Книга - A Night of Living Dangerously

A Night of Living Dangerously
JENNIE LUCAS


Like Cinderella at the ball… Lilley’s fairytale wish is about to be granted. She’ll swap her grey suits for a fabulous dress and killer heels, and dance the night away with the man every other woman wants…but only for one night. When the clock strikes twelve…Alessandro Caetani does not do happy-ever-afters. In fact his charm extends only as far as getting his Little Mouse secretary into bed. Lilley has never taken such a risk before, but this is her night of living dangerously…Who is going to call time on the fairytale ending?










Alessandro shook his head. “I’ve watched you for weeks, Little Mouse, trying to avoid me.”

Her lips parted in shock. He’d noticed her?

“I have a reputation for breaking hearts, but the fact is I always tell women the truth, cara,” he said, looking at her. “So let me be clear. Our romance tonight will be only an illusion. A means to an end for both of us. I will not call you tomorrow. I will not call you ever. You will return to being my employee. And I will be your boss, pretending not to notice as you scurry away in the shadows.”

Lilley licked her lips, searching his gaze. “You mean if I go with you to the ball tonight you’ll ignore me tomorrow? You’ll ignore me forever?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”




About the Author


JENNIE LUCAS grew up dreaming about faraway lands. At fifteen, hungry for experience beyond the borders of her small Idaho city, she went to a Connecticut boarding school on scholarship. She took her first solo trip to Europe at sixteen, then put off college and travelled around the US, supporting herself with jobs as diverse as gas station cashier and newspaper advertising assistant.

At twenty-two she met the man who would be her husband. After their marriage she graduated from Kent State with a degree in English. Seven years after she started writing she got the magical call from London that turned her into a published author.

Since then life has been hectic, with a new writing career, a sexy husband and two small children, but she’s having a wonderful (albeit sleepless) time. She loves immersing herself in dramatic, glamorous, passionate stories. Maybe she can’t physically travel to Morocco or Spain right now, but for a few hours a day, while her children are sleeping, she can be there in her books.

Jennie loves to hear from her readers. You can visit her website at www.jennielucas.com, or drop her a note at jennie@jennielucas.com

Recent titles by the same author:

RECKLESS NIGHT IN RIO

THE VIRGIN’S CHOICE

SENSIBLE HOUSEKEEPER, SCANDALOUSLY PREGNANT



Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk




A Night

of Living

Dangerously

Jennie Lucas







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CHAPTER ONE


“Is someone here?”

The man’s voice was harsh, echoing down the dark halls. Clapping a hand over her mouth, Lilley Smith cut herself off mid sob and ducked back farther into the shadows. It was Saturday evening, and except for the security guards in the lobby downstairs, she’d thought she was alone in the twenty-floor building. Until five seconds ago, when she’d heard the elevator ding and she’d dashed into the nearest private office to hide, dragging her file cart willy-nilly behind her.

Stretching out her foot, Lilley silently nudged the door closed. She wiped her puffy, tearstained eyes, trying not to make a sound as she waited for the man in the hall to leave so she could cry in peace.

Her day had been so horrible it was almost funny. Coming home that morning from an unfortunate, one-time-only attempt at jogging, she’d found her boyfriend in bed with her roommate. Then she’d lost her fledgling dream business. Finally, calling home for comfort, she’d been disinherited by her father. An impressive day, even for her.

Normally it would have bothered Lilley that she’d had to catch up with work on the weekend again. Today it didn’t even register. She’d worked as a file clerk for Caetani Worldwide for two months, but it still took her twice as long as Nadia, the other file-room clerk, to get her files sorted, delivered and returned.

Nadia. Her co-worker, roommate and, as of this morning, former best friend. Exhaling, Lilley leaned back against her cart as she remembered the stricken look in Nadia’s face as she’d tumbled out of bed with Jeremy. Covering herself with a robe, Nadia had cried and asked Lilley for forgiveness as Jeremy tried to make their betrayal sound like Lilley’s fault.

Lilley had fled the apartment and gone straight for the bus downtown. Lost, desperate for comfort, she’d called her father for the first time in three years. That hadn’t gone too well either.

Thank heaven for work. This job was all she had now. But when would the stranger in the hallway leave? When? She couldn’t let him—or anyone—see her like this—with red puffy eyes, working at a snail’s pace as every single letter and number shimmered and moved back and forth on the files. Who was the man, and why wasn’t he dancing and drinking champagne at the charity ball with everyone else?

Lilley shivered. She’d never been in this office before, but it was cavernous and cold, with stark, expensively appointed furnishings of dark wood, a gorgeous Turkish carpet and floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed twilight across downtown San Francisco and the bay beyond. Her head slowly tilted back to view the frescoed ceilings. It was an office fit for a king. Fit for …

Fit for a prince.

Lilley’s lips parted. Panic ripped through her as she realized for the first time whose office this had to be. She gave a terrified little squeak.

The office door creaked open. Lilley reacted on pure instinct, throwing herself through the shadows into the nearest closet.

“Who’s in here?” The man’s voice was harsh and low.

Heart pounding, she peered through the gap in the door. She saw the hulking silhouette of the stranger’s broad-shouldered body in the dim light of the hall, blocking her only avenue of escape.

She covered her mouth with her hands, realizing she’d left her file cart behind the black leather sofa. All the man had to do was turn on the light and he’d see it. Being caught sobbing in the hallway would have been humiliating. Being caught skulking in the CEO’s office would be a career-destroying disaster!

“Come out.” The man’s footstep was heavy on the floor. “I know you’re in here.”

Her heart stopped in her chest as she recognized that husky, accented voice. It wasn’t some random janitor or junior assistant who was about to catch her. It was the CEO himself.

Tall, dark and broad-shouldered, Prince Alessandro Caetani was a self-made billionaire, the CEO of a luxury conglomerate that reached to every corner of the globe. He was also a ruthless playboy. All the women who worked in his San Francisco regional headquarters, from the youngest secretary to the fifty-something female vice president, were madly in love with him.

And now he was about to catch Lilley alone in his office.

Trying not to breathe, she backed farther into his closet, pressing her body behind his jackets, against the back wall. His suits smelled of sandalwood and musk and power. She closed her eyes, praying the prince would turn and leave. For once in her life, she prayed her skill at being invisible to men would actually pay off.

The door was ripped open. The jackets were shoved aside as a large hand ruthlessly grabbed her wrist. She gave a little shriek as he pulled her out of the closet.

“I’ve got you now,” he growled. He switched on a lamp, and a circle of golden light filled the dark, cavernous office. “You little …”

Then he saw her, and his black eyes widened with surprise. Lilley sucked in her breath as, against her will, she looked straight into the face of her boss for the first time.

Prince Alessandro Caetani was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, from his muscular body beneath his black tuxedo to the cold expression in his dark eyes. His aristocratic Roman nose was offset by the slightly thuggish curve of his sharp, dark-shadowed jawline. He looked—and was, if the legends were true—half prince, half conqueror.

“I know you.” Prince Alessandro frowned, looking puzzled in the soft glow of the lamplight. “What are you doing here, little mouse?”

Her wrist burned where he touched her, sending sparks up her arm and down the length of her body. “What—what did you call me?”

He abruptly dropped her wrist. “What is your name?”

It took her a minute to remember. “L-Lilley,” she managed. “From the file room.”

Prince Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. He walked around her, slowly looking her up and down. Her cheeks went hot. Compared to his gorgeous perfection in his sleek, sophisticated tuxedo, she knew she was frumpy and frightful in her sweatshirt and gray baggy sweatpants. “And what are you doing here, Lilley from the file room? Alone in my office on a Saturday night?”

