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“I think,” he murmured, “we should dance.”
A look he couldn’t read moved across her face. “I’m fine,” she said quickly. “We’re pretty much finished now anyway, aren’t we? Always best to end these things on a high note.”
“You have smoke coming out of your ears. One dance,” he insisted, “and then we will go. Also,” he added helpfully, nodding at a point over her shoulder, “Beryl Morgan is on her way over.” One of Milan’s most outrageous gossip bloggers, she was known for her vicious virtual red pen. “Unless you’d like to give her the unadulterated scoop.”
Jensen’s face telegraphed her horror at the prospect. She followed him onto the dance floor then, taking the hand he extended, a slight flush lighting her high cheekbones as he pulled her closer before placing his other hand at the small of her back, his palm absorbing the warmth of her bare, silky skin revealed by the daring dress. It was even softer than he could have imagined. Lacing his fingers through hers, he pulled her a step closer, until the scent of her delicate floral perfume infiltrated his senses.
It was still a very respectable hold. But with that innate chemistry between them crackling to life and sensitizing every one of his nerve endings, they might as well have been cheek to cheek in the way that she affected him.Vastly. Completely.
His heartbeat quickened in his chest, his blood sliding through his veins on a heady pull, his every sense attuned to her. He was fairly sure she felt it, too, from the way her breath caught in her throat, the way she seemed to focus everywhere but on him, staring at the lapel of his jacket for long moments, before she finally looked up at him. And then there was no mistaking the heat that smoldered between them, the flames in her dark eyes spilling out and licking across his skin.
“I’m sorry,” she said, in what seemed like a valiant effort to deflect from it, “about your grandmother. I just get so frustrated when people have these preconceived notions about me.”
“Preconceived?” He arched a dark brow at her. “You do stoke the flames, you have to admit. Give her some time,” he advised. “Do the job I know you can do with the anniversary party. She will come around.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, a battle going on in those luminous ebony eyes of hers. He sought to explain, to calm the turbulence emanating from her. “All she sees are the publicity stunts your family engages in. The headlines surrounding the events your mother puts on, which Marcella then interprets as a less-than-altruistic cause.”
“Which might be absolutely true,” she agreed, her beautiful face expressive. “She does do sensational things for the media coverage. For thebuzz. But there is also good in what she does. She has always been a keen supporter of the community. Those causes she supportsmeansomething to her. She puts an incredible amount of work into them. As much as Marcella does. Yet look at how she is treated.”
Loyalty, he registered. Another facet of her he was discovering. That same loyalty she’d displayed toward his brand, that he hadn’t been fully aware of. Her refusal, even now, to criticize her mother, who according to those who knew Veronica Davis was a master strategist, moving her daughters around like chess pieces.
“No doubt,” he conceded softly, “she does good work. My grandmother was harsh. She can be that way. She only sees one right way of doing things, and that is based in propriety—what she’s been schooled in. It was not, however, fair of her to pass judgment on your family in that way. I apologize for her behavior.”
She was silent, whatever was going on behind those darks eyes still festering. He tightened his fingers around hers.“Che cosa?”he murmured. What?“Talk to me.”
“That’s the way I used to be,” she admitted. “I used to ‘stoke the flames.’ Be as outrageous as I could possibly be, because that worked for me. It got me the attention I was looking for. It got me star status on the show. But I am not that person anymore.” Her mouth twisted on a frustrated curve. “I made the decision to walk away from the show. To be someone different. But it always seems to come back to haunt me.”
“Because you are your own worst enemy,” he opined. “All my grandmother sees, all theworldsees, is a vision of you, without your clothes, frolicking in that fountain. Being outrageous for the sake of being outrageous. And,” he proposed, “where has it gotten you?”
A myriad of emotions flickered across her face. He thought for a moment she might answer, then he watched her retreat. Slide a veil over those dark eyes, and it irritated him. Perhaps because he’d seen more of her now. Enough to know she was hiding behind this public persona of herself she’d manufactured that he didn’t think had anything to do with reality. “Why,” he pushed softly, his eyes on hers, “do you do these self-destructive things to yourself?”
