His hands reached for her again and the gentle brush of his fingers down her cheek almost made her weaken. Almost. But she would not respect herself if she succumbed to the hard gleam in his eyes, even though she longed to let him show her how good they would be together. Instinctively she knew that sex with him would be amazing. But she also knew that it wasn’t enough for her. It would never be enough. She would want more from Santino than he was prepared to give, and he would destroy her.
She stepped away from him and hugged her arms around herself to replace the warmth of his touch when he dropped his hands down to his sides. ‘I think you should leave,’ she said huskily. A spurt of pride made her repeat the words he had said to her in Sicily. ‘We’ll forget that tonight happened.’
His eyes glittered. ‘I’ll go, if you are sure that’s what you want. But I won’t ask you again, cara.’
She stared down at the threadbare carpet when she heard him open the door. The sound of it closing brought her head up and she ran across the room and pressed her cheek against the wood, listening for his footsteps on the stairs. The silence stretched her nerves and she was tempted, so very tempted, to fling the door open and call him back. She would love to spend Christmas with him in New York instead of alone in her horrible bedsit. Since moving out of Lyle House, she’d been on a steep learning curve about how to fend for herself. A little part of the old Arianna longed for the luxurious lifestyle she had taken for granted. But she could not allow Santino to save her. She had to save herself.
Finally she heard him walk across the landing and the thud of his footsteps on the stairs faded away. Arianna continued to stand with her palms pressed flat against the door, telling herself that she had done the right thing to send him away. But it felt like a hollow victory.
* * *
Christmas was hectic, and Arianna spent the first few days of the New Year moving into her new design studio off Bond Street. The premises comprised a large workroom on the upper floor with a showroom below. She was glad to be busy so that she did not have time to think about Santino. But at night she lay awake, torturing herself with visions of him enjoying the festivities in New York with some gorgeous and no doubt sexually experienced woman—or women.
She missed their meetings at his office, which usually extended to them having lunch together. He was generous with his time when he explained business strategies to her, and his marketing ideas were quite brilliant. It was easy to see how he had become a millionaire tycoon, although she suspected that the real key to his success was his stubborn determination and a willingness to work eighteen-hour days. He had admitted that his busy schedule left little time for a private life, and Arianna wondered if it was an excuse to avoid personal relationships.
Why couldn’t she just accept that he did not want a relationship with her? she asked herself angrily. Instead of mooning over him like a lovesick teenager, she needed to focus on establishing her fashion label. She was excited about her new studio. The bigger workshop meant that she had been able to employ a seamstress and pattern cutter, while in the store she stocked a range of ready-to-wear clothes and offered a personal consultancy service. The rent on the premises in a prime central London location was exorbitant, but Santino had advised that she needed a visible presence in order to attract high-end customers.
She wished he were here with her for the opening day of the Anna store, but she hadn’t heard a word from him since he had stormed out of her flat ten days ago. She missed him desperately and asked herself why she had turned him down, when all she wanted was to be in his arms—and in his bed, she admitted. She could not forget the wild passion that had blazed between them in Sicily. Although Santino had pulled back, she was certain that the fire had burned as hotly for him as it had for her. But he had felt responsible for her when he’d discovered that she was a virgin. She should have told him, she thought guiltily.
The jangle of the bell over the door sent her hurrying through from the back office into the store, thinking that she had her first customer. But instead she was handed a delivery by a courier. Mystified, she opened the box and discovered an exquisite winter bouquet of white lilies, pale lilac-coloured freesias and delicate snowdrops. The perfume of the freesias in particular filled the room with a heavenly fragrance.
With the bouquet was an envelope, and Arianna’s heart missed a beat when she pulled out an invitation to a charity fundraising dinner and ball at a top London hotel as the plus-one of Mr Santino Vasari. The event tomorrow evening was being hosted by the prestigious Society of Business Entrepreneurs, and she told herself that Santino must have asked her to accompany him because he had a financial stake in her business.
She turned the invitation over and read the few words written in his bold hand on the back.
I will pick you up from your studio at seven p.m.
Please come.
Yours, Santino.
Her breath caught in her throat as she wondered why he hadn’t simply signed his name. She warned herself not to read too much into why he had written ‘yours’ when he patently wasn’t hers. But when she had put the flowers in water she propped the invitation against the vase and smiled every time she looked at it.
By the following evening she was a mass of nervous tension. Santino hadn’t phoned during the day to check if she would be going to the ball, and his arrogance—she supposed that he’d assumed she would jump at the chance to go on a date with him—made her question what she was doing.
It made sense for him to collect her from her new business premises, as it was near to the hotel where the event was being held. Arianna was wearing another of her own creations: a strapless black velvet ball gown with a tight-fitting bodice and a full skirt overlaid with black and silver tulle. Once again, the dress bore the hallmark of her romantic, fairy-tale designs. Her hair fell in loose curls, caught back from her face with a narrow velvet ribbon, and there was a sparkle of diamonds at her throat.
She stopped fiddling with her hair when she heard the ring of the doorbell, and her heart was thudding painfully hard when she ran downstairs from the studio and invited Santino into the store.
