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Still ragingly aroused, Cesare sprang out of bed, his fists angrily clenched. What the hell had he been thinking of? No matter how great the temptation, he should never have touched her. They had a business agreement and a planned marriage of convenience ahead of them. They were not lovers, not friends with benefits. He did not want to muddy the waters with the kind of physical intimacy that women often assumed meant more than it did. If he wasn’t careful, he might find himself more married than he had ever wanted to be, he acknowledged grimly.
Paralysed by a crazy sense of peace in the aftermath of orgasm, Lizzie closed her eyes, her body still trembling from the sweet aftermath of agonising pleasure. The mattress gave but she didn’t open her eyes again until a phone rang, shattering her dream state. The phone fell silent in answer to a man’s voice speaking Italian. Her lashes lifted then and she stared at Cesare while he paced the floor, mobile phone clamped to his ear. He still wore his boxers and his state of arousal was blindingly obvious. An almost painful tide of colour burned her face.
He tossed the phone down by the bed. ‘Do you want the shower first?’
That prosaic question made Lizzie frantically pull the edges of the shirt she wore closed and she sat up in an agony of discomfiture. ‘I’ll go back to my own room.’
As she scrambled out of bed and reached for Archie, Cesare murmured without any expression at all, ‘We made a mistake and we won’t repeat it.’
Clutching Archie in an awkward hold, Lizzie attempted to pick up her discarded clothing one-handed. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ she prompted shakily.
‘It was just sex...nothing worth fussing over,’ Cesare opined in a tone that was as cold as a winter shower on her overheated skin. ‘Look, I’ll see you downstairs in an hour. I have some papers you have to sign before I leave.’
‘You’re going away again?’ she asked in surprise, fighting the roar of temper rising from a secret place deep down inside her.
‘We have forty-eight hours to go before the wedding and I intend to use it,’ he advanced calmly, deep-set dark eyes hooded, wide, sensual mouth clenched hard.
Just sex...nothing worth fussing over? Lizzie mulled that putdown over while she showered. She wasn’t hurt by his dismissal, of course she wasn’t. A mistake that would not be repeated. Didn’t she feel the same way as he did? What had happened shouldn’t have happened. It was much more sensible if they stayed uninvolved and detached. So, if he had left her feeling a little crushed and foolish, it was her own fault for acting like an idiot and inviting such a denouement. If she couldn’t quite shake off the sense of intimacy he had imbued her with, it was only because she had been more intimate with him than she had ever been with anyone else but that was a secret not for sharing...
CHAPTER FIVE
LIZZIE FASTENED THE cropped trousers and straightened the lilac cashmere sweater she wore with it. Her feet shod in flat ballerina pumps, her face lightly made up, she bore not the smallest resembla
nce to the woman she had been a mere week earlier.
Of course she was now in possession of a vast wardrobe and owned a choice of outfits for every conceivable occasion. Most probably many of the garments would never be worn because she could not imagine Cesare taking her sailing or out to dinner or indeed to the kind of dressy venue where she would require a full-length gown. The wardrobe was totally wasteful in its size and probable expense but she had already learned that once Cesare had instructed his underlings that she was to be dressed from head to toe in designer fashion, his orders were carried out without question.
A pity she was a little more rebellious in that line, Lizzie acknowledged wryly. A lifetime of counting the pennies meant that extravagance made her feel guilty. Breakfast in bed made her feel even guiltier although, to be honest, any excuse to escape the ghastly prospect of having to breakfast alone with Cesare had been extremely welcome.
After all, she had made a huge fool of herself the night before, hadn’t she?
Lizzie inwardly cringed, colour marking her cheeks afresh. It would be a very long time, if ever, before she contrived to forget how she had writhed in ecstasy in Cesare’s bed. But mercifully, they hadn’t actually got as far as having full sex, she reminded herself bracingly, and she assumed that that reality would make it a little easier for her to reinstate normal boundaries between them. She was no natural wanton, never had been, had simply let alcohol, curiosity and temptation steer her briefly in the wrong direction. She wasn’t like her mother either because she was not prone to sudden blinding infatuations. For years, there had been no other man for her but Andrew, a reality that had made the slow death of their relationship all the more painful to endure because it had started out with such high hopes.