She licked her dry lips, trying to calm her shaking knees. “I was … was …” What had she been doing, anyway? Where was she? Who was she? “I was just … um …” Her eyes fell on the file cart. “Working?”

He followed her gaze, then lifted a dark eyebrow. “Why are you not at the Preziosi ball?”

“I … I lost my date,” she whispered.

“Funny.” His sensual mouth curved in a humorless smile. “That seems to be going around.”

The sexy, deep, accented timbre of his voice moved over her like a spell. She couldn’t move or look away from his masculine beauty as he towered over her, strong, powerful and wide-shouldered, with thighs like tree trunks.

Thighs? Who said anything about his thighs?

Ever since Jeremy had arranged her file-room job, Lilley had done her best to make sure her billionaire boss never noticed her. And now, beneath the prince’s black, hypnotic gaze, she found herself suddenly wanting to blurt out why. She wasn’t very good at telling lies, not even white ones. The hot, searing depths in Prince Alessandro’s dark eyes whispered that she could tell him anything, anything at all, and he would understand. He would forgive and show mercy.

But she’d been around powerful men before. She recognized the intensity of his gaze for what it actually was: an emotional shakedown.

The ruthless playboy prince, show mercy? No way. If he knew about Lilley’s father, about her cousin, he’d fire her. Or worse.

“Lilley,” he mused aloud in the silent office. He tilted his head, and his eyes suddenly gleamed in the small circle of lamplight. “What is your last name?”

“Smith,” she said honestly, then hid a smile. No help for him there.

“And what are you doing in my office, Miss Smith?”

The scent of him, sandalwood and musk and soap and something more—something uniquely him—washed over her. She gave an involuntary shiver. “Returning, um, files.”

“You know my files go to Mrs. Rutherford.”

“Yes,” she admitted unhappily.

He moved closer. She could practically feel the warmth of his body through his crisp black tuxedo jacket. “Tell me why you’re really here.”

She swallowed, looking down at the expensive carpet beneath her old, scuffed jogging shoes. “I just wanted to work for a few hours in peace and quiet. Without anyone bothering me.”

“On a Saturday night?” he said coldly. “You were searching my office. Going through my files.”

She looked up. “No!”

Prince Alessandro folded his arms. His dark eyes were hard, his expression like chiseled stone.

“I was hiding,” she said in a voice almost too soft to hear.

“Hiding?” His voice was silky. “Hiding from what?”

Against her will, the truth was ripped out of her. “From you.”

His dark eyes sharpened. He leaned forward. “Tell me why.”

Lilley could barely even breathe, much less think, with Prince Alessandro Caetani so close to her.

The soft golden glow of the lamp, the darkening twilight outside the windows filled the enormous, high-ceilinged office with deepening shadows. “I was crying,” she whispered over the lump in her throat. “I couldn’t stay at home, I’m days behind on my work, and I didn’t want you to see me because I was crying!”

Struggling not to cry, Lilley looked away. If she wept in front of her powerful boss, her humiliation would be complete. He would fire her—whether for skulking in his office, for crying in such an unprofessional way, or for being so behind on her work, it hardly mattered. She would lose the last thing she valued. The perfect finale to the second-worst day of her life.

“Ah,” he said softly, looking down at her. “At last, I understand.”

Her shoulders sagged. He was going to tell her to gather her things and get out of his building.

The prince’s gaze was full of darkness, an ocean at midnight, deep enough to drown in. “You were in love with him?”

“What?” Lilley blinked. “Who?”

The corners of his sensual mouth curved upward. “The man.”

“What makes you think I was crying over a man?”

“Why else would a woman weep?”

She laughed, but the sound was almost like a sob. “Everything has gone wrong today. I thought I might be happier if I lost some weight. I tried to go for a jog. Big mistake.” She looked down at her old running shoes, at her baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. “My roommate thought I’d left for work. When I came back to the apartment I found her with my boyfriend. In bed.”

Alessandro cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Lilley looked up at him, shocked by his unexpected sympathy. Then her lips parted. Sparks spread from his touch, zinging from her earlobes to her scalp, down her neck and spine, causing heat to whirl like lightning across her skin. Her breasts felt strangely heavy, her nipples tightening beneath her workout bra.

His eyes narrowed in surprise. “But you’re beautiful.”

Beautiful? It was like a slap in the face. She ripped away. “Don’t.”

He frowned. “Don’t what?”

His cruelty took her breath away. She blinked fast, glaring up at him. “I know I’m not beautiful. And it’s fine. I know I’m not smart either, and I can live with that. But for you to stand there and taunt me like that …” She gripped her hands into fists. “It’s not just patronizing, it’s heartless!”

Alessandro looked down at her gravely, not saying a word. And Lilley sucked in her breath, realizing she’d just told off her boss.

She clasped her hands together. “I’m fired, right?” When he didn’t reply, a shudder of grief went through her. Her hands shook as she picked up a file from the floor and reached for the metal cart. “I’ll finish my work,” she said miserably, “then collect my things.”

He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “So a compliment is a taunt?” Staring down at her, he shook his head. “You’re a strange girl, Lilley Smith.”

The way Prince Alessandro was looking at her, for an instant she’d almost thought—but no. Strange was a code word for helpless failure. She said over the lump in her throat, “So my father has always told me.”

“You’re not fired.”

She looked up at him with the first glimmer of hope. “I’m not?”

Leaning forward, he took the file from her hand and set it on top of the metal cart. “I have a different sort of penalty in mind.”

“The guillotine?” she said weakly. “The electric chair?”

“You’ll come with me to the ball tonight.”

Her lips fell open. “W-what?”

His dark eyes were as warm as molten chocolate and hot as embers of fire. “I want you to be my date.”

Lilley stared at him, her eyes wide, her heart pounding. Had she fallen into some strange dream? Prince Alessandro could have the most beautiful women on earth—and he’d already had quite a few of them, according to the celebrity tabloids. Frowning, she turned around to make sure he wasn’t talking to some movie star or lingerie model behind her.

“Well, cara?” he said huskily. “What do you say?”

Lilley turned back. She felt dizzy from his attention, half-drunk beneath the intensity of his dark gaze. She said slowly, “I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand?”

Lilley cleared her throat. “I don’t get the joke.”

“I never joke.”

“You don’t? Too bad. I joke all the time,” she said. “Usually by accident.”

He didn’t even smile. He just looked down at her, his face unmovable and oh, so handsome.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“But—it’s the Preziosi di Caetani ball,” she stammered. “The biggest charity event of the summer. The mayor will be there. The governor. The paparazzi.”

“So?”

“So you could have any woman you want.”

“And I want you.”

His four simple words made Lilley’s heart twist in her chest. She clasped her trembling hands together. “But you have a girlfriend. I’ve read—”

His expression hardened. “No.”

“But Olivia Bianchi—”

“No,” he said tersely.

Biting her lip, Lilley looked up at him. He wasn’t telling her the whole truth. And the waves of danger emanating off his body nearly scorched her. If he found out who Lilley really was, she would lose her job—or possibly get dragged into court on charges of corporate espionage. Every instinct of self-preservation told her one thing: Run.

“Sorry,” she said. “No.”

His eyes widened. She’d clearly shocked him. “Why?”

She bit her lip. “My work—”

“Give me a real reason,” he bit out.

A real reason? How about the fact that she was the daughter of a man he hated, and the cousin of another man he hated even more? Or the biggest reason of all: his strength, power and masculine beauty terrified her, making her heart pound and her body break out in a hot sweat? No man had ever had this effect on her, ever, and she didn’t know what to do. Except run.

