“No, not really. I just need the money for something specific.”
“And that would be?”
She opened her mouth then clamped it shut. “I’d prefer not to say.”
“You swear it is nothing illegal?”
Her eyes stayed hooked to his. “I’m not a criminal.”
He noticed the slight rephrasing but ignored it. Her indignation was understandable.
“Eighty-five now, and the balance at the end of the marriage. Deal?”
Relief washed over her visibly, so her shoulders sagged. “Yes, thank you.”
“As for your appearance, you should make whatever arrangements are necessary for you to feel ready to be in my world. I’ll organise a credit card for you—use it as much as you’d like. Buy a new wardrobe, do whatever—,” he gestured to her face and body, “it is women do. We’ll leave America in twenty-four hours.Va bene?”
She looked as though she’d been pulled into a whirlwind, but she nodded.
“On second thought, don’t change your hair.” He reached out with his other hand and caught a thick lock of it in his palm, feeling its silky smoothness. “It’s perfect, just the way it is.”
Her eyes stayed locked to his face and he felt his body stirring with unmistakable need—a need he intended to flatly ignore with his wife. It was the only way to keep this under control. He dropped his hands and took a businesslike step away from her, then moved toward the door of her dingy hotel room.
“My assistant will be in touch with a credit card and instructions on our departure.” At the door, aware that his body was pounding with raw, hungry need, he turned back to her, then wished he hadn’t. Just the sight of Allegra, backlit by the window, made his gut twist and his cock jerk painfully against the seam of his pants.
“One more thing.” He knew he was right to be emphatic and clear about this from the beginning. “I am not interested in living like a monk for the next twelve months, but I assure you, any liaisons will be undertaken with the utmost discretion. I would expect the same from you. Remember, as far as anyone knows, we are a happily married couple.”
He waited for her sharp nod—which came shortly after her short intake of breath—and then, he left, with a sureness to his step that everything was falling perfectly into place. The company, finally, would be his, and for the bargain price of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and twelve months of pretend marriage. Easy.
CHAPTER 3
HIS HEART SANK THE SECOND she stepped out of the chauffeur-driven Rolls and started walking—no, sashaying—towards the plane. How had he not noticed how elegant she was? How naturally…sensual. Every shift of her hips was like a siren song, calling to him, begging him to do the one thing he’d been thinking about since leaving her the day before, and draw her into his arms.
The one thing he’d promised them both he wouldn’t do.
He had one week—their honeymoon—to inure himself to her charms. To get used to being in her space and not wanting her like this. One week to conquer the desire that was running through his bloodstream like a virus. But holy hell, she was a goddess. She had been all along. In his shirt, with her hair messy and her face devoid of makeup, she’d been utterly beautiful. Now, wearing a silk camisole—without a bra, he suspected, going by the soft curves that were revealed by the fabric—and a pair of skinny jeans, and bangles on both wrists, she looked both chic and sexy. Just the kind of woman he would usually have on his arm.
“I take it you approve?” she asked as she drew closer, but there was a hint of anxiety behind the question, a genuine seeking of reassurance.
How? He wanted to know. How could a woman like this not be used to men falling at her feet? For all her beauty, she seemed so inexperienced and vulnerable.
“Si,” was all he said. It was a warm morning in Vegas, and the heat was waving off the tarmac of this private airport. “Ready?”
Her eyes shifted to beyond him, where a gleaming jet with the Di Santis corporate logo on the tail was primed for flight.
She looked verynotready. She looked like she wanted to duck her head under the covers and hide. He braced for her to tell him ‘no’. She’d thought about it, changed her mind. But then, his assistant had delivered a cheque to her the day before, and she’d already banked it, so backing out would be difficult.
“Yes,” she said, finally, her eyes awash with uncertainty. “I guess so.”
His laugh was soft, carried away by the Vegas breeze. “You sound like you’re on your way to eat poison apples.”
She grimaced. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
“You never know, you might even enjoy being my fake wife,” he said with a lift of his brow.
Fat chance,she thought, as she walked up the steps of the private jet, his hand lightly, politely on her elbow. It took all her willpower not to react to the touch, the way just the brushing of his fingers against her bare flesh made her bones feel as though they were made of liquid gold.
How was she going to get through a year of this? Being in close proximity to him and acting as though it didn’t make her whole body tremble with anticipation?