‘Hello,’ she said breathlessly, blushing when she realised how gauche she sounded. Like a teenager on a first date rather than the sophisticated woman she wanted him to think she was. He looked mouth-watering in a tuxedo, and she could see through the fine silk of his white shirt the dark shadow of his chest hairs.
He let his gaze roam over her, and the fierce glitter in his green eyes set her pulse racing. ‘Bellissima,’ he said softly.
She pretended to misunderstand him and lifted her hand up to her necklace. ‘They were my grandmother’s diamonds.’
His sexy smile stole her breath. ‘I wasn’t sure if you would come.’ His oddly rough tone eased her doubts and she smiled back at him.
‘I’ll just get my coat.’
‘Wait. Give me your wrist.’ He slid his hand into his jacket pocket, and Arianna tensed when he fixed a diamond bracelet around her wrist. It was an exquisitely delicate piece of jewellery, and she was aware of how much it must have cost.
She bit her lip. ‘I can’t possibly accept this.’
‘It’s your Christmas present, and also an apology for behaving like an ass the other night.’ He hesitated, his eyes narrowing on her face. ‘Did you have a good Christmas?’
‘A busy one. I volunteered at a homeless shelter and lost count of how many portions of plum pudding I served up.’
He was still holding her wrist, and moved to capture her hand, lifting it up to his mouth and pressing his lips against her fingers, sending a shockwave of heat through her. ‘I wonder if anyone knows the real Arianna Fitzgerald,’ he said wryly. His husky voice caressed her senses like a velvet cloak as he murmured, ‘I’d certainly like to be given the chance.’
Did he mean it? While she was trying to formulate a reply he took her coat from the hook an
d held it while she slipped it on. The frosty night air cooled her hot face when she followed him out to his car.
‘Did you have fun in New York?’ she asked in a determinedly casual voice as he drove them to the hotel. ‘I suppose you went to loads of parties?’
‘Not one, as it happens. I stayed with my sister and her fiancé. Gina is in the early stages of pregnancy, and suffering from morning sickness, so I was roped in to cook the lunch. Immediately after Christmas I flew to Devon to visit my grandparents and try to persuade my grandfather to employ someone to help him on the farm. He is nearly eighty and still milks the cows by himself.’
‘Will you take over the farm one day?’
He shook his head. ‘I suppose it will be sold eventually, unless Gina decides to take it on. The plan had been for my parents to run it, but after my mother died Dad had no interest in anything and spent the next ten years drinking himself to death,’ he said grimly.
They had arrived at the hotel and there was no chance to continue the conversation. But Arianna had heard an emptiness in Santino’s voice that made her realise how hard it must have been for him as a teenager, when his happy family had been torn apart by the loss of his mother, and because of his father’s decline into depression and alcoholism. Perhaps it explained his aloofness, she mused. The deep affection in his voice when he spoke of his sister showed that he did have emotions, but he kept them under tight control.
Arianna had attended many high society functions, but it was hard not to be impressed by the hotel’s magnificent banqueting room, which had been decorated with stunning floral displays. Five courses of the finest food were served at dinner, but she was too aware of Santino sitting beside her to do justice to the meal. She drank a little champagne, but the bubbles of excitement inside her were caused by the smouldering glances he sent her, and the brush of his thigh against hers beneath the table burned through her dress.
After dinner there were speeches by representatives of various business organisations and from the heads of the charities that would receive money from the fundraising event. Santino excused himself from the table—Arianna assumed to visit the restroom—and she was surprised when he walked onto the stage.
Standing behind the podium, he explained that he had set up a charity that provided help for injured ex-servicemen and women to find jobs. The charity, called Can Do, offered practical training in new skills, along with psychological support for people living with the mental and physical effects of war. Santino spoke movingly about his co-founder Mac Wilson, who had lost his legs in an explosion, and of the many other service personnel who had been invalided out of the armed forces and needed to find new careers.
Later, in the ballroom, he drew her towards him, one hand resting on her waist and the other at the small of her back as they danced together. The music tempo slowed, and Arianna’s heart raced when Santino pulled her even closer and she felt his lips brush across her brow. Their bodies moved in complete harmony, and with a soft sigh she gave herself up to the music, the moment and the intriguing, infuriating, irresistible man who was holding her in his arms as if she were infinitely precious.
She did not want the night to end, she acknowledged when the ball finished at midnight, and they were in the car driving through the brightly lit city streets. Perhaps he had read her thoughts and he shot her an intent look. ‘Do you want to come back to my place for a drink?’ he murmured.
She took a swift breath that did nothing to slow the frantic pounding of her heart. Instinctively she knew that if she declined his invitation he would not put pressure on her, but it would be the last time he’d ask her.
What did she have to lose? whispered a voice in her head. Sexual chemistry had fizzed between them all evening, and the way that Santino had been so attentive and charming hadn’t been an act. His desire for her was there to see on his gorgeous features and in the burning intensity of his gaze. He was no longer her bodyguard. She understood that his sense of honour had stopped him from making love to her when they had been in Sicily. But now she did not need his protection.
