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‘Who?’ Dante frowned, and then he saw that her neck was not just red but mottled and he could almosttasteher jealousy. It was such an unexpected turn-on to see the cool and collected Mia anything but that he smiled as realisation hit.
‘That’s the minister’s daughter; she’s not my date.’
‘You’re flirting with her.’
‘God, no,’ Dante said.
‘You werelaughingwith her.’
‘I was trying to keep things light,’ Dante admitted. He laughed a false laugh, the one he must have used, and for some reason it made her giggle. ‘She always tries to flirt with me; it is the same every year, though usually I have a date. She is thoroughly over-excited tonight because I appear to be alone. But I am not alone,’ Dante said, and as he stepped closer to Mia her smile faded. ‘Am I?’
Mia swallowed, before answering. ‘No.’
‘Who am I here with tonight, Mia?’ he provoked in a low sexy drawl that demanded she answer.
‘Me.’
‘Pardon?’ he said.
Her voice was husky. ‘You’re here with me.’
‘Yes,’ Dante said, ‘and never forget it. I dance my duty dances, but the only one I want to dance with is you. Know this, Mia—every year that you come to the Romano ball, I will come alone.’
And with those words, Dante moved his own goalposts.
He had sworn only one more night, but the thought of meeting each year at this event was tempting indeed. It might be for only one night, once a year, yet it was more of a commitment than Dante had ever made to anyone before.
The thought of them never quite ending was tempting indeed.
He stepped closer still and her world shrank further; even the sounds from the ball faded to nothing, for she could hear her own pulse in her ears.
‘You got the earrings, I see,’ Dante said, as his finger lightly touched one sparking jewel.
‘Thank you,’ she said, but her voice came out high, as if owned by a teenage boy, for his hand was warm on her neck. ‘Should I leave them in the suite’s safe or...?’
‘They’re yours,’ Dante said. ‘From me.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Dante, please don’t buy me gifts.’
‘But I want to,’ Dante said silkily.
‘We should go back in,’ Mia attempted, becausenowthings were dangerous. Now, finally alone, there was nowhere to hide the lust that thrummed between them. She shivered, though not from the cold. It was because his hand trailed from her neck, down her bare arm and then to the curve of her waist. The feel of his palm caused sensation to pool at her centre, and the slight dig of his fingers made her sex clench.
‘Did you know,’ Dante said, and his voice felt like a lick to her ear, ‘that this hotel is named after the old Duke’s mistress?’
‘I didn’t know,’ Mia responded, and her eyes met his. They glittered with ire—was Dante inviting her to be his mistress?
Or was it desire? For she was so exquisitely turned on now it was as if they danced alone.
‘It is said,’ Dante continued, his breath on her cheek, ‘that the Duke and Duchess were to host a private dinner for the Principe and Principessa in this verydimora...’ He registered her frown at the unfamiliar word. ‘Mansion,’ he translated. ‘But instead of being here to greet his esteemed guests, the Duke was, yet again, visiting Fiordelise, and so was, yet again, inexcusably late. Always he was late, and so it was decided that Fiordelise would have her own suite next to his...’ She knew he could not kiss her and ruin her make up, but his mouth was so close that it almost felt as if he were. ‘The Duke was never late again.’
She had to fight her own lips for they wanted to stretch to meet his. ‘We can’t do this, Dante.’
‘Why not?’ Dante asked, as his hand slid around to the small of her back. ‘I have to have you, Mia.’ She recalled how that night his hand had felt like a balm as he’d pushed into her, and possibly he was thinking the same thing for now he pressed against her and her hips fought not to press back.
