two summery tops and a lovely cashmere wrap, Bella determined to have something for every occasion during her stay here with Sergio. Her last purchase was a pair of sensible but very expensive walking shoes, which would cope with the cobblestone paths better than the sandals she was wearing. Keeping them on, she asked the woman to hold her purchases till she’d had some lunch, which of course she was very happy to do.

Fifteen minutes later, Bella was sitting at an outdoor table connected to a nearby café, eating a delicious salad and drinking some sparkling mineral water when a brilliant idea came to her. At least, she thought it was brilliant. Excitement raced through her veins at the realisation that this might be the answer to Sergio’s prayers. Bella would have called Sergio immediately with her idea, but she didn’t have her phone with her, having deposited it in the top drawer of one of her bedside tables. She’d been determined to remain out of touch with the rest of the world for several days at least; hadn’t wanted to be confronted by the long line of missed calls that would inevitably be there, along with a whole swag of unread messages. Her mother would be the main culprit, trying to find out where she was and who she was with.

Bella felt a twinge of conscience at this last thought. She supposed it was a bit mean not to let her mother know she was safe and well. And she wasn’t a mean person. If truth be told, she was too kind for her own good, sometimes, especially where her mother was concerned. When her career had first taken off, she’d kept her mother on as her manager for much longer than she should have. Bella had known people didn’t respond well to Dolores’s aggressive, stage-mother manner. She’d been told more than once that she would do better with a professional manager, someone with the experience and the contacts to take Bella’s career to the next level. At the time, she’d been getting only minor roles on Broadway, plus the occasional singing gig on television back home in Sydney.

But she hadn’t wanted to hurt her mother. She also hadn’t had the confidence to take such a step. She’d only been a teenager, after all.

It had been Raoul coming into her life that had precipitated her finally getting out from under her mother’s thumb. An international polo player from Argentina, Raoul had pursued her with the kind of persistence Bella would always find very flattering. Even so, it had taken the Argentinian playboy several weeks to seduce Bella away from her mother’s stultifying influence and into his bed. Any satisfaction he had initially found in deflowering Bella, however, had gradually turned to dissatisfaction. He hadn’t been cruel when he’d broken up with her but he had been blunt.

‘You need to get that mother of yours out of your life, Bella, if you want to become a real woman,’ he’d told her. ‘She is keeping you like a little girl. You need to grow up and take control of your life, and your career. Get yourself professional representation before it’s too late.’

So she had, firing her mother and signing with Josh, who was a top New York agent. Dolores, of course, had put on the biggest tantrum, only alleviated when Bella had signed a contract where her mother still received ten per cent of her income, though only for the next ten years. Which possibly explained why her mother was so keen on her doing that movie, Bella realised, with her gravy train running out in just over a year’s time.

Not that Bella would ever see her mother go short of money. Neither did she want her to worry unnecessarily. Bella decided to bite the bullet and give the woman a call this afternoon, but not till after she’d rung Sergio. He was her priority at the moment. It gave her a warm fuzzy feeling to think she might be able to help him with his family business. Hopefully, he would agree that her idea had merit.

Excited now, she finished her lunch, then hurried along to the boutique where she collected her parcels, saying a silent thanks that the clothes she’d bought were not heavy items. Nevertheless, by the time she arrived back at the villa Bella was a little puffed, having walked at a solid pace all the way. Racing up the stairs to her bedroom, she dropped the parcels on the floor, retrieved her phone from the drawer, turning it on as she sat down on the side of the bed. Ignoring the ping that informed her of all her missed calls and messages, she took a few calming breaths, then called Sergio.

He didn’t answer for several rings, by which time Bella’s heart was racing.

‘Bella!’ he said at last, anxiety in his voice. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

‘Nothing’s happened,’ she reassured him. ‘Nothing bad, that is. I went into the village to buy a few things and when I was there, I had this idea I thought might be helpful for the business. I would have rung you then and there but I didn’t have my phone with me. Anyway, I got so excited that I practically ran home so that I could call you ASAP. I haven’t rung you at a bad time, have I? You sound stressed.’

‘If you’d seen our sales figures you’d be stressed too. You’re going to have to be a miracle worker, my darling, to turn them around. But I’m all ears.’

