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‘I’m on time,’ he drawled. ‘But if you’re like every other woman I know, you’ll be late.’
Poppy’s eyes narrowed. ‘For the sake of our very fake relationship I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.’
Sebastiano laughed. ‘Are you going to invite me in or are we going to conduct this conversation in the hallway?’
‘Better than the ladies’ toilets.’
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘Touché.’
He brushed past her as he entered her tiny hallway and Poppy’s eyes unconsciously drifted to the shape of his butt in the denim jeans he wore. Combined with the effect of the thick navy sweater and black boots, he looked good enough to eat. Not that she was hungry.
‘Coffee?’ she offered pleasantly.
His gaze, that had been scanning her shabby living room with laser like intent, swung back to hers. ‘Cute, but I think we should skip the refreshments. Who were you on the phone to just then?’
He asked the question as if he had every right to know and Poppy’s hackles immediately rose. It was instinctive for her to shield her brother from prying, ridiculing eyes and a deep sense of self-preservation told her that the less this man knew about her life, the better.
‘Nobody,’ she said.
‘It didn’t sound like nobody.’
Knowing he wouldn’t let up until he had the information he wanted she relented. ‘It was Simon, if you must know.’ And she wasn’t revealing any more than that.
His mouth firmed as he noted her belligerent expression but he didn’t push. ‘Are you ready to go? My plane is waiting.’
His plane was waiting?
She already felt incredibly inept standing before him in a cheap corduroy skirt, an even cheaper blouse and second-hand boots. ‘Hold up a minute, my lady’s maid is still packing my trunk.’
His lips quirked. ‘Do I sense some hostility, Miss Connolly?’
Poppy huffed out a breath. ‘Not really. More a change of heart.’
He glanced at her feet. ‘What, the trainers didn’t fit?’ He scrunched his brows together. ‘I have to confess I’m struggling to picture size-ten trainer
s on those feet. Or is it that your neighbour wasn’t happy with the apartment she was shown yesterday. Is that the problem?’
Poppy shoved her hands on her hips and glared at him. Maryann had come to her late last night in a whirlwind of excitement with news that, out of so many MS patients, she had been singled out to receive a grant to cover all her medical expenses, as well as assistance to move to a ground-floor apartment beside a park. She had kept pinching herself the whole time and didn’t know how she could have been the recipient of such good luck.
Poppy had told her that of course she deserved every ounce of that luck, and more, to which Maryann had said that Poppy’s luck was changing as well.
‘I can feel it.’ Maryann had hugged her tight. ‘It started when you got that coveted internship. You’re such a smart, wonderful girl, Poppy, and a beautiful sister to Simon.’
Poppy’s eyes had welled up and she now thought it completely heartless of Sebastiano to remind her of that part of their deal right when she was trying to figure out how to back out of it.
‘She loved it,’ she informed him with a sigh. ‘And thank you for arranging to have her put on the special list for the new drug trials. That was...thoughtful.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘But I still think this is a bad idea, Mr Castiglione.’
‘You cut a deal,’ he said with ironclad resolve. ‘And the name is Sebastiano, or Bastian. I answer to both.’
But which did he answer to in bed?
Horrified by that rogue thought, Poppy pressed her sweaty palms together. Therein lay one of the reasons this was a bad idea: she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Sebastiano all week. In particular, his impressive naked chest! It made her feel less in control to be at the whim of someone else and she didn’t like it. And she hadn’t felt like that for a long time.
Not since she’d picked herself up as a lost seventeen-year-old and decided she would never be at another person’s mercy again. And it wasn’t so much that she felt out of control right now, it was more that she felt...okay out of control. Totally out of control. And inferior, if she was being completely honest with herself. Lacking, in some way. It would take his family two seconds at most to realise she was an imposter.