“My boyfriend … my ex-boyfriend,” she stumbled, “will be at the ball tonight with my friend—Nadia. So you see I couldn’t possibly go.”

“He’ll be at the ball?” Alessandro’s eyes sharpened. “Do I know him—this man who made you weep?”

“He works in the Preziosi jewelry-design division.”

His eyes gleamed. “All the more reason to go. When he sees you on my arm, he will remember your value and beg you to come back to him. You can accept his groveling or spurn him, as you choose. And the woman will suffer when she sees you as my date.”

She stared up at him in amazement. “You don’t have self-esteem issues, do you?”

He looked at her with an even gaze. “We both know it is true.”

Lilley pressed her lips together, knowing he was right. If she went as his date, she would be the most envied woman in the city—possibly in all of California.

The thought of Nadia and Jeremy groveling at her feet and begging for forgiveness was a delicious one. All the times Lilley had worked late, all the times she’d asked Nadia to please explain to Jeremy and entertain him, and they’d betrayed her. She had no friends in this city now. None.

She lifted her eyes to Alessandro’s. “I’m not a very good dancer.”

He slowly looked her over. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I took ballroom-dancing lessons as a kid, and my teacher asked me to quit. I was like one of those dancing elephants with tutus. All my boyfriends have complained about me stepping on their feet.”

His expression changed, became softer. “Even if that were true,” he murmured, “the fault would be your partner’s, not yours. It is the man’s responsibility to lead.”

She swallowed. “Um. I… I never thought of that. I just assumed I was to blame.”

“You assumed wrong,” he said simply, then lifted his eyebrow. “But just out of curiosity, how many is all?”

“What?”

“All your boyfriends.”

Oh heavens. She couldn’t tell him her pathetic number. She lifted her chin and said with false bravado, “A few.”

“Ten?” he persisted.

The heat in her cheeks deepened as her shoulders slumped. “Two,” she confessed. “A boyfriend in high school, and …” A lump rose in her throat. “… and Jeremy.”

“Jeremy. That is his name? The man who broke your heart?”

“He betrayed me.” She looked at the floor. “But that’s not what broke my heart.”

He waited, but she did not explain. “So go out tonight. Your dancing skills are irrelevant, because we will not dance.”

She looked up at him with a crooked grin. “Afraid of getting your toes stomped?”

“I do not dance.”

Her eyes widened. “What—never?”

“No.”

“But you’re the sponsor of the Preziosi di Caetani ball!”

“It raises money for my favorite charity and gets good press for Caetani Worldwide,” he said coldly. “That’s what I care about. Dancing does not interest me.”

“Oh,” Lilley said uncertainly. She bit her lip. “I see.”

But she didn’t see at all. How could a man like Prince Alessandro, the heartthrob of women around the world, sponsor a ball and not dance? It didn’t make sense.

He started to reach for her hand. “Come. We must hurry.”

She backed away. She was afraid to let him touch her again, afraid of his strange power over her body. She gulped. “Why me?”

“Why not you?”

Setting her jaw, she folded her arms. “You’re famous for many things, Prince Alessandro, but taking file clerks on charity dates isn’t one of them.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Turning, he went to the large modernist painting above his desk and swung it open to reveal a safe. Turning the combination to open the door, he pulled out two platinum and diamond cufflinks, then faced her with new intrigue. “You interest me, Lilley Smith. Not one woman in a thousand would have asked me why before saying yes.”

“I guess I’m weird that way.” She watched him put on his expensive cufflinks one at a time, saw the strength of his wrists and the sensual movement of his hands. He paused.

“My date for the ball fell through ten minutes ago.”

“Miss Bianchi?”

“Yes.”

She’d seen pictures of the Milanese heiress, who was blond, thin and beautiful—everything Lilley was not. She looked down. “I’m nothing like her.”

“That makes you perfect,” he said harshly. “Olivia will learn how I respond to ultimatums. I need a date, and I found you in my office. It is fate.”

“Fate,” she whispered. He came back around his desk, his body a dark, powerful shadow. His eyes locked with hers.

“I need a date. You need revenge. This Jeremy will be on his knees for you before the night is through.”

A low current went up her spine. No matter how much they’d hurt her, she knew revenge was wrong. And being close to Alessandro scared her. She wasn’t just afraid for her job. He made her feel so … so strange.

“Why do you hesitate?” he demanded. “Are you in love with him?”

She shook her head. “It’s just …”

“What?”

Swallowing, she turned away. “Nothing.”

“I’ve watched you for weeks, little mouse, trying to avoid me.”

Her lips parted in shock. “You saw me?”

He gave a single nod. “Scurrying the other way when you saw me in the halls. This type of behavior from a woman is very … singular. It puzzled me. But now I understand.”

“You do?” she croaked.

He touched her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Most women I’ve met would have deserted their lovers in an instant to be with me. Loyalty is a rare quality. This man who betrayed you, he is a fool.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She stared up at him, mesmerized.

He dropped his hand. “But you have nothing to fear,” he said simply. “Our romance will be only an illusion. I will not call you tomorrow. I will not call you ever. After tonight, you will again be just my employee, and I will be your boss, pretending not to notice as you avoid me in the shadows.”

Lilley swallowed, still feeling his touch on her cheek. “You mean if I go with you to the ball tonight,” she whispered, “you’ll ignore me tomorrow? You’ll ignore me forever?”

“Yes.”

Lilley exhaled. She had to make him forget her existence. It was the only way to guarantee he wouldn’t be curious enough to discover the omissions on her résumé. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that wasn’t the only reason.

You’re always running away, Lilley. Jeremy’s stinging indictment rang in her ears. You said you came to San Francisco to pursue your jewelry business and spend time with me. Instead you’ve avoided us both since the day you arrived here. Either you never really wanted me or the business, or you’re the worst coward I’ve ever known.

Lilley closed her eyes. That morning, she’d been too angry to listen to his words. Jeremy and Nadia had betrayed her, pure and simple. She’d done nothing wrong. Right?

Right?

But suddenly all she wanted to do was prove Jeremy wrong. To be one of the glamorous, carefree, fearless girls who wore sparkly clothes and danced, laughed and drank champagne. To be the girl courted by a knight in shining armor.

To be the girl who attended a ball with a prince.

She wasn’t a coward. She wasn’t. She could be as brave and ruthless as anyone. She could watch Prince Alessandro and learn!

Lilley opened her eyes. “I accept.”

He looked down at her. “Do you understand, Lilley?” he said evenly. “It’s not a real date. There will be nothing between us tomorrow. Absolutely nothing.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she said. “Monday I’ll go back to the file room. You’ll go back to Rome and probably Miss Bianchi, when you’re done teaching her your little lesson. I’ll continue to work for you and you’ll never bother me again. Perfect.”

He stared at her, then snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “You continue to surprise me, Lilley,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around her waist. “Come. We haven’t much time.”

As he led her out of the office, she felt a rush of sensation from the heaviness of his arm around her. Trying to ignore the wobble of her knees, she glanced back at the file cart. “But I haven’t finished my work—”

“It will be arranged.”

“And I don’t have a dress!”

His lips curved. “You will.”

She looked up at him, annoyed. “Who am I, Cinderella? Are you supposed to be my fairy godmother? I’m not going to let you buy me a dress!”

In the hallway, he pushed the button to summon the elevator then took her hand in his own. “Of course you will.” He gently pushed some strands of brown hair out of her eyes. “You will let me do exactly as I please, and I will give you an evening of pleasure. A beautiful gown, the envy of your coworkers and revenge against the people who betrayed you. It will be … an interesting night.”

