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“That makes sense. Of course, all of this has already been decided.”
“By myself,” he said. “An arrangement I made with an American businessman many years ago.”
“I see. Well...” She knew she had a decision to make. She could feel sad that none of this was about her. That it wasn’t about her birthday or her dress. That he was going to marry another woman. Or she could recognize the opportunity she’d been given for what it was, and grab hold of it.
“I’ll take the job.”
He smiled, and her heart leapt. She was a fool for him, and now she was about to be around him even more often than she already was.
“I didn’t think you would ever refuse.”
Oh, yes, she had been disappointed by Matteo while wearing a red dress before. And she could recall his confidence then, that she would simply go along with what he wanted. That she would comply with his commands.
She wanted to think she wasn’t half so foolish now. Wanted to think that she had him completely and totally nailed down, and because of that, that there was no mystique left to him; and if there was no mystique left to him, he could no longer hurt her. But here she was, in a red dress, because he’d commanded it. With ferocity, she opened the door to the bathroom and walked out into the seating area of the hotel room, feeling defiant.
“Do I meet with your approval, Your Majesty?”
But there was something in his eyes then, entirely different than that night in the garden, that night when he’d asked her to become his assistant. There was heat there, and she felt an answering longing unfurl in her stomach. Of course, longing after Matteo was nothing new.
He kissed me.
Something shimmered low inside of her, that glitter that she would like to think had faded away years ago. But it hadn’t. And this time it was different, because this time he’d kissed her. At least this time he was actually asking her to be his wife. It was just...
She wasn’t that desperate street urchin anymore, and she didn’t like to be made to feel like her. She didn’t like remembering how weak he could make her. She wanted him; but he was a man who didn’t love.
“Shall we go to dinner, querida?”
He had never called her that before.
“Don’t call me that.”
“It is, I think, an elevated term.”
She shook her head. “Call me Mouse. That’s what I am to you.”
“Don’t you think we should move on to something more intimate?”
“I don’t. I don’t, because at least Mouse is honest. It’s how you see me. It’s what I am to you. A tiny creature you think you can put in your pocket and keep with you at all times. That’s what you think I am. I’m not your beloved. All those blonde amazons you prance around with, they’re beloved. For a night or two. I would have you be honest with me, at least. If you manipulate me, I’ll know.”
“And what?”
Ferocity boiled over inside of her. “I’ll bite you. At the very least.”
He took a step toward her, his dark eyes blazing with intent. “And what if I told you, Mouse, that I would not mind so terribly being bitten?”
“Don’t tempt me, Matteo,” she said, doing her best to raise her eyes and meet his.
Staring into those obsidian eyes now, she asked herself when that girlish love inside of her had heated to such an intensity, only to be cooled in such a way that it turned it into a hard obsidian.
Oh, it was still there. She couldn’t deny her feelings for him. No matter that she knew better, it was just that she had learned to protect herself. It was the years as his personal assistant.
They had been instructive about the manner of man he was. He could put on a smile with the best of them—Livia had been the one to teach him to do so—but he was not truly a civilized man, and she knew it. She’d seen it. He smiled at all those women who passed through his life, passed through his bed, but it never reached his eyes. He was missing a heart, where other men had one. And she would do well to remember that.
“Come on, Mouse,” he said, putting emphasis on the name. “Let us go to dinner.”