They had pulled up at some traffic lights and she turned towards him, her eyes finding his in the dark car. ‘All right,’ she said steadily. ‘But I’ve had enough to drink for one night.’
His slow smile sent a quiver of anticipation through her. ‘We will have to think of something else to do then, cara mia.’
CHAPTER TEN
ARIANNA EXPECTED SANTINO’S apartment to be as minimalist and edgy as his black-and-chrome office in The Shard. But his penthouse close to Tower Bridge was a stylish yet comfortable home, with beautiful wooden parquet floors and muted gold soft furnishings that reminded her of Casa Uliveto in Sicily. The huge bi-fold glass doors that ran the length of the apartment looked over the river Thames and across to the historical Tower of London.
‘Let me take your coat,’ he murmured, coming up behind her as she stood in front of the window and pretended to study the view of the city lights reflected on the black river. She allowed him to draw her coat from her shoulders and watched his reflection in the glass as he placed it over the back of a chair. He slipped off his jacket and bow tie and unfastened several of his shirt buttons, revealing an expanse of olive-gold skin and a scattering of black chest hairs.
The spicy scent of his aftershave made her senses tingle and a shiver prickled over her skin when he came back and placed his hands on her bare shoulders. The heat from his body was tantalising and she was aware of the inherent strength of his broad chest when he drew her against him. She felt the solid ridge of his erection press against her bottom, and her insides melted. His warm breath feathered along her collarbone as he murmured, ‘Have you changed your mind about that drink?’
She sensed he was not going to push her into anything she did not want to do and that he was waiting for a sign from her. Pulse racing, she turned around to face him. ‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ she told him huskily. ‘I don’t want a drink. I want you to make love to me.’
Something feral and fierce blazed in his eyes but he said in a measured voice, ‘I don’t do love, cara.’
The warning was loud and clear: Don’t expect more than I’m prepared to give. And she wouldn’t, Arianna assured herself. She would abide by Santino’s rules. But she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t explore the feelings he aroused in her, the hunger that coiled tight and hot in the pit of her stomach. She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his. ‘Then show me what you do do,’ she challenged him softly.
‘Dio! You drive me insane.’ The rasp of his voice sent flames across her skin as he pulled her into his arms and lowered his head. He claimed her mouth with a possessiveness that caused her heart to slam into her ribcage as he slid a hand beneath her hair to cup her nape, and angled her head so that he could plunder her lips.
The hunger in his kiss dissolved the last of her doubts. She sensed the moment his iron control snapped, and met the demands of his mouth with demands of her own as their scorching passion ignited into an inferno.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he said hoarsely when he lifted his lips from hers and trailed hot kisses along her jaw, then down her throat, moving lower still to explore the slopes of her breasts above the neckline of her dress. Her nipples were tight and hot, and she shuddered when he ran the zip down her spine and freed her breasts from the velvet bodice, cradling her firm flesh in his palms.
She arched backwards in mute supplication, offering her breasts to him, and could not restrain a gasp of pleasure when he closed his mouth around one taut peak and laved it with his tongue, before moving to do the same to her other nipple. The sensation of him sucking each rosy tip in turn evoked an ache in her pelvis, a primal need that consumed her and made her impatient for him to assuage the throb between her legs.
‘Do you have any idea how many nights I have been kept awake by fantasies of doing this?’ he growl
ed. ‘I wanted you with me in New York.’
‘I wished I’d gone with you,’ she admitted. ‘I want you to show me everything, Santino.’
He swore softly and pulled her zip all the way down so that her dress pooled at her feet in a froth of black and silver tulle. His eyes glittered as he studied her slender body, naked except for her tiny black silk panties and sheer black hold-up stockings with bands of lace around her thighs.
‘Beautiful,’ he said again, in a low tone that resonated with desire, before he scooped her up in his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. Arianna barely noticed the ultra-masculine décor of brown and gold. She only saw the huge bed as Santino tossed back the covers and laid her down on the cream satin sheets. She watched him strip off his clothes and felt a sharp tug of anticipation in the pit of her stomach when he pulled his boxers down his hips and his erection jutted thick and hard from the mass of black hairs at his groin.
The bedside lamps emitted a golden glow that highlighted the angles and planes of his face and gave a sheen to his bronzed skin. He was a work of art, so handsome that she felt weak looking at him, and weaker still as she imagined him driving his solid shaft inside her.
‘I want to touch you,’ she whispered when he knelt over her. She ran her hands over his chest, and explored the ridges of his powerful abdominal muscles, but when she skimmed her fingers over the tip of his arousal he groaned and captured her hand.
‘Not this time, cara. I want you too badly.’ Sitting back on his haunches, he slid one stocking down her leg, followed by the other, and then hooked his fingers into her panties and pulled them off. His eyes gleamed as he pushed her thighs apart and ran his finger over her opening, his mouth crooking in a sexy smile when he put the same finger into his mouth. ‘You taste sweet,’ he murmured, returning his finger to her moist folds, gently parting her so that he could slide in deep. All the while he trapped her gaze with his, and the feral gleam beneath his half-closed lashes made her heart thunder.
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