Chapter Nine #2
To that end, she chose an outfit that was the polar opposite of dull.
The slinky minidress was a dark blue in colour and fitted her body like a glove.
She teamed it with a pair of ankle boots and a faux-fur jacket, styled her hair in loose, voluminous waves, and followed yet another online tutorial to do her make-up.
Her lips she painted a deep cherry red, then stood back to admire the sultry effect, with the hint of a smile.
She emerged from her room at the same time he strode into the luxurious penthouse, wearing a dark navy suit and crisp white shirt.
He didn’t see her at first, so she had the opportunity to let her eyes soak him in, reacting privately to how absolutely gorgeous he was, before his gaze lifted and flicked across the room, landing on her with a palpable thud.
Her lips parted—she couldn’t help it. Breath escaped her lungs in a whoosh. She fidgeted with her engagement ring, standing right where she was.
He turned, changed direction, began striding towards her. ‘Signora Moretti,’ he murmured, eyes scanning her face.
She fought the temptation to bite into her lip, to keep fidgeting. But she was nervous. This was such a different look for her, and she realised then it wasn’t just for the benefit of the women they might meet at restaurants. This was about her husband, just as much. About wanting him to approve.
But he simply quirked a brow, as if waiting for her to speak.
She didn’t. She couldn’t. Her mouth felt completely dry.
‘Are you ready to go?’
Her stomach dropped to her toes, her eyes followed, landing on the floor between them. ‘Sure,’ she managed to croak out, ignoring the wave of disappointment, and not letting it take over. ‘I’m starving.’
Then his hands shifted to her hips, holding her through the slinky material of her dress.
‘That makes two of us.’ Except when she glanced into his eyes, she blushed to the roots of her hair, because it didn’t feel as though he was talking about food.
She had no experience to explain why she felt that, it was simply an instinct.
But pleasure exploded through her and heat began to build in her chest.
‘Then we’d better go.’
Neither of them moved. His eyes held hers and then, slowly, his hand lifted, to curve around her cheek. ‘Are you better?’
She blinked at him, not understanding.
‘Last night. You were exhausted.’
‘Oh, right,’ she murmured. She’d been ruminating on the women she’d overheard, the facets to the man she’d married. She’d wanted space. She’d also really, really wanted him.
‘Yeah.’ She nodded unevenly. ‘I’m all good.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Then he dropped his hand to hers and laced their fingers together. ‘Let’s go.’
It was yet another incredible restaurant filled with Europe’s elite.
Wealthy, well-heeled people who made no effort to hide their interest in Massimiliano’s new bride.
She felt the surreptitious and not-so-surreptitious attention of the room on her for the entire meal, despite the fact their booth was on the wall at the back of the restaurant.
Despite the fact that her husband had spent the night in a skilful, slow seduction that had wound her up almost to breaking point.
His every touch, every glance, had sparked something inside her, so when he suggested dessert, she wanted to scream ‘no’.
All she could fantasise about was going home and dragging him to bed.
Not for another lesson, either, but for the whole kit and caboodle.
She wanted him. Sex. She needed that more than she could say.
‘Have you ever had maritozzi Amelia?’
His voice was deep, raw. She shook her head, not sure if she could speak. He signalled to the waiter for some to be brought, then topped up Amelia’s champagne.
‘You look very beautiful tonight.’
Her heart turned over in her chest. Pleasure was a mushrooming cloud. ‘Thank you.’
His lips twisted in a half-smile.
‘How was work?’
‘Satisfying.’
She arched a brow at that. ‘You like what you do.’
‘I enjoy doing it well.’
It was a fine distinction, but one she appreciated.
‘Were you always this driven?’
‘I imagine so. I never needed to be until my father’s scam was exposed.’
She winced. ‘It must have been mortifying for you.’
‘Yes.’
She appreciated his candour, the fact he didn’t try to downplay it.
‘So, is this working?’ she asked, looking around the restaurant. To her surprise, it had thinned out, so only a third or so of the tables were now occupied.
‘This?’
‘Our marriage. Are you suddenly accepted again?’
His laugh was low and husky, and he didn’t answer right away, because the waiter appeared carrying their desserts. Little buns filled with cream, and two dark coffees.
‘To stave off exhaustion,’ he murmured as the coffees were placed before them.
Heat flushed her cheeks as her mushrooming warmth turned into a solar flare.
She reached instead for her champagne and took a sip, then kept her eyes on him.
Beneath the tablecloth-covered table, his knee brushed hers and a jolt ran the length of her spine.
But it was nothing compared to the complete overwhelm of feeling that ran through her when his hand curved over her knee.
Her eyes flared, but held his.
‘I’m playing the long game,’ he murmured. ‘Uniting our two families is an important step, but it will take time for the sins of my father to be erased.’
‘It’s been a long time already, hasn’t it?’
He dipped his head in agreement as his hand began to creep higher up her bare leg. She sucked in a breath.
‘I have never shown any interest in mending the damage he caused, beyond making financial recompense. For my part, I do not care what these people think. Were it not for my grandfather,’ he said, lifting one shoulder as his hand crept higher still, ‘I still wouldn’t.’
‘Massimiliano,’ she whispered, with urgency, grateful that his much larger frame was on the outside edge of the booth, so when he angled himself fully towards her, resting his elbow on the table, he created a sort of screen from the restaurant.
‘But yes, cara. Already I have congratulatory phone calls from the sort of people who would not even speak my name twelve months ago.’
