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No woman had ever given me such a gift. And, while I hadn’t asked for it, and did not intend to acknowledge it, I felt a strange sense of responsibility towards her because of it.
This liaison wouldn’t last. I would soon grow bored and restless, as I always did, and she would eventually discover I was a dangerous man to become too attached to. Luckily Edie was a smart, intuitive woman, however inexperienced, and she would soon figure out the truth about me, if she hadn’t already.
But as I stood under the shower myself and took my erection in hand to give myself some necessary relief, I made Edie one promise. Whatever happened, I would endeavour to make this liaison as fun and pleasurable for her as it was for me.
Given my appetite for her—and the intensity of our sexual chemistry—I was liable to make a lot of demands in the next days as we enjoyed each other. But I would be careful to gauge her reaction and make sure that I never asked too much. I would take nothing for granted and I would also attempt to smooth out at least a few of my rough edges. And, most importantly of all, I would let her down gently when this liaison reached its inevitable conclusion. Because, however bold and brave and intelligent Edie was, she was still entirely new to this—and she certainly hadn’t picked the most tender, or refined, or gentle of men to initiate her.
And, if nothing else, I didn’t want her to ever regret that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I STOOD ON the balcony of Dante’s suite, watching the guests mingle below me in the torchlit gardens in their designer ball gowns and tuxedos—like exotic peacocks displaying their wealth and status in the summer night. Cordon bleu canapés and vintage champagne were being served on sterling silver platters, and I could hear the strains of the orchestra in the ballroom below me playing the opening bars of a Viennese waltz for those people elegant enough, or merry enough, to brave the dance floor.
The night was perfect, and a little surreal, and I was a part of it. An essential part of it.
Nerves and excitement tangled in the pit of my stomach, going some way to alleviate the bubble of regret that had been lodged in my throat all day.
I’d had such an amazing time in the last five days, ever since Dante and I had started sleeping together. The sex had been... Well, nothing short of a revelation. I’d never felt more alive or present, more hungry and yet sated all at the same time. Dante had kept to his word, and been absolutely incredible—making me feel both cherished and desired, while also keeping a clear separation between my work responsibilities and the things we did after hours. Despite agreeing to allow our affair to become public knowledge, I had
been unbearably nervous that first day. Surely the other team members would resent my involvement with Dante, would judge me for it. And in some ways I’d been prepared for it, had even understood it.
But no such problems had arisen. If anything, most of the team had found it amusing and kind of sweet. Collette had even whispered to me that first day, while she was supervising having my belongings moved to Dante’s quarters, ‘You are good for him. He has been much less of a taskmaster this week than usual.’
I knew she was joking. Dante wasn’t a taskmaster at all; he was focused, yes, and he had high expectations which he expected to be met by every one of his employees. But he was also fair and very good at communicating those expectations, so there was no confusion.
But still, I had basked in Collette’s approval and laughed with Jenny Caldwell, the middle-aged woman who ran his accounts department, when she had winked at me after Dante had grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the office when last night’s final briefing had finished.
Of course, the attitude of the staff had had a lot to do with how Dante had handled the whole situation. Not only had he been forthright and pragmatic about our ‘arrangement’, but he’d also made a point of showing me no favouritism within the team. He’d been equally frank with the guests—making a point of treating me with respect in front of them, but also making no bones about claiming me as his during the leisure time we had together, when he never missed an opportunity to touch me or caress me.
And he simply hadn’t given me a chance to be ashamed of how much I enjoyed his attentiveness.
There had only been one small moment of unpleasantness, with a woman called Elise Durand, the CEO of a large French hospitality firm, who had approached me yesterday. In the few interactions I had had with the woman at the poker table, my assessment of her business acumen and her approach to risk had been favourable and I knew she was one of the front runners for investor status. It was quite possible Dante and his two top financiers were offering her a stake in the new expansion right now. A chill ran up my spine as I recalled what she had said to me the night before, as I was rushing through the gardens, already anticipating the rendezvous at our private cove which I had arranged with Dante for a late-night swim.
‘You remind me a great deal of your mother, Edie. She also had a taste for powerful men and knew how to use it to her best advantage.’
I watched the moon glow over the bay, the lights of Villefranche in the distance twinkling, and forced myself to ignore the feeling of inadequacy that had assailed me. How stupid, to let something so innocuous ruin my happy buzz. It had been a throwaway comment, which I had taken far too much to heart, because I was over-sensitive about my mother’s reputation.
I hadn’t mentioned the comment to Dante. Or anyone else. Because I didn’t want to appear unprofessional, and I certainly didn’t want to prejudice Dante’s decision about whom he invited to invest in his company because of our fling and my own insecurities.
The bubble of regret expanded another inch.
The fling that was going to end tonight.
I swallowed, trying not to let the feeling of ennui—of sadness—get the better of me. I’d always known this would be a few days of bliss. Dante hadn’t promised more than a quick fling and I hadn’t asked him for more. Which was for the best, I now realised. Because, even after only five days as his lover, I knew I was sinking too deep into this relationship. Wanting things from it that I knew I could never have.
Already, I was consumed with anticipation every time I saw him. I reacted with complete abandon to even the slightest show of affection or attention from him. And I had become utterly addicted to his lovemaking.
A blush warmed my cheeks despite the sea breeze, as I recalled the shameless way I had responded the night before. To be fair, that wasn’t entirely my fault, I added to myself. Dante, I had discovered, could be an absolute devil.
Last night, on the beach, almost as if he had sensed my loss of confidence after my encounter with Elise, he had worked me into a frenzy of need and longing, until all I could focus on, and all I could think about, was him.
Using his tongue and his teeth in ways he already knew would drive me wild, he had given me mini-orgasm after mini-orgasm without ever giving me enough relief to completely satisfy me. Eventually I had been a quivering bundle of raw nerves and desperate needs. I had cried myself hoarse, literally begging him to thrust deep enough and hard enough to release me from the sensual torture—and, when he finally had, the orgasm had been so powerful I was pretty sure I had actually passed out.
But it was the way he had washed me so tenderly afterwards, and insisted on carrying me back through the gardens and all the way into our suite of rooms, that had all but destroyed me.
I’d fallen into a deep sleep—the dreams of belonging, of safety and security all the more devastating when I had woken this morning with his strong body wrapped around me and he’d made love to me again with a ruthless tenderness which I had convinced myself for one bright shining moment meant much more than it did.
I heard the outer door to our suite open and Dante’s footsteps on the carpeting.