She sank her teeth into the plump skin of her lush lower lip. Eyed him. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “Maybe I get drawn back in sometimes, when I shouldn’t. Maybe I make bad decisions in the moment, based on my history.” She hiked a shoulder. “Maybe it’s easier to be that version of myself, because that’s what people expect of me. Which I always regret after the fact.”
He absorbed the vulnerable curve of her mouth. The deep internal conflict written across her face. He didn’t understand it, because he’d never operated that way himself. He’d always learned from his mistakes and moved on as a more self-aware version of himself. But with Jensen, it was more complex. If a half real, half manufactured world was all she’d ever known, sliding back into it would be far too easy, given the right incentive. Of which there were many.
“You must recognize the folly in that,” he murmured. “It will never end. You will keep getting drawn in. It’s the nature of that world.”
“I know.” Her mouth turned down. “It was a moment of weakness. I went against my better judgment, only to have it blow up in my face.”
“So you learn from your mistake. Make better decisions next time. You know who you are, Jensen. Who you want to be. You made that decision when you walked away from the show.”
She nodded. “I know. You’re right.”
And that, he concluded from the shuttered look on her face, was all he was going to get. Which was more than what he’d been able to glean from her thus far. It should have been a red flag for him that she was far from a sure bet. That she had a tendency to fall back into old habits. That he should keep his guard up. Instead, it was her vulnerability that got to him. The bizarre urge he felt to protect her from this crazy world she’d been born into. All mixed up with an attraction he couldn’t seem to ignore. The way she moved him in a way he couldn’t seem to understand.
His hand dropped lower on her hip, the delicate scent of her perfume filling his head. He felt,heard, the quickening of her breath as his hold shifted that much closer and his breath skated across her temple. The heat of his palm sinking into the curve of her hip, her soft contours melted into him, fitting perfectly against the hard planes of his body, as if she was made for him. And then, it was only them, the noise of the buzzing crowd receding as the force of their attraction ignited.
It was becoming an almost compulsive urge to know her, to explore the chemistry between them. To harness all of that vibrancy for himself, to hell with his better instincts. Because he knew it would be like nothing else he’d ever felt. That it would light him up in a way he’d never experienced before. As irrational as it was, as unadvisable as it was, it was also undeniable.
The moment hung there, thick and uncharted, neither of them daring to break it, because it was just that powerful. Until the last notes of the music played and the spell was broken. Aware of where they were, of the eyes on them, he stepped back, reluctantly releasing Jensen from his hold.
“It’s getting late,” he said huskily, his gaze on hers. “You have to get up early for work. Let’s say good-night to the organizers and I’ll get the car.”
Jensen waited near the exit for Cristiano to collect the car, her head reeling from that moment between them on the dance floor. It had feltreal, tangible, the connection between them. Unmistakable this time. She could have sworn that had been regret in his eyes when he’d released her. That he’d been as loath to break the moment as she had. It had her insides in a tangle, her heart beating far too fast. Because if it wasreal, if there was something between them, what was she going to do about it?
Ignore it. She had promised herself she wasn’t going to do this. That she was going to focus on the job at hand and nothing more. And then Marcella had torn a strip off of her and it had all gone sideways. She’d been so stung by the Vitale matriarch’s treatment of her, had felt sohumiliated, so unfairly judged, she’d felt compelled to defend herself to Cristiano.
She’d thrown pieces of the old Jensen at him to justify her behavior. She wasn’t sure he’d completely bought it, but it had been the best she could do to steer him away from the truth about her mother. As for the intense connection they shared that seemed to build with every encounter? She blamed it on her vulnerability in the moment. Her uncertainty of what her mother would do in this manic state of hers. Maybe she’d wanted to lean on Cristiano in the midst of the storm. Take refuge. But it was his reaction to their conversation that had thrown her.