Lilley breathed in his scent of clean skin and sandalwood, of seduction and power. She felt his palm against her own, rough and hot, and her pulse quickened, sending shivers up and down her virgin body. “All right. Yes.”

His dark eyes gleamed in the shadows of the hallway. “Yes?”

“Yes to the dress. To your help.” She licked her lips and gave him a trembling smile. “Yes to everything, your highness.”

“Call me Alessandro.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. She felt the press of his smooth, sensual lips and the heat of his breath against her skin, and gasped as fire raced up her arm and down the length of her body, igniting her like a match thrown into gasoline. “And women always do,” he murmured.

She licked her lips, dazed. “What?”

He straightened. His dark eyes were hot as a smile curled his sensual lips.

“Say yes,” he whispered. “To everything.”




CHAPTER TWO


EVENING fog had rolled in, seeping beneath Alessandro’s tuxedo as he stepped out of the limo onto the red carpet outside the hundred-year-old mansion on Nob Hill. It was August, but the fog was clammy and damp against his skin, a cold wet slap across the face.

Alessandro was grateful. A cold slap was exactly what he needed at the moment.

Flashbulbs of the waiting paparazzi popped around him as he heard Lilley’s high heels clack against the concrete then step softly onto the red carpet behind him. Alessandro’s body tightened. Overwhelming desire crackled through his blood, a shocking need that had begun the moment he’d gotten his first real look at her face in his office.

And now it was a hundred times worse. Just the drive in the limo had been almost unbearable, as he sat beside her. He hadn’t known she was so beautiful.

He felt Lilley’s graceful arm wrap around his, felt the light, gentle pressure of her hand against his forearm, felt the warmth of her touch through his tuxedo jacket.

With a shiver of desire, he looked down at her.

He’d noticed the mousy file clerk weeks ago. Rosy-cheeked and brown-haired, always wearing shapeless, unattractive dresses, she’d looked barely more than twenty and fresh from the country. After watching her veer away from him in a panic with her cart whenever their paths crossed, he’d been curious enough to have Mrs. Rutherford pull a copy of the girl’s file. But he hadn’t discovered anything very interesting there. She’d moved to San Francisco in June, and the file-room position was apparently her first job since working as a hotel housekeeper in Minneapolis a few years ago. Everything about her was forgettable, even her name.

Except that was no longer true.

Alessandro exhaled. He’d intended to teach Olivia she could be replaced with anyone, even an unfashionable, plump, plain file clerk, fresh from the farm. But the joke was on him, it seemed.

How come he’d never really seen Lilley Smith until today?

Unfashionable? A personal stylist at a luxury boutique had poured Lilley into a long, slinky red dress with spaghetti straps. Backless and daringly low-cut, the red knit gown seemed to cling to her breasts, teasing a man’s gaze, threatening at any moment to reveal too much.

Plump? The dress showed off the curves her baggy clothes had hidden. Her breasts and hips were generous and wide, her waist small. She had the shockingly feminine figure that used to drive men wild … and still did. The classic 1950s Marilyn Monroe curves that made any man break out in a sweat. A droplet formed on Alessandro’s forehead just looking at her.

And plain? That was the biggest laugh of all. Alessandro had seen the rare beauty of her naked face up close in his office—but now, after Sergio’s makeup and hair team had done their work, her loveliness was shocking. Kohl and mascara darkened her deep-brown eyes, and red lipstick highlighted the seductive curve of her full, generous mouth.

Lilley’s long, light-brown hair tumbled seductively down her bare shoulders and naked back.

Alessandro had watched her for weeks from a distance, but it was only today that he’d finally seen Lilley Smith for what she truly was.

A beauty.

A sex kitten.

A bombshell.

As they walked down the red carpet towards the sweeping steps of the hundred-year-old Harts Mansion, the paparazzi went crazy, shouting questions.

“Where’s Olivia? Did you two break up?”

“Who’s the new girl?”

“Yeah, who’s the sexy brunette?”

Alessandro gave them a half smile and a brusque wave. He was accustomed to being followed and photographed wherever he went, from his palace in Rome to his yacht in Sardinia to his North American headquarters in San Francisco. It was the price he paid for being successful and a bachelor. But as he led Lilley down the red carpet, her feet dragged behind him. He glanced down at her, and realized she was shaking.

“What is it?” he said beneath his breath.

“They’re staring at me,” she said in a low voice.

“Of course they’re staring.” Alessandro turned to her, brushing hair away from her eyes. “So am I.”

“Just get me through this,” she whispered, her beautiful brown eyes looking big and scared. His heart twisted strangely. Tucking her hand more securely around his arm, Alessandro led her swiftly down the red carpet, using his body to block the more aggressive photographers leaning over the ropes. Alessandro usually stopped for photographs—an unfortunate necessity to maximize publicity for the children’s charity that would benefit tonight—but he knew Lilley would never manage. Ignoring the shouted questions and frustrated groans, he kept walking, leading her up the sweeping stairs to the shadowy columns of the portico.

Once they were inside the mansion’s double doors, past security and into the golden, glittering foyer, Lilley exhaled. Her luminous eyes looked up at him with gratitude. “Thanks.” She swallowed. “That was … not fun.”

“No?” he said lightly. “Most women think otherwise. Most see it as a perk of dating me.”

“Well, I don’t.” Lilley shuddered. She licked her lips, fidgeting with the low neckline of her tight red gown. “I feel like a dork.”

Heat flashed through Alessandro. He wanted to touch everywhere her fingers were tugging, to rip the fabric off her body and cover those amazing breasts with his hands, to nibble and stroke and lick every inch of her.

No, he told himself angrily. He had three rules. No employees, no wives, no virgins. There were too many women in the world, all too easily possessed, to break those cardinal rules. Lilley was an employee. She was also brokenhearted and on the rebound. Too many complications. Too many risks. Lilley was off limits.

But then again …

Alessandro looked at the red fabric barely clinging to her breasts. Looked at the graceful curve of her neck, at the roses in her cheeks and her pale skin beneath thick waves of soft brown hair. He felt a rush of forbidden desire.

Maybe it was a stupid rule, he thought. Maybe taking an employee as his mistress was a great idea. Wasn’t his HR department always telling him to promote from within?

Lilley’s beautiful eyes looked miserable and vulnerable. “I look like an idiot, don’t I?”

Didn’t she realize her beauty? Why did she hide it? Why didn’t she use it to gain attention in the workplace to get ahead, as other women would have done?

Was it possible that she really didn’t know how lovely she was? He narrowed his eyes. “You are beautiful, Lilley.”

Looking up at him, she suddenly scowled, her lovely expression peeved. “I told you never to call me that—”

“You are beautiful,” he said harshly, cupping his hand against her soft cheek. He searched her gaze. “Listen to me. You know the kind of man I am. The kind, you said, who would never take a girl on a charity date. So why would I lie? You are beautiful.”

The anger slid from her face. She suddenly looked bewildered and innocent and painfully shy. He could read her feelings in her face, something else he found shocking. It was an act—right? It had to be. She couldn’t be that young.

He’d been open-hearted and reckless too, long ago. He remembered it like some long-forgotten dream. Perhaps that was why he felt strangely, unexpectedly protective.

He didn’t like it.

“You really—” Lilley stopped herself, then bit her lip. “You really think I’m pretty?”

“Pretty?” he demanded, amazed. Lifting her chin, he tilted her head up towards the light shining from the foyer’s glittering chandelier. “You are a beauty, little mouse.”

She stared up at him, then her lips suddenly quirked. “You keep calling me that. Can’t you just call me Lilley?”

“Sorry.” His lips curved. “It’s a habit. It was my name for you, when I was blind.”

