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‘Maybe, but he’s still the best person to deal with the situation on her behalf. I’ve told my source to double-check and then come back to me. Until he does we can’t really do anything. Was Blayne supposed to pay any bills for this party of Dorland’s?’ Silas asked.
Julia frowned. ‘No, we worked together with Dorland, and he paid for everything himself. I’m going to be more a hostess for him than anything else. But why are you asking me that?’
‘If Dorland had given Prêt a Party money then it’s pretty likely it would have found its way into Blayne’s pocket—and then we would have a repetition of what happened in Positano.’
‘No, Dorland has definitely paid for everything himself,’ Julia told him, adding with relief, ‘Thank goodness.’
Julia was still thinking about Lucy several hours later, when she knocked on the door of Dorland’s suite.
‘Julia! What—no fabbie jewels?’ Dorland exclaimed as he opened the door to her himself and immediately examined her left hand. ‘Don’t tell me the engagement is off?’
Julia laughed.
‘Not yet,’ she answered mischievously. She had no intention of giving Dorland any kind of hint that she and Silas were actually married, and she certainly wasn’t going to let him guess why.
Dorland pouted, and then batted what Julia saw were fake turquoise eyelashes at her.
‘I thought he was going to load you down with heirlooms.’
‘The insurers wouldn’t let him,’ Julia answered, straight-faced.
‘You must watch that, Julia. There is nothing worse than a mean billionaire,’ Dorland warned her, ignoring her comment.
‘Silas isn’t mean.’
‘Oooh, so it is a love thang, then, is it? I thought so! Sex is all very well, but take it from me, diamonds are better.’
‘Speaking of which, did the Tiffany necklace turn up?’ Julia asked him.
‘No, and Tiffany are being absolutely howwid to me about it. You wouldn’t credit it. Still, we won’t talk about that now. Not when all I want to talk about is my fabby party. Everyone is coming…a certain celebrity European princess, plus an even more celebrity Hollywood couple—you’ll know who I mean. They are all so famous I’m not allowed to so much as breathe their names,’ he added coyly. ‘Just the whole of the A list are going to be here—even a certain international footballer and his wife are coming, and guess who they are bringing with them?’
‘Er…who?’ Julia asked dutifully.
‘Only Jon Belton!’
Julia looked suitably impressed at the mention of the ultra-famous pop singer.
‘Oh, Jules, I am just sooo excited,’ Dorland exclaimed excitedly. ‘It is going to be the party of the year—and of course A-List Life will have an exclusive on it. Now, sweet, down to business. I’ve already spoken to the hotel people and arranged for a piano, but you know, I was thinking—wouldn’t it be fun to have the balloons printed with a piano motif—black balloons with a white piano, perhaps encrusted with just the teeny-weeniest bit of diamanté? So retro and so Liberace. I can see it now!’
So, unfortunately, could Julia.
‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ she asked cautiously.
‘Of course I do. Why? Don’t you?’
‘Well, it could be just a tad over the top, don’t you think?’
‘Julia, I am Dorland Chesterfield—nothing I do could ever be too over the top,’ Dorland told her theatrically.
‘How’s it going?’
Julia shook her head as Silas reached for her hand and held it firmly in his own. He had been waiting for her when she finally left Dorland’s suite, and now they were walking back to their villa through the hotel gardens.
‘Dorland is wearing false eyelashes—turquoise false eyelashes. Apparently he’s going to be wearing turquoise-coloured contact lenses for the party. And he’s going to be sprayed with fake tan.’
‘I’m beginning to fear the worst,’ Silas murmured wryly.
‘He’s had a shirt specially made for him by Roberto Cavalli, and he’s going to wear a white suit.’
She could feel Silas starting to shake with laughter.
‘Silas, it isn’t funny. He’s bought a white poodle—and a diamond-and turquoise-studded collar.’
‘For whom?’
‘The poodle, of course. At least, I assume it’s for the poodle. I haven’t told you the worst yet, though.’
‘Could it be any worse?’
‘Yes. He keeps on talking about Liberace—Silas, stop laughing. Silas!’ Julia protested breathlessly as he suddenly stopped walking and pulled her towards him.
‘We’re almost back at the villa,’ she told him huskily, as his hands moulded her against his body.
‘I can’t wait that long.’
His skin smelled of warm night air and that sexy indefinable smell that was just him, and his lips were cool and slightly salty as they teased and cajoled hers.
Julia looped her arms around his neck and traced the shape of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, glorying in the now familiar starburst of erotic delight fizzing eagerly inside her. It wouldn’t always be like this between them, of course; one day this fierce, intoxicating passion would become a warm and familiar comforting glow rather than something that still filled her with half-shocked delight. One day. A long, long time from now, when they were old…
Growing old with Silas. The rest of their lives together. How very lucky she was—and how very, very happy. She held him tighter, kissing him passionately, making a small soft sound of pleasure deep in her throat as she felt him start to unfasten her cut-offs and then slide his hand inside the opening.
‘You’re so wet…’
‘Mmm, I know…Uhh. Ohh. Mmm, Silas…’ Her body was already moving rhythmically against his caressing fingers, her own hand closing round him whilst she shuddered in pleasurable anticipation. He fitted her so well. Filled her so well, making her feel each time that she almost might not be able to take the pleasure of the depth and intensity of his thrusts, and yet at the same time miraculously somehow making her feel that she wanted to stretch, to have more and more of him.
‘Silas, I’m going to come,’ she warned him.
‘No. Not yet. I want to watch you when you do…’
He removed his fingers, slowly and gently, and then kissed her tenderly, keeping her close to his side as they walked the last few yards to their villa.
CHAPTER NINE
JULIA lay in bed next to Silas, dreamily watching the early-morning sunshine stroking golden warmth onto his bare skin. Silas had the most perfect male body she had ever seen, and just looking at it—at him—filled her with such a deep well of wonder and happiness. She had never imagined that she would know this level of joy and fulfilment, or feel that her future stretched out in front of her in a rose-coloured pathway sparkling with gold dust. She was just so happy—and all because of Silas.
‘I thought you said you wanted to be up early today, with it being Dorland’s big day.’
‘Mmm, I did,’ she agreed reluctantly.
She was going to be tied up for most of the day, and they had agreed that Silas would leave her to do what she had to do whilst he got on with some work of his own. But not yet. Definitely not yet. She snuggled closer to Silas, drawing sexy shapes on his bare shoulder with the tip of her tongue and then, nibbling his earlobe and whispering in his ear.
‘You’ve got to guess what I’m drawing, and if you’re wrong you have to pay a forfeit.’
‘Which is?’
‘Either massage my feet or shag me.’
‘And if I get it right and win?’
‘You get to massage my feet and shag me,’ Julia told him generously, before adding dreamily, ‘I’m keeping a count of how many orgasms I’ve had with you.’
‘What for? Comparison or posterity?’
Julia giggled. ‘Well, it isn’t for comparison—no one could compare with you, Silas. Do you think I should count all those little mini multiple “o”s
I had last night as one or individually?’