It offended her sense of decency, however, that the intimacy she had shrunk from exploring with Andrew, whom she had loved, could be so very tempting when offered by a male like Cesare Sabatino, who had no respect for her at all. Cesare didn’t give two hoots what happened to her or how she felt about any issue. Cesare merely wanted to use her to regain the island of Lionos and he thought that paying her richly for the privilege should take care of any doubts she might have.
‘Mr Sabatino is in the office at the end of the corridor,’ Primo informed her as she reached the foot of the grand staircase.
Almost sick with self-consciousness, Lizzie found the door ajar and walked in without knocking. Cesare’s arrogant dark head flew up from his laptop, subdued fire flaring in his dark, glittering eyes at the interruption until he realised who his visitor was. A well-bred smile lightened his darkly handsome features and curved his hard mouth as he leapt upright, his attention automatically pinning to the lissom curves revealed by the casually elegant outfit she wore. In startling comparison a pink and white X-rated image of Lizzie splayed across his bed erupted at the back of Cesare’s mind and he ground his teeth together as his body leapt in response to the provocation. Not for the first time he regretted the interruption that had left him burning with sexual frustration.
When he had last called Celine, he had grasped that he had a problem he had not foreseen. Aware that he was getting married, his French lover no longer wished to be seen in his company. Celine guarded her reputation because the clients who paid her a small fortune to advertise their exclusive perfume were conservative and Cesare had perfectly understood her determination to put her career first. It was, nonetheless, a challenge for him to work out how he was to cope for the next few months being married and not married at the same time.
He had not gone without sex for more than a couple of weeks since he was a teenager. Was he now supposed to sneak around seeking a discreet outlet? Without a doubt, he would have to avoid being seen consorting with any woman other than his wife or their marriage would appear dubious and, after going to such lengths to bring about the marriage, that was not a risk he was prepared to take. Whether he liked it or not and whether anything came of it or not, Lizzie was his only option for the foreseeable future, he acknowledged grudgingly.
‘You look terrific, cara,’ Cesare told Lizzie truthfully, politely tugging out a chair for her to use. The jasmine scent of her perfume flared his nostrils and before he could suppress the memory he recalled the wild, hot sweetness of her response. No man could easily forget that kind of passion, he reasoned, exasperated by his stubborn libido and the effect those turbulent hormones had on his usually cool intellect.
‘Thanks but it’s all fancy packaging, not really me,’ Lizzie parried uncomfortably, because he was towering over her and close enough that she could smell the citrusy cologne that overlaid the erotic undertones of clean, warm male. Her colour fluctuating, she sat very straight-backed in her seat.
‘Learn how to accept a compliment gracefully,’ Cesare advised softly. ‘You have a great figure, gorgeous hair and a beautiful face. Clothes merely provide an effective frame for the looks that nature gave you.’
Lizzie dealt him a pained half-smile. Unlike her, he was a master of the ready word and the right thing to say and had probably never been stuck for a quote in his entire gilded life. She evaded his shrewd gaze because she felt vulnerable, almost naked in his presence, stripped as she was of her usual working clothing and countryside assurance because his privileged world was so foreign to hers. She loved the way good clothes that fitted perfectly made her feel, but she wondered if he would still want her without that superficial gloss, a thought that made her feel inadequate and a little pathetic. In short, the spectacular luxury of his home, the costly garments and the preponderance of staff made Lizzie feel out of her depth and drowning. All she had required to crown her discomfiture was that ill-judged sexual episode that morning. ‘I want you to sign these documents.’ Evidently impervious to the unease afflicting Lizzie, Cesare extended a slim sheaf of papers. ‘I need your permission to make alterations to the villa on Lionos.’
Her brow furrowed in surprise. ‘Alterations? But you haven’t even seen the house yet.’
‘Because we won’t be married until Friday,’ Cesare pointed out drily. ‘While we’re on our honeymoon in Italy, my grandmother will be having her surgery and recuperating. As soon as she is strong enough we will fly out to Lionos and stay in the villa with her.’
‘I didn’t realise we were having a honeymoon.’
‘It will only be a honeymoon in the eyes of the outside world,’ Cesare qualified wryly.