Lilley’s brown eyes sparkled as a smile lit up her face. “So in one breath you tell me I’m beautiful, and in the next you tell me you’re blind?”

Her smile was so breathtaking that it caught at his heart.

“Your beauty would make any man blind, cara,” he said huskily. “I told you that you’d be envied if you came with me to the ball. I was wrong. I will be the one envied tonight.”

Her eyes grew big, her dark eyelashes sweeping wide against her pale skin. “Huh. You’re not so bad at this complimenting stuff.” Her smile lifted into a wicked grin. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Against his will, Alessandro grinned back at her, and as their eyes locked a seismic tremble raced through his body. How was it possible that he’d ever thought of Lilley as an invisible brown sparrow?

From the instant he’d seen her pushing her little filing cart down the hall, why hadn’t he immediately seen her beauty? Lilley’s combination of sweetness and tartness, her innocent eyes and lush, sexy curves, caused a spasm of need deeper than his body, down to some fundamental part of his soul.

Soul? The word made his lip curl. Soul. What a ridiculous idea. Funny the tricks lust could play on a man’s mind.

And he wanted her. Oh yes.

But he wouldn’t let himself act on it. He was not a slave to lust. He was a grown man, the head of a worldwide company, and it was past time that he stopped chasing one-night stands and settled down. Olivia Bianchi would make a perfect princess, and when she inherited her father’s designer-clothing business, Caetani Worldwide’s reach would double in Europe. He did not love her, any more than Olivia loved him, but their union made sense. He’d nearly talked himself into proposing until she’d pulled that little stunt.

He should have expected Olivia’s ultimatum. He’d been on the phone in his limo, en route to the office for his forgotten cufflinks, and he’d felt her simmering beside him in her black fur coat. The instant he’d ended the business call, Olivia had turned on him in angry, rapid-fire Italian.

“When are you going to propose, Alessandro? When?

I’m sick of waiting for you to decide. Make our engagement official, or find someone else to be your hostess at the charity ball!”

Five minutes later, he’d dropped Olivia off at her ritzy hotel. No woman, not even one as powerful and perfect as Olivia, would ever give him an ultimatum.

Now, as Alessandro led Lilley towards the ballroom of the Harts Mansion, he felt a rush of relief that he was still a free man. This was already proving to be the most enjoyable, surprising night he’d had in a long time.

Keeping Lilley close beside him, he paused at the landing on the top of the stairs, looking down into the ballroom. A hush fell beneath the soaring painted ceilings and enormous crystal chandeliers as hundreds of guests turned to stare up at them. Alessandro felt Lilley stiffen. She wasn’t accustomed to being the center of attention, that was certain. She seemed to expect criticism, which he could not remotely understand.

“I can’t tell you you’re beautiful, because you’ll hit me,” he murmured. “But I know every man would kill to be in my place.”

Her eyes flashed up at him, and he saw her lips quirk into a nervous smile. “Okay,” she said in a low voice, bracing herself. “Let’s go.”

Alessandro led her down the stairs, where his board members, stockholders and friends waited. He spoke to each of them in turn, then moved across the ballroom, greeting the mayor, the governor, movie stars and visiting royalty by name. The men grinned and asked him for stock tips. The women flirted with him and tossed their hair. And they all gaped at Lilley beside him. None of the upper-level directors of Caetani Worldwide recognized her, he was positive, though they’d likely passed her many times in the hallways.

Insane to think he’d once been just as blind.

Speaking with each of his guests in turn, Alessandro thanked them for their donation to his favorite children’s charity. He felt Lilley trembling beside him as if she wanted to take flight, and took her hand firmly in his own, pressing her forward with a gentle push against the naked skin of her lower back. Even that innocent, courteous touch was incredibly erotic. All he wanted to do was leave the gala ball and drag Lilley away to some quiet place. Perhaps his villa in Sonoma, which conveniently had ten bedrooms.

“Your highness,” the head of the children’s charity said breathlessly, looking up at him through her glasses with dazzled eyes, “won’t you say a few words to start the bidding for the auction tonight?”

“Certainly,” Alessandro said with a practiced smile. “I’ll do it at once.”

Gripping Lilley’s hand, he crossed the ballroom towards the stage, and the crowds parted for them like magic. He felt her panic as he led her up the stairs, felt her small hand pulling desperately to be freed. It was only once they were behind the wings of the stage that he released her hand, looking down at her.

“Thanks for being my date tonight,” he said huskily, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. It was just an innocent, friendly kiss. Practically nothing. But when he pulled away, her eyes were huge.

His own lips burned where they’d touched her skin. For an instant, they just stared at each other. His blood roared in his ears, his heart pounding with the need to pull her into his arms and kiss her, really kiss her. He had to force himself to step back.

“Excuse me.” Years of not showing feelings stood him in good stead. His voice was calm and even, betraying nothing of his tumult within. “This will take just a moment.”

“Sure,” she said faintly.

Leaving her in the wings, he walked to the microphone at the center of the stage. A hush fell across the ballroom, and Alessandro waited for the hearty cheer of the crowd which quickly followed. He was accustomed to being the center of attention, and far from being nervous, he was bored by it—all of it. There was only one thing that did not bore him right now, one thing that made his blood hum and his body come alive. One thing he wanted.

And he could not let himself have her.

Gripping the podium with his hands, he gave a speech, hardly knowing what he was saying. He could feel Lilley watching from the wings. His heartbeat was quick, his body hot with repressed desire.

“… and so I thank you, my friends,” he finished. “Drink champagne, dance and bid high. Remember every penny raised tonight goes to help children in need!”

The cheer across the ballroom was even louder. With an absentminded wave, he left the podium and went straight back to Lilley, who looked as if she’d recovered her senses and was now staring at her watch, keeping time.

“Six minutes.” She looked up at him with quirked lips. “I’m impressed. Usually speeches given by important men last for at least an hour. You’re fast.”

He gave her a lazy smile, then leaned forward to whisper, “I’m slow where it counts.”

Alessandro had the satisfaction of seeing her shiver. That was some solace, at least—knowing she was as aware of him as he was of her. It amazed him, how Lilley hid nothing of her feelings. So young, he thought in wonder, so reckless and unrestrained. It reminded him of what he’d once been like himself, before he’d been betrayed. Like her, he’d once been young and hopeful, poor and driven to succeed …

Poor? The sparkle of Lilley’s watch caught his eye, and he grabbed her wrist. “What’s this?”

She tried to pull her wrist from his grasp. “Nothing.”

In the background, he could hear the orchestra start a waltz. He was dimly aware of guests going out to the dance floor. “It’s platinum. Diamonds. I don’t recognize the brand.”

“Hainsbury,” she said in a small voice.

Hainsbury’s. The damned discount jewelry chain that had recently tried—and failed—to execute a hostile takeover of Caetani Worldwide, solely in order to acquire the cachet of his luxury jewelry brand, Preziosi di Caetani. His eyes narrowed. “Who gave it to you?”

She swallowed. “My mother.”

He told himself it was entirely reasonable that someone from the Midwest might own a Hainsbury watch. It was a coincidence, nothing more. His endless battles with the Count of Castelnau, his crafty, vicious French rival, were making him paranoid. He looked at Lilley’s face. Clearly he was losing his mind to be suspicious of a girl like this.

“Nice,” he said casually, dropping her wrist. “I wouldn’t have recognized it. It looks nothing like their usual factory-made junk.”

Looking away, she wrapped her hand around her wrist. Her voice was awkward. “My mother had it specially made.”

He’d embarrassed her, Alessandro thought. Drawing attention to her Hainsbury-brand watch at a ball sponsored by the far more prestigious Preziosi di Caetani. “Whoever made it, your watch is truly exquisite.” He smiled down at her and changed the subject. “Had enough of the ball? Ready to leave?”