Bella was so taken aback by his calling her his darling that she was speechless for a few seconds. Not that he’d meant anything serious by it. But it had thrilled her all the same. Thrilled her to pieces. The possibility that she was falling in love with him worried the life out of her. Not that Sergio wasn’t a man worth falling in love with. He was, his concern for his employees very touching. His spirit was generous, not greedy. Caring, not selfish. As Luigi had said, he was a good man.

But if she did fall in love with him, there was no use fantasising that he might fall in love with her in return. That would be too good to be true. It wasn’t going to happen. Sergio would never let himself fall in love with the daughter of the woman who’d ruined his father’s life. The truth was he fancied her for the reason men always fancied her. Because they found her beautiful and sexy-looking. Love had nothing to do with his feelings for her.

Best you concentrate on just being his friend with benefits, that sensible inner voice warned her. Because to start hoping for more is the way to a broken heart.

‘Bella?’ Sergio prompted. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Yes, yes. Still here. Just assembling my thoughts.’ And trying to be sensible.

‘Is this idea of yours complicated?’

‘Not really. Just hard to put into words.’

‘What’s the basic thrust of it? Try to use as few words as possible.’

‘Well, the bottom line is your products are too cheap.’

‘Too cheap! Are you mad? We can’t compete, price-wise, as it is.’

‘Then don’t. You’re on a losing battle to nothing trying to compete with imports from countries that can make things for a fraction of what you can. You should do what Italy does best, Sergio. Produce stylish, super-quality products for which you can charge a premium. People will pay over and above for true quality. Trust me. I know. I’m one of them.’

Sergio was silent for a long moment before he answered. ‘Yes, I see what you’re getting at,’ he said slowly. ‘My God, Bella, I think you’re right. We should be putting our prices up, not down. What a clever girl you are!’

‘But only if you lift the quality,’ Bella pointed out, glad Sergio couldn’t see how her heart had squeezed tight at his compliment. ‘You might also have to rebrand and advertise extensively. People need to look at your products with new eyes.’

‘Sounds good but that’ll take a lot of money, Bella. Money and time.’

‘Well, you have plenty of both, don’t you, Sergio? It’s not as though you have anything else to do.’

His laugh struck an odd note to Bella’s ears. ‘I dare say you’re right again,’ he said. ‘I don’t have anything important on my agenda in the near future, other than flying over to New York occasionally to see a certain person.’

‘Oh? And who might that be?’ she asked playfully. Yes, this was the way to handle things. No point in putting your heart on your sleeve.

‘A very beautiful lady with a very brilliant mind.’

Bella couldn’t help flushing with pleasure. And feeling exasperated with herself at the same time. ‘You don’t have to flatter me, Sergio,’ she said a bit tartly. ‘I’m a sure thing.’

‘Now that, my darling Bella, is something you’ll never be. Look, I’d better get off this phone and have a chat with some of the designers. See what they can do about creating a new top-of-the-range line of shoes and handbags. I suspect they’ll be quite excited.’

‘That’s excellent. Before you go, Sergio, could you bring home some samples of your shoes and handbags so that I can have a look at them and compare them with what I buy?’ In truth, she was genuinely curious. And very keen to help.

‘Will do.’

‘What time do you think you might be home?’ she asked.

‘Not early. I have a lot to do here. Possibly around seven, seven-thirty. Ciao.’ And he hung up.

The abrupt termination of the call, plus the realisation that it would be hours before she saw him again, left Bella feeling rather deflated, her brilliant idea having backfired on her a little. Clearly, Sergio was fired up by her suggestions and couldn’t wait to get to work on them. Making that scale of changes would be a huge project, however, and would mean his working long hours. She would miss him terribly. At the same time, Bella was glad that she’d been able to help him. She’d seen how worried he was, not just about the fate of the family company, but the people who worked there.

Her sigh carried resignation to the fact that she wouldn’t have as much of Sergio’s company as she would have liked. And she wasn’t thinking just about sex. She loved talking to him as well. Loved just being with him.

And the reason for that, she told herself firmly, is that you’ve definitely fallen in love with the man.

Bella groaned, any happiness this realisation brought—she much preferred love to lust—tempered by the reality that it was a one-sided love. Sergio did like her. And he desired her. Maybe, after today, he even admired her. But that wasn’t the same as love.

