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How had he ever thought she was unassuming? She was stunning.
He could see her engagement ring from here, the brilliant flash of ice-white, and he pushed down the tightness in his chest. That same sense of protectiveness and possessiveness he’d felt earlier outside the jewellers hit him again, and he pushed that down too. It was nothing. It was the thrill of anticipated triumph over the deal that would finally take him away from that moment on the streets in Rome, when his own peers had seen him shabby and feral. Reduced to nothing.
Her eyes met his and he went forward to meet her.
* * *
Darcy saw Max almost as soon as she stopped in the doorway. Of course she did. He stood head and shoulders above most of the crowd. He was wearing a classic black tuxedo and she felt as if someone had hit her right between the eyes.
He’d made some effort to tidy his hair and it was swept back from his face now, dark blond and luxurious, but still with that trademark unruly length. And she could see from here that his jaw was clean-shaven.
In truth, she’d been glad of a little space from Max for the rest of the day—especially now she knew she’d be heading back to his apartment with him that night. She wasn’t ready for that at all.
He was cutting a swathe through the crowd, heading straight for her, and—damn it—her breath was short again.
When he got to her he just looked at her for a long moment before slipping a hand across her bare shoulder and around the back of her neck. Her skin sizzled as his head came closer and his mouth—that perfect sensual mouth that rarely smiled—closed over hers.
She wanted to protest—Stop kissing me!—even as she knew he was only doing it for the benefit of their audience. But the fact was that every time he kissed her another little piece of her defences around him fell away.
There was nothing but blinding white heat for a second, as the firm contours of Max’s mouth moved enticingly over hers, and then a rush of heat swelled all the way up her body from the pulse between her legs.
When he took his mouth away and pulled back she was dizzy, hot. It had been mere seconds. A chaste kiss on the mouth.
Max still had a hand around her neck. He was so close she could smell him, feel his heat around her. It was as if he was cocooning her slightly from the crowd and Darcy was reminded of the shock and vulnerability she’d felt in front of those paparazzi.
She pulled away from him.
‘You look...beautiful.’
‘You don’t have to say that.’
Darcy felt exceedingly self-conscious in the dress the stylist had picked out for her to wear tonight. She glanced up at him from her eyeline, which was roughly around the centre of his chest—she’d been avoiding his gaze till now and his jaw was tight.
‘It’s not a line, Darcy, I mean it. You look...stunning.’
‘I...’ She couldn’t speak. No man had ever complimented her like this before. She’d never felt beautiful before. But for a second, now, she did.
Max took her hand and led her into the throng, stopping to take the glass of champagne offered by a waiter before handing it to Darcy. She took a gulp, glad of the sustenance, aware of the interested looks they were getting—or rather that she was getting.
She hated the prickling feeling of being under scrutiny. The crowd in the ballroom of the exclusive Rome hotel was seriously intimidating. This was A-list territory. Actually, this made the A-list look like the B-list. She’d just spotted a European royal and an ex-American president talking together in a corner.
In a bid not to appear nervous, Darcy asked, ‘So, what charity is benefiting from this function?’
Max glanced down at her. ‘Numerous charities—I’ve nominated one I run with my brother.’
Darcy looked at Max, wondering again about his relationship with his brother, but she found herself distracted by his clean-shaven jaw and the white line of his scar that gave her a small jolt every time she saw it.
Just then a gong sounded and the crowd started to move into another room.
Max explained, with a cynical tinge to his voice, ‘They’ll get the charity auction and the posturing out of the way now, so that they can get on with the really important stuff.’
Max let go of her hand so she could sit down, and Darcy smiled politely at the man next to her. When Max took the seat next to hers she said, ‘You mean the wheeling and dealin
g? The real reason why people are here?’
He looked at her approvingly. ‘I’ll make a proper cynic of you yet.’
Darcy felt a little hollow. She didn’t need Max to make her a cynic. Her parents’ spectacular break-up had gone a long way to that end already. Not to mention this pseudo-engagement.