“Leave?” Her lips parted. “We just got here!”

“So?” he said impatiently.

She glanced uneasily towards the dance floor. “People are waiting to talk to you.”

“They already have my money.”

“It’s not just a question of money. They clearly want you. Your time and attention.” She gave him a sudden crooked smile. “Though heaven knows why. I’ve yet to see your charm myself.”

He gave her a sensual smile. “Do you want me to try harder?”

Her eyes widened and he heard her intake of breath. She muttered, “I’m no good at this.”

“To the contrary.”

She shook her head. “Forget it. Just don’t try to charm me, all right? There’s no point, and it might … I mean … we’re just using each other tonight. Leave it at that.”

Alessandro’s gaze fell to her trembling lips. “Right. You’re here for revenge. You haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

“No.” Her voice was quiet.

“He will fall on his knees when he sees you,” Alessandro said roughly. “Come.”

Grabbing her hand, he led her off the stage and across the dance floor, tracing through the crowds of swaying, laughing couples. Once, Alessandro would have been the first man on the dance floor. He would have pulled Lilley into his arms and moved her against his body in the music’s seductive rhythm. But he hadn’t danced for sixteen years now. Crossing the floor, he didn’t even pause.

The charity director waited for him on the other edge of the dance floor. She beamed at him, gushing thanks and praise, and Alessandro accepted her gratitude with as much grace as he could manage. He was glad to help the charity, but the long line of guests that instantly formed, people waiting to thank him and shake his hand, seemed endless. Almost beyond endurance. He wanted to grab Lilley’s hand and jump into his car, and not stop until they were completely alone, away from the crowds of reaching hands and yearning eyes.

But there were some duties from which neither royalty nor wealth excused a man. Standing on the edge of the dance floor like a king holding court, he endured the long queue of wealthy donors and powerful people as best as he could. As solace, he pulled Lilley to stand in front of him, wrapping his arms around her as if he were a child with a comforting blanket.

Except he was no longer a child, and Alessandro had a grown man’s idea of comfort. Throughout the endless small talk he found himself distracted by the way her full breasts felt, pressed against his arms. He allowed himself one glance down, and saw that her low neckline barely covered the indecent swell of her breasts. He could see the shape of pebbled nipples though the red knit fabric. It was just as he’d suspected—she wasn’t wearing a bra. And he wasn’t the only man to notice. All the eyes of the male guests waiting to talk to him lingered long upon her, and Alessandro felt an urge to growl at them.

He was long past hard. He had the sudden bright idea of writing the charity a ten-million-dollar check, if it meant he could leave this ball and take her straight to bed.

He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. Sex with Lilley was a bad idea on every level. She was his employee, possibly in love with another man, and she was right—they were using each other tonight for mutual gain. He’d told her that straight out. A cheap one-night stand would only end in her recriminations, tears and perhaps a sexual-harassment lawsuit.

But with every passing moment, his self-restraint was growing frayed. Feeling her in his arms right now he felt oddly alive in a way he hadn’t experienced in years. She made him feel … young again. As if he still had a beating heart.

And that was her biggest danger of all. He couldn’t seduce her. He had to send her away. Had to—

Lilley glanced back at him, her lips parted. He saw the tip of her pink tongue dart out to the edge of her mouth and he nearly groaned. He wanted to taste those lips. Plunder her mouth with his. He wanted to rip the clingy red dress off her body, to spread her across his bed, to push himself inside her, to fill her hard and deep—

Basta. He broke out into a hot sweat. As the ambassador droned on to him about the fluidity of Asian exchange rates, all Alessandro could think was that it was a good thing Lilley was standing in front of him, blocking others’ view of his trousers. Where was his self-control?

In front of him, Lilley stiffened. For a moment, Alessandro wondered if she’d felt his desire for her—how could she not? Then he saw she was looking over the crowd.

“Jeremy,” she said in a low voice.

For a moment, Alessandro couldn’t remember what she was talking about. Then his insides burned. He felt envious of this employee in his jewelry-design department, this man who’d had her at his command and let her go.

“Excuse us,” he said to the people surrounding them. Ignoring their protests, he pulled Lilley to a quiet corner next to a window.

“Where is he?” he said, keeping his expression impassive.

“Over there.”

He followed her gaze. His eyes narrowed in the desire to see this paragon but no one stood out to him at all. He felt irritated. Irritated wasn’t a strong enough word. Jealous? No, impossible. Jealousy was for the weak, for sad, vulnerable men who served their hearts on platters to be shredded and devoured.

So he didn’t feel jealous. He felt … annoyed. Sì. Annoyed.

He’d said he would help Lilley get the man back. Now he regretted his promise. Why should he help another, less-deserving man get what he himself wanted—Lilley in his bed?

But if Lilley truly loved this Jeremy, Alessandro would do the honorable thing. He would step aside with the noble self-sacrifice of a damned saint.

“Va bene,” he ground out. “If you still want this idiot, this imbecile without a shred of sense or loyalty, I will help you win him.”

Lilley flashed him a grin. “Um. You’re too kind?”

“Just tell me one thing,” he demanded.

“Only one?”

His fingers moved down her shoulders, stroking down the warm, bare skin of her back. He saw her eyes widen, felt her shiver and he fought back the urge to yank her body hot and hard against his own. “Why would you want him back, after he made you weep?”

Her smile fell. She took a deep breath, then lifted her left wrist. “Look at this.”

A change of subject? He looked down at the bracelet on her wrist. He’d noticed it earlier, a pastiche of welded materials—colorful crystals on a brass chain, interspersed with rusty-looking numbers and held together with a tarnished buckle. “What about it?”

“I made it.”

He grabbed her wrist, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head as he tried to make sense of the bracelet. He pointed to the metal number dangling off the chain. “What’s that?”

“A room number from an eighteenth-century Parisian hotel.”

It seemed strange to him, an artistic hodgepodge of junk. “How do you source the materials?”

“At flea markets and vintage shops, mostly. I create jewelry using old things I find.” She swallowed. “I met Jeremy at San Francisco’s trade show a few months ago, when my employer thought I was visiting my family. Jeremy loved my jewelry. We decided to be partners and open a boutique together. He was going to handle the financials. I would create the inventory.” She blinked fast, and looked away. “When he chose my roommate over me, I lost that dream.”

He could see her eyes were shiny with tears, and his insides gave a little twist. “The man’s a damned fool,” he said roughly. He tried to think of how to comfort her. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he tried. “Running a business is a huge risk. You might have lost your investment. People don’t want old trinkets. They want their jewelry shiny and new.”

Her lips trembled, curving as she looked up. Her eyes were bleak. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

His attempt at comfort was a clear failure. But Alessandro knew words weren’t enough to make anyone forget the loss of a dream. He had no idea how to make Lilley forget her pain. He knew only one way, the same way he used to forget his own.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t allow himself to make love to her.

The orchestra started a new song, and the notes of an exquisite classical waltz swirled around them like cherry blossoms tumbling from the sky. Lilley looked out at the crowded dance floor wistfully.

She’d told him she wasn’t a good dancer, but he didn’t believe that for an instant. He’d seen the sensual way she moved. Even walking, her body swayed like sunset against ocean waves.

But he couldn’t dance with her. His hands tightened at his sides. He was helpless to offer comfort.

Unless he made love to her.

What could it hurt? His lust argued against his brain.

One night of pleasure. A few hours of comfort. One night wouldn’t risk making her fall in love with him. It wasn’t as if she were a virgin.

