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‘I’m sure Paula is exemplary at her job.’ Then a horrible thought struck her. ‘Oh God, you didn’t tell her they were for me, did you?’
His eyes narrowed at her panic. ‘No, I didn’t tell her that. And actually I’ve never asked Paula to buy a woman clothing before so yes, I hope she did a good job.’
‘Really?’ Poppy put a hand to her chest. ‘That makes me feel so special.’ She unwrapped another, smaller parcel of tissue. This time a demi-cup bra fell out of it. Perfect.
She let a soft smile touch her lips as she dangled it in front of him, gratified when his eyes darkened. ‘And underwear. I never would have thought to pack underwear either. It’s so lucky you’re around, Mr Castiglione. What would a girl do without you?’
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he registered her sarcasm. ‘It’s Sebastiano,’ he said, frowning. ‘And I take it from your tone that you don’t approve?’
‘Smart,’ she said, dropping the offending items back in the bag and slapping her hands on her hips. ‘But I packed my own clothes and shoes and women’s things, thank you very much.’
‘Damn it, Poppy.’ He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. ‘Stop being so stubborn about this. That duffle bag of yours was half-empty.’
Affronted, Poppy glared at him. ‘My duffle bag is none of your concern.’
A low-level growl emanated from his throat as if he had reached the end of his tether. ‘Any other woman would be more than pleased with what I’m offering. No-strings-attached jewels and designer clothes. An all-expenses-paid holiday in Italy.’
‘Then ask those women to Italy.’
‘I don’t want to ask those women to Italy!’ he all but bellowed.
‘Then you’ll have to put up with me.’ She whirled around to stalk out of the room but his hands descended on her shoulders.
‘Okay, what’s wrong?’
Poppy stared up at him. The man had to ask!
‘I don’t want your designer clothes,’ she said, her temper and insecurities sparking in equal measure. ‘And as for the holiday? I have to spend time impressing people I’ve never met and pretending to be in love with a man I hardly know. I don’t know any woman who would want to do that.’
‘Unfortunately I know plenty.’
‘Like I said—invite them.’
‘You know I can’t.’
‘So says the man who makes trillion-dollar deals every day.’
He had the grace to look contrite. ‘You don’t like me very much, do you?’ His voice was low and packed with an emotion she couldn’t identify.
Poppy’s chin came up. ‘It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s more that you’re not my type.’
He looked startled for a moment. ‘You’re into women?’
Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a testament to your enormous ego that you would think the only reason I wouldn’t find you attractive is because I’m gay. But I’m not. The truth is, you’re entitled, and you have no sense of humour.’
A muscle ticked in his jaw again. ‘I have a sense of humour. It might not extend to wearing Mickey Mouse watches, but I have one.’
Poppy gaped at him, affronted. ‘What’s wrong with my watch?’
‘Nothing,’ he said levelly. ‘I just wouldn’t date a woman who wore one.’
Poppy’s lips pursed. ‘Well, you do this weekend, because I never take it off.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘It’s special to you?’
‘Very.’
‘Did Simon give it to you?’
