Italian Mavericks: Carrying The Italian's Heir. Tara Pammi
affected her, would let him know that he had power over her. Her only weapon in the face of his captivating charm and practised seduction was indifference. She had to remember this was all an act, even if they were not yet in public. It was part of his plan.
‘Maybe we should keep the act of being lovers for when we are in the company of tonight’s guests.’ She forced herself to believe those words but he paused, head bowed slightly over her hand, and raised his brows at her sharp words.
‘A man should be able to tell a woman she is beautiful wherever they are.’
There was a playful glint in his eyes and a hint of a mischievous smile. He was toying with her, amusing himself, but it reminded her of his true character. He might be about to fool the rest of the world with his intention to settle down to married life and fatherhood, but she knew the truth—and she had to remember it too.
‘Shall we go?’ She pulled her hand slowly from his and stepped away from him, needing the space to think, to put her mind back in order. She couldn’t fall for his charm—not again. Look what had happened last time the evening had started with a simple kiss of the hand and a seductive smile.
* * *
Dante smiled, pleased to know that the act of indifference she’d shown him so far since arriving in Rome was just that. Underneath all that cool composure she was still the hot, sexy woman who had driven him wild with desire. The same one who had lingered in his mind ever since, leaving him with a sense of something unfinished about the whole night.
He’d tried to tell himself it was because she’d left him without even a goodbye, slipping away before dawn, but now he suspected it was a little more than that. For the first time in many years of one-night stands and brief flings he still wanted a woman. More to the point, he wanted this woman. The need burned within him to touch her, kiss her and make her his once more.
This insistent need had only been intensified by the attention Elizabeth had given her all day. The bronze dress, alluringly diaphanous, shimmered with bronze and gold sequins which gave the fine fabric its modesty, although it clung to her body as if it had been poured over her. The swell of her breasts which, given the backless design of the dress, had to be braless, was clearly accentuated. As was her slender waist and her hips. The sexy creation hugged her hips, then flared out, but any more detail was lost on him. All he could do was think about her legs and how they had once wrapped around him as he’d thrust into her when he’d been the man to claim her as his—and soon she really would be.
‘I have a mind to take you straight back into the bedroom and remove that dress.’ He struggled to stabilise his hoarse voice and bit down hard against the rise of hot, throbbing desire which pulsed through him at the thought of doing just that. How had he thought he could keep things neutral with this woman when she’d been in his mind ever since he’d woken to find her gone?
‘Is it not suitable?’
Her soft voice wavered anxiously and she brushed those sexy tousled curls back from her face. Maledizione! Did she know what she did to him?
She was stunning, beautiful—and the mother of his child. She was now his fiancée. Less than a week ago he had been a single man, a carefree bachelor to whom marriage and commitment had been very much avoidable.
Now he had the responsibility of his child. That thought briefly sobered his desire-infused mind, dredging up his past for inspection once more. He pushed the sabotaging thoughts aside and looked again at the beautiful woman who was to be his wife.
‘It has achieved all that I hoped for, cara, and I am certain that I will not be the only man to want to do just that this evening.’ His voice remained hoarse with desire, just as desire lingered in his body, not quite extinguished.
As she frowned in confusion he crossed the room to her, unable to resist the urge to touch her, to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, his lips. Dio mio, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman—even more than he’d wanted her that first night in London.
He saw the moment she realised his intention, saw her step back, saw the blush spread over her face and it made him want her more. He’d never been so hungry for a woman and he’d never had to control such desires. He was used to getting what he wanted, and right now he wanted this Australian redhead—badly.
‘No.’ That sharp, short word cracked through the sexually charged air and she stood in glorious defiance, her chin lifted, her shoulders back and those lovely green eyes sparking icy fury at him. ‘We made a deal, Dante, one that doesn’t include such things. We are not a real couple.’
‘Sì, cara, you are right. Mi dispiace.’ English mixed with his native Italian as he fought for control over his response to seeing her like this.
One thing it did prove was that she was definitely unfinished business. Would the deal he’d struck with her be enough to keep him at a distance? It should be—as should the fact that he never wanted to care for anyone again, never wanted to be responsible for another person’s happiness. He was done with caring, done with losing a piece of himself when a person left, and Piper had made it clear that she intended to leave once the minimum term of their marriage had been completed, taking with her his child. No, he mustn’t allow emotions to cloud this deal.
‘Just as long as we understand one another.’
Her deep and fast breathing told him she was far from unaffected by what had almost happened, even if her words were cold and to the point. She might not want to be his wife, but she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
‘Very clearly, cara, and now we should go. I have timed our arrival to create maximum impact and so begin the talk of our engagement within the media.’
She looked down at the ring on her finger, her curled hair sliding off her shoulder in a way that was so sensual it almost undid all the control he’d fought hard to regain. He knew what she was thinking as she looked at the symbol of their deal. The platinum band set with a single large diamond would certainly be noticed. There would be no doubt that they were engaged.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said, with a new strength sounding in her voice. ‘The sooner you achieve your aims, the sooner we can return to something resembling normal. I can go back to London and you can continue as if this never happened.’
‘That may not be possible for a while. It is going to be hard to prove to Bettino D’Antonio that I have reformed my ways without you at my side, but there is time later to discuss this—the car is waiting.’ The thought of her returning to London so soon unsettled him, but he wasn’t ready to explore why.
All too soon they were ensconced in the elevator, and her perfume brought back memories of that morning at his office a few days earlier. Then he had thought his imagination was playing tricks on him when the lingering scent in the elevator had brought her so quickly to his mind. The scent was evocative of that night in London, of the passion they’d shared, and now as they got into the car it reminded him far more than he could tolerate.
He studied her as she sat, determinedly staring forward while the car made its way through Rome’s traffic, and wondered if she too felt the zing of electricity which connected them, gaining strength each day.
‘Goodness,’ she gasped and looked at him, her green eyes vivid and wide. ‘So many cameras. I don’t think I can do this.’
He took her hand and looked into the depths of green which reminded him of the forests of Italy in summer. ‘You can. I’m with you.’
Her gaze held his and the connection between them intensified, sending off sparks around them. He had to kiss her—had to feel her lips beneath his and the soft swell of her breasts against his chest as he held her. He had to wrap his arms around her and feel her pliant body melt against his. He couldn’t resist her any longer.
He leant closer. She didn’t pull away, didn’t move back, and her eyes darkened until they resembled the deepest ocean. She wanted him too. Despite the icy indifference she was hiding behind, she wanted him. A pulse of lust hurtled through him as she nervously moistened