Although she was shockingly close. Two boyfriends. He still couldn’t believe she’d only been with two men. She truly was innocent. And yet she’d seemed embarrassed of her number. He wondered what she would think if he told her how many women he’d slept with. Something he would never do, even if he knew the number.

“I’m sorry I don’t dance,” he said slowly.

She looked down. “It’s all right.”

The scent of her hair was like wild roses. He moved closer, fascinated by the swoop of her neck, by the snub edge of her chin. Her cheeks blushed a soft pink against creamy skin as her dark eyelashes fluttered. He asked suddenly, “How old are you, Lilley?”

“Twenty-three.” She furrowed her brow. “Why? How old are you?”

“Ancient to you. Thirty-five.”

“Thirty-five, and still not married?” She sounded as astonished as his shareholders. “Where I come from, most people are married by thirty.”

“Advantageous for farm life, I assume.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t exactly come from a—”

“In my world,” he interrupted, “a man marries to ensure his line, to make sure he has a son to inherit his title and estate when he’s dead.”

She flashed him a grin. “Gee, you make it all sound so romantic.”

“It’s not about romance, Lilley,” he said sharply. “Marriage is an alliance. My wife will be a leader in society. An heiress with proper lineage, the future mother to my heir.”

Her grin faded. “Like Olivia Bianchi.”

Even hearing her name irritated him. “Yes.”

Lilley’s eyes were huge beneath the glittering light of the chandeliers. “So if she’s the perfect bride for you, why am I here?”

“She threatened to leave if I didn’t propose, so I told her to go.”

Lilley blinked. “I feel sorry for her.”

He barked a laugh. “Do not waste your sympathy on Olivia. She can take care of herself.”

“She’s in love with you!” She swallowed. “It was wrong of me to agree to this—this charade. When you’re just trying to control her.”

“I have no desire ever to see Olivia again,” he bit out.

She frowned, clearly unconvinced. “When did you decide that?”

His eyes met hers. “I knew it from the moment I saw you in that dress.”

Her lips parted in shock. It took her several moments to speak. “Um. Would you get me a drink?” she croaked. “And maybe some food? I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Certamente,” he murmured. “What would you like? A martini? A merlot?”

“You choose.”

“We’ll start with champagne.” Reaching out a hand, he cupped her cheek. “Wait here, if you please, cara.”

He felt her shiver beneath his touch, saw her lick her lips as she said with a trembling voice, “I’ll wait.”

He turned away, but after a few steps could not resist looking back at her. Lilley stood frozen on the edge of the dance floor, gloriously alluring in her red dress, watching him. She was surrounded by men who were already darting her greedy sideways glances.

Damned vultures. Alessandro scowled. He would hurry.

As he strode across the ballroom, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such need to possess any woman.

And he could have her. She was free and ripe for the taking. Yes, she was his employee, but he was the one who’d made that rule. He was the boss. He could break his own rules at will.

Alessandro thought again of the ten bedrooms at his villa. An image floated through his mind of Lilley spread naked on his bed, her full, generous mouth curved into a sensual smile, her deep-brown eyes looking up at him with a haze of longing and need. He nearly stumbled over his own feet.

And just like that, his decision was made. His body tightened as exhilaration raced through him. Employee or not, Lilley would be his.

Tonight. He would have her in his bed tonight.




CHAPTER THREE


LILLEY felt men in tuxedos jostle her on the edge of the dance floor, felt the annoyed glare of chic, half-starved women in black designer gowns around her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. Alessandro’s dark head towered above the crowds as he strode towards the bar, trailed by wide-eyed, adoring groupies.

And she was rapidly becoming one of them. Lilley exhaled. What in heaven’s name was she doing? He’d told her outright that their date would only be an illusion. And yet, all night, Alessandro’s eyes, his touch, had told her differently. Her body felt hot, her skin flushed and pink at the memory of his fingertips stroking her bare back. Of his fingers running lightly along her arm, his lips brushing her cheek.

Just being around him made her feel like a different woman. A bolder, braver one.

She didn’t know why or how. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. The way his hard, muscular body felt against her own. Maybe it was his scent, like exotic lands and spice and sunshine. He made her feel tense and tingly and hot, and made her soul feel all jumbled and confused.

He made her feel a hunger she’d never known, and every moment she was near him, the hunger grew.

Lilley swallowed, rubbing her tense neck. She just had to make it through the night. She’d keep her distance, keep her mouth shut, have some dinner and drink champagne for a couple of hours. Surely she could manage that? And tomorrow, it would all be nothing but a dream. On Monday she could go back to the file room, and Prince Alessandro Caetani would forget her existence.

She couldn’t possibly believe his interest in her could be real. There was no way on the green earth that Alessandro would choose Lilley over Olivia Bianchi.

I have no desire ever to see Olivia again. She heard the echo of his husky voice. I knew it from the moment I saw you in that dress.

An electric current coursed through her body at the memory. She couldn’t forget how he’d pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he spoke to politicians and football stars. She couldn’t forget how his hot gaze had slowly perused the length of her body when they’d left the boutique, or the way he’d protected her past the paparazzi. A strange new tension had consumed her all night, causing her heart to beat too fast and her breasts to rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths against the snug bodice of her gown.

Maybe it was a good thing Alessandro didn’t dance after all. If she felt his hard body swaying against hers, she might have hyperventilated and fallen like a stone on the dance floor. Every time their eyes met, every time he touched her, Lilley wanted things she could barely confess, even to herself.

“Lilley?”

Jeremy stood in front of her, his mouth agape at her tight red dress. He pushed up his black-framed glasses. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh. Hi Jeremy,” Lilley said weakly. Licking her lips, she glanced at the black-haired woman behind him. “Hi, Nadia.”

Her roommate’s face was the picture of misery. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Lilley,” she choked out. “We never meant to hurt you. We never meant …”

“Stop apologizing,” Jeremy told her. His Adam’s apple bobbed over his bow tie as he glared at Lilley. “We would have told you days ago, if you’d let us. But you’ve avoided us. Avoided me.”

Lilley’s mouth had fallen open. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I wish you’d just had the guts to tell me from the start you didn’t want me, rather than pawning me off on Nadia. Is it any wonder we fell for each other? You were never there!”

Lilley shook her head fiercely. “You’re just making excuses. You know I had to work! You’re entirely to blame!”

His gaze met hers. “Am I?” His eyes traveled down her full, bouncy hair to the knit dress clinging to her breasts. “You sure never dressed like that for me. You’re clearly here with someone you actually care about. Who is he, Lilley?”

It was time for her to lower the boom. Time to get revenge for their betrayal. As soon as she told them her date was Alessandro, they’d be shocked and jealous. Lilley opened her lips.

Then she saw Jeremy’s hand on the small of Nadia’s back.

It was a protective gesture, one Lilley had resisted every time Jeremy had tried to touch her. The truth was that, after one fun weekend at the trade show, their relationship had always been strained. She’d quit her job in France and moved to San Francisco to start this big new life, but she hadn’t done anything to pursue her dreams. When Jeremy had tried to kiss her, she’d pulled away. She’d avoided being with him, coming up with excuses to stay at work a little longer. Looking back at their relationship, Lilley couldn’t blame him for wanting to be with Nadia, a girl who actually had time for him, and who, as she’d seen to her shock that morning, actually seemed to relish his kisses.

She’d never loved him. The truth was, what hurt the most was losing her dream of the boutique. She couldn’t start a business without Jeremy, she didn’t have the remotest idea how to create a business plan or legally register her company or build a clientele. All she knew how to do was design jewelry that was funny and weird and definitely not for everyone.

She’d had such big dreams. And when he’d broken up with her, he’d ended them.