Frowning, Bella stood up and wandered out onto the balcony, wondering how she could get Sergio to fall in love with her. Despite being a confident girl where her career was concerned, she wasn’t at all confident when it came to men, her past relationships having battered her self-esteem in that regard. Also, there was still the problem of whose daughter she was. That could be a huge hurdle in Sergio’s mind. It was a dismaying thought.

* * *

In the end, Bella decided all she could do was love him to the best of her ability and hope he eventually reciprocated. She dismissed the idea of telling him she loved him. That would make her sound needy and clingy. A long-time bachelor like Sergio would not respond to a woman who was either needy or clingy. No, she would have to be patient.

Patience, however, was not one of her virtues. Neither was not getting what she wanted. Dolores had unfortunately passed along a degree of stubbornness to her daughter, plus a determination to win. Bella had never wanted to win a man before. In the past, it had all been about men trying to win her.

Bella was mulling over lots of various thoughts when her phone rang.

Her groan carried exasperation at the realisation that she hadn’t turned it off after talking to Sergio. She knew who it would be. Who else but her mother? Dolores didn’t have the patience to wait for someone to ring her back.

Bracing herself, Bella walked back into the bedroom and over to where she’d left the phone on the bedside table. Picking it up, she checked the caller ID then lifted it to her ear.

‘Hello, Mum,’ she said calmly. No point in getting herself in a twist. After all, she’d already decided earlier to give her mother a call.

‘At last she deigns to turn her damned phone on and answer me!’ came the snappy retort. ‘What on earth have you been thinking, girl? You have responsibilities. And a career. Or you did have one before you disappeared off the face of the earth without telling anyone where you were going. Do you know how many calls I have had complaining that they can’t get in touch with you?’

Bella smiled a rueful smile. Lord, but her mother was just so predictable. She wasn’t worried about her daughter’s physical safety. Just her career.

‘Actually no, I don’t,’ Bella replied with deliberate nonchalance. ‘How many?’

‘Too many to recount. Just go to your voicemail or your message bank and you’ll see for yourself. Josh is desperate to get in touch with you. And so is Charlie. I’m sure it’s about the Angel in New York movie. I did ask but they wouldn’t tell me.’

Thank heavens.

‘I’ll ring Josh as soon as I get off the phone to you,’ Bella offered. She could not deny being curious. Josh was never desperate. But if Charlie had been able to get that movie onto the drawing board again, then her manager would be very excited. And so would she. She loved that musical. Singing the song she wrote for it last night had reminded her just how much.

‘That’s more like it,’ Dolores said. ‘Go do it right now. But promise you will ring me back straight away and tell me what’s going on.’

‘Don’t you want to know where I am?’ Bella couldn’t resist asking.

‘Humph! No point in asking that when I know you won’t tell me.’

‘True. But I still expect you to ask.’

‘Do you know you’ve grown into a very frustrating woman?’

‘Takes one to know one, Mum. But at least you called me a woman this time, instead of a girl.’

A heavy sigh wafted down the line. ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Isabel,’ she said, always resorting to her daughter’s full name when she was severely irritated.

Bella relented with the teasing. ‘I don’t want to either, Mum.’

‘Good. Then get off this phone and ring Josh!’

Bella did as she was told for once and rang Josh, who informed her that he and Charlie had got together and decided to produce An Angel in New York independently with their own money, provided she starred in it. Naturally, she told him she would, but she also stood her ground and said she needed a holiday first. Thankfully, he didn’t argue with her, though he did make her promise to be back in New York by the first of August to help them with the casting and the costumes. She agreed, knowing that she couldn’t hide away here with Sergio for ever. Her dream holiday had to come to an end some time.

She hung up, feeling an odd mixture of excitement and apprehension. Part of her wanted to tell Sergio about the movie—she was thrilled that it was going ahead—but instinct warned her not to. She’d just made an important connection with him with her ideas for his family company and she didn’t want to spoil that by talking about her own career. In the short time she had left, Bella wanted to concentrate on him and his needs. It crossed her mind as she planned out the rest of her day that Sergio was as lonely as she was. He needed her as much as she needed him.

Hopefully, by the time she had to leave Lake Como for the flight back to New York, he would realise that. Hopefully, he would come after her the way he’d said he would. And even more hopefully, he would eventually fall in love with her.

‘And who’s being the cockeyed optimist now, Bella?’ she said to herself as she took a deep breath, then resignedly rang her mother back.

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