‘I don’t understand why it had to be me,’ she said, finding it almost impossible to concentrate when his finger crept to within an inch of the very top of her thighs and began to draw invisible figures of eight.
‘Your family is powerful.’
‘But there are many other families…’
‘The Rossis are ancient. Your grandparents respected and revered. This matters.’
‘I just don’t understand,’ she said, eyes growing hooded as the way his finger was moving became almost hypnotic. He was casting a spell and she was falling under it.
‘Yet you agreed to marry me.’
‘You’re paying me a lot,’ she pointed out.
His eyes roamed her face. ‘It’s worth it.’
‘But—’ She bit down on her lip as memories of the women in the bathroom haunted her. ‘You’re the man everyone wants.’
He laughed at that, but it was a deep-throated, cynical laugh. ‘Is that so?’
‘I have it on good authority.’
‘Whose authority would that be?’
She suddenly regretted that she’d started this conversation.
‘Contessina?’
She shook her head a little. ‘I met your assistant today. She showed me how everything works in your penthouse. How to get security and a driver, that kind of thing. She’s also organising an Italian tutor for me.
I decided I should learn how to speak the language, you know, if I’m going to be living here.
’ She was babbling. An effect of his intimate touch, his proximity, and the fact she felt weirdly embarrassed about what she’d overheard the night before, and wished she hadn’t brought it up.
His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m aware of that, but I find it hard to believe she would discuss my personal life.’
Amelia closed her eyes. He was like a dog with a bone. A very sexy, desirable dog. Beast. Something. ‘She didn’t.’
He moved then, using his other hand to take one of the petite cream buns, looking at it for a moment before lifting it towards her lips. She glanced up at him, then back at the confectionery as he pressed it to her mouth. ‘Taste it,’ he murmured.
Heat sparked in her chest but she did as he said, opening her mouth for a bite. It was so sweet, light, fluffy and delicious. She moaned her appreciation. His eyes held hers approvingly.
‘Who have you been talking to?’
‘No one,’ she said. ‘I just…overheard some women.’
His eyes scanned her face thoughtfully and then he leaned closer. ‘Last night, during dinner.’
She dropped her gaze, nodding once.
‘And what did they say?’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘That you could have anyone you wanted, basically.’
‘I see.’
He reached for the cream bun once more, hovering it against her lips.
This time, she bit without being prompted.
But as her mouth closed over it, his finger slipped downwards, between her legs, easily navigating the fabric of her minidress and connecting with the lace of her briefs.
She gasped, the sensation of the delicious dessert combined with the sheer sensuality of his touch making her see stars already.
‘In bed, perhaps. But not the calibre of bride I needed for this to work. And not in the timeline required.’
He’d said something like that in London. That he needed this to be quick, and he needed someone he could essentially bribe into fitting the role.
‘But surely one of those women—’ She broke off as his finger easily pushed past her briefs and then pressed inside her, making her cry out. He smothered the noise with a swift, hard kiss.
‘Massimiliano, someone will see. Take a photo…’
‘No, they won’t. No one can see you here, cara. No one can see past me. Relax.’
But she wasn’t relaxed. Every shift of his finger stirred her to a point of intense awareness and need, so beneath the floor-length tablecloth, her fingers gripped his thigh hard, as if that could help her keep a grip on her sanity.
‘There is no one from my past that would have been right for this. No one I could marry, without there being an answering expectation of intimacy. Affection. I am not interested in either of these things.’
Her eyes pinged open as her heart did a strange lurch. ‘Present situation excluded?’
‘This is part of our deal,’ he reminded her, moving his finger faster then, deeper, so her hips writhed against him. ‘We are both aware of the temporary nature of what we’re doing.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, but it wasn’t really in response to his statement, so much as the way his touch was sending arrows of flame and fire through her body.
He leaned down, whispering in her ear, ‘When we get home, I’m going to strip you naked and kiss you all over. Starting here.’ And then she was tumbling over the edge of the earth, into a deep abyss of light and warmth, the soft sound of her orgasm swallowed by the white-hot heat of his kiss.
He had not done anything quite so reckless in a long time.
Probably since his early twenties, when the first heady years of his success had kicked into gear, stress of his father’s crimes fading just enough to allow Massimiliano to enjoy the riches he’d earned.
The women that fell into his lap because of them.
Then, he’d been careless often. Truly careless. He hadn’t cared about his own reputation, much less theirs. But Amelia wasn’t just some vain socialite he’d picked up in a bar. She was his wife, ostensibly the woman he loved. She was also a virgin.
Making her climax in the back of a restaurant shouldn’t have been part of it.
Cristo. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
He’d wanted her since the afternoon before.
He’d wanted her all last night, during dinner, and beyond, when he’d gone to his own bed.
And hell, he’d wanted her throughout the day, too, thinking of her when he should have been focusing on something else.
Remembering the way she’d responded to him, the innocent, artless way she’d simply reacted to her first encounter of sex and sexual awakening.
It had been a long time since he’d been with someone inexperienced, since he’d seen sex as she must. Since he’d remembered the surprise of knowing your body to be someone else’s to command—and be commanded by.
As his car slipped through the streets of Rome, and his eyes glanced across the familiar landmarks, it was a sense of unfamiliarity that clawed through him.
A feeling that marriage to Amelia, while practical and sensible, also had the potential to get out of hand, if he let it.
Which he wouldn’t, of course. He was Massimiliano Moretti.
He’d built an empire from the crumbling ruins of their family’s fortune, and he would never let anyone or anything derail his focus.
Particularly not some young British woman he’d been required to marry.