No. She’d done that herself, by never lifting a finger to pursue them.

“Who’s your date, Lilley?” Nadia said hopefully through her tears. “Have you met someone?”

Maybe Jeremy had cheated on her, but she’d abandoned and rejected him for months. Maybe Nadia had taken her boyfriend behind her back—but hadn’t Lilley begged her roommate to please, please make her excuses to Jeremy as she scurried off to work?

They’d been wrong. But Lilley had been a coward from start to finish.

Trembling, Lilley faced them. “I’m here with … with …” She swallowed, then lifted her chin. “A friend. I’m here with a new friend.”

She turned to Jeremy.

“And you were right,” she said. “I was never there. Not for you. And not for our business. I had all these dreams, but I was afraid even to try. I’m—I’m sorry.”

Jeremy blinked, and the angry light in his eyes faded. “I’m sorry too,” he said. “You’re a nice person, Lilley, sweet and generous. You didn’t deserve to find out about Nadia and me that way.” He gave her an awkward smile. “I always liked you. But after you moved to San Francisco, you just … disappeared.”

“I know.” Her throat hurt. Every time Jeremy had made an appointment for them—at a bank, with a potential investor, with a real estate agent—she’d suddenly had somewhere else to be. She’d hidden behind her work. Her fear had won. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you ever forgive me, Lilley?” Nadia whispered.

Lilley tried to smile. “Maybe if you do the dishes for the rest of the month.”

“I will. Two months. Three!”

“And I’m sorry the boutique didn’t work out.” Jeremy rubbed the back of his sandy-blond head sheepishly. “I still think your jewelry is fantastic. You’re just not ready to take the plunge. But maybe someday …”

“Right,” she said over the lump in her throat, knowing it was a lie. “Someday.”

Her roommate was openly crying as she leaned forward and hugged Lilley, whispering, “Thank you.”

Lilley’s throat hurt as she watched Jeremy and Nadia disappear into the crowd. Then she heard a dark, sardonic voice behind her.

“You didn’t tell them about me.”

She whirled around. “Alessandro.”

“I was waiting to see you take your revenge.” His tall, muscular body moved with a warrior’s grace as he held out a flute of champagne. “Why didn’t you tell them?”

“Because Jeremy was right. I never wanted him. Not really.” She took the champagne flute from his hand and said softly, “If I don’t have the guts to pursue my dreams, I shouldn’t be angry if other people do.”

“You could have made them suffer.” His dark eyes were puzzled, almost bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us,” she whispered, and took a long drink of champagne. The bubbles were a cold shock against her lips as she tilted back her head, gulping it all down. She closed her eyes, waiting for the alcohol to reach her brain and make her forget how she’d been so afraid to risk failure that she’d made it a self-fulfilling prophecy.

What was the point in her avoiding risk, if she ended up losing everything anyway?

“You’re crying.” Alessandro sounded aghast.

She exhaled, wiping her eyes. “No.”

“I saw his face when he looked at you. He could still be yours for the taking, if you chose.”

Lilley thought of the stricken expression on Nadia’s face. Thought of the way Jeremy’s hand had lingered protectively on her roommate’s back. Thought of the way Lilley had never, not for one instant, felt a single spark of physical attraction for Jeremy—something she’d never even noticed until she’d experienced the lightning sizzle of electricity with Alessandro.

She shook her head. “I wish them all the best.”

“God, you are so nice,” he whispered, pushing back wavy tendrils of her hair. “How can you be so—merciful?”

An unexpected bolt of pain went through her. Another man calling her nice. Another word for timid. Terrified. Coward. No wonder Alessandro had called her little mouse.

Blinking fast, she looked down at her scandalous red dress and sexy high heels. “Do you think I’m a coward?” she whispered.

“What are you talking about?” Taking her empty flute, he pressed his own full glass into her hand. “Here. Drink this.”

She looked up at him, her eyes full of unshed tears. “I shouldn’t have said that aloud. You must think—”

“I think nothing.” His dark gaze seared through her soul. “Never apologize for telling me what you’re thinking. You can’t hurt me. There is nothing between us, so you risk nothing.”

She blinked at him, feeling quivery. “Now you’re the one who is being nice.”

He snorted, then shook his head, a small smile playing on his sensual mouth. “That is one accusation I’ve never heard before. Now drink.”

Obediently, she took a sip. As she drank, she heard him muse aloud, “Delicious, isn’t it? I just bought the winery from a Brazilian. Cost me a fortune.” His lips curved. “But it gives me a great deal of pleasure, since I know it infuriates my worst enemy.”

Lilley’s eyes flew open as she pulled the flute from her lips. She said faintly, “Not the St. Raphaël vineyard.”

“Ah, you recognize it?” He smiled in satisfaction. “It once belonged to the Count of Castelnau. Now it is mine.”

“You don’t say,” Lilley said faintly, feeling sick. She’d heard Théo, her cousin and former employer, rage about losing that vineyard in a business deal to a Brazilian. It was only after he’d lost it that he’d realized its value. Typical, she thought. People were so much better at pursuing things they didn’t need instead of enjoying what they already had.

But the two men had competed over acquisitions with growing ferocity for the last five years, ever since Théo had bought a small Italian luxury firm that Alessandro considered rightfully his by geography. If he ever found out she was Théo’s cousin, he’d never believe Lilley wasn’t a corporate spy. Especially after catching her in his office, all alone in the dark!

Her knees trembled. He caught her. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking concerned. “Did you drink the champagne too quickly?”

She looked up at him. She’d left her father’s and cousin’s names off her résumé because she’d known Caetani Worldwide would have never hired her otherwise, in spite of Jeremy’s recommendation, no matter how honest or hard-working she might be. But telling Alessandro the truth would gain her nothing, and would cost her her job—forcing her to go home to her father and perhaps even consider his demand that she marry his employee, a man twice her age.

“Lilley?”

“I just need something to eat,” she managed. “I haven’t eaten all day.” She gave him a weak smile. “And I did jog a half mile.”

“Of course.” Taking the half-finished flute from her hands, he set both glasses on the silver tray of a passing waiter and gave her a sudden grin. “I’ve arranged for a private dinner of sorts. My driver has taken a selection from the buffet to the limo. We’ll enjoy a little picnic on the way home.”

“A picnic? In your limo?” she said faintly. She shook her head, feeling dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with champagne. With a wistful sigh, she looked back at the glamorous ballroom. “All right. I just—didn’t expect it all to end so quickly.”

“All good things come to an end,” he said, holding out his hand.

Reluctantly, she took it. He led her across the ballroom, stopping many times to say farewell to his friends and admirers before they finally escaped up the stairs, through the foyer and out the double doors.

Outside, beneath the hundred-year-old mansion’s shadowy portico, the August night was foggy and cold. “It must be midnight,” she murmured.

“Almost. How did you know?”

“Because all night I’ve felt like Cinderella.” She looked up at him, and gratitude, real gratitude, rose above her regret that the night was over. “Thank you for the best night of my life.”

He blinked, then frowned. Abruptly, he pushed her against a white stone column. She shivered as she felt the cold, hard stone against the hot skin of her back.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not taking you to your home.” He paused. “I’m taking you to mine.”

She stared at him in shock, hearing only her own hoarse breath and the rapid beat of her heart.

“You’re my employee. There are rules.” Alessandro’s eyes were dark with heat, his dark hair dappled with streaks of silvery moonlight as he held her beneath the shadows of the portico. “But I’m going to break them,” he whispered. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Staring up at him, Lilley felt as though she was lost in a strange dream. Tendrils of hair whipped across her face; the fabric of her dress moved languorously against her thighs.





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