Billionaire Brides: An Anthology

by Connelly, Clare

  “Sab,” he corrected, matching her step, bringing his body back to hers.

  “Sir,” she repeated, dropping her eyes to his chest. Misery seemed to float around her. She wanted to go with him. She wanted to put her hand in his and see what the future held. But it was a foolish, stupid, fake, childish dream. To hope or want anything with a man like Sabato Montepulciano was thoroughly absurd. “I’m very tired,” she said, only partially lying.

  “Yes, I can imagine.” He pushed his hands deep in his pockets. “Come and watch the sunrise with me. Tell me more about your … toddler’s palette, I believe you called it. Come and tell me more about you.” He wasn’t touching her, but the intensity of his eyes made her body tingle as though his hands were gliding over her.

  She stared at him silently, her eyes huge and her body at war with her mind.

  “And let me tell you something about myself, cara,” he continued gently. “At your age, I had nothing. I worked very hard, for a very long time to get here. I walked away from a trust fund to make my own life.” Emily tasted her lip with the tip of her tongue. “Determination might as well be my middle name.”

  “What are you saying?” She prompted huskily, though she knew.

  “That I want you to come upstairs, and so you will.”

  “You know, what you call determination is coming off a lot like arrogance.” The curtness was sucked out of her response by the way she was staring at him, as though he was her salvation.

  His laugh was warm, melted chocolate. “Is that a yes?”

  Emily bit down on her lip. “It’s … complicated. I work here. I don’t especially want any of my colleagues to see me strolling through the lobby with you.”

  His smile was bemused. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a cloak of invisibility.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold card. “How about you go ahead of me? If one of your colleagues sees you, they will simply presume you’re still working.”

  Her chest was lifting and falling with the hurried breaths she was dragging in. Was she really going to do this?

  “You are in charge,” Sabato conceded finally, a rare promise he’d never had to make before. “You stay as long as you are comfortable. Go when you please.”

  She nodded finally, slowly. “Okay.”

  As soon as she said it, she felt a river of warmth besiege her. It was the right decision. The only decision, she saw now, she could have made. Her acceptance was written in the stars; her destiny to go with him never in question.

  Emily had been in the penthouse before, but never as a guest. She had to rail against the instinct to empty the bins and neaten the sofa cushions. She was not overawed by the grandness of the room. Not as she might have been if it was her first time in the luxurious apartment.

  Four bedrooms, an enormous, rarely used kitchen, a plush, carpeted lounge area, and a dining space that overlooked Hyde Park all gave the suite a sense of homely comfort. Admittedly, the kind of home that would cost millions of pounds, she thought with a smile. She placed her handbag down on the carpet beside the door and slipped her shoes off. She lined then up neatly beside the bag, and then, she waited.

  Not for long.

  The door clicked only a moment or two later, and Sabato, enormous, larger than life, handsome, and sexy, strode inside. He walked purposefully towards her, his eyes glittering like dark diamonds in his face. His air of victory was unmistakable.

  “I thought, until I walked in, that you might have changed your mind.”

  Emily swallowed. “No.”

  “You are nervous.”

  Her soft smile was a mask of admission. “Of course. I think we’ve already established that this is hardly the kind of thing I do every day.”

  Sabato’s eyes flared wide. “And I’m very glad to hear it.” He put an arm around her waist, smiling when she trembled in response. He propelled her to the balcony, and led her out into the cool morning air. He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, surrounding her with his fragrance.

  “You’re still in a tuxedo,” she observed belatedly.

  “Indeed.”

  ‘’You haven’t been to bed.”

  He pressed a finger beneath her chin, angling her face to his. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Oh.” She blinked, and then looked away. It was too much. She felt as though her heart was about to burst from her chest.

  “You’re still nervous.”

  Emily shook her head. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think?” She stared out at the city beneath them, sprawling and twinkling, like a blanket at a fairy picnic.

  Sabato linked his fingers with hers and lifted her hand to his lips. He kissed her gently. “Try not to be. I don’t bite. Often.”

  Her blood rushed through her body. “I’m … out of my depth.”

  Sabato felt a small prick of compunction but he ignored it. With any other woman, he’d already be undressing her. He was employing patience and self-control. He had nothing to feel guilty about.

  He thought again of the boar he’d hunted, and released her hand. “Here is your other favourite time of the day.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” She turned to face him, and then cursed inwardly. How had she let herself forget how beautiful he was? How handsome and overwhelmingly masculine? She pretended fascination with a building over his shoulder. “It’s magical.”

  “Is it? Some would say, myself included, that it is merely a function of physics.”

  “Oh, dear.” She shook her head with mock disapproval. “How can you speak so ludicrously?”

  “Day follows night. And where they meet, there is a blending of opposites. Dawn and dusk.”

  “But that’s magical!” She challenged with barely concealed impatience. “Look!” She momentarily forgot to be nervous, as she pressed her body to his. She stood on tiptoes, bringing her face closer to his, so that their line of vision was the same. “Look at the stars. Not showing off against the black sky, but rather twinkling bravely against the dusk. Those stars are ancient; what have they seen in their time? What have they witnessed and bemoaned? Look at the colours in the sky – how can the sky be orange and pink? It is for the smallest moment that it has these colours, and all the more magic for how fleeting it is. Taking such beauty for granted is the beginning of the death of one’s soul.” She pressed closer, hoping that she could convince him. “And look at the city below. A city like London that is perpetually busy, never sleeping, is awed by the dawn’s rays. It’s quiet. It’s hopeful. It’s reverent. It’s perfect.”

  “And yet I find it hard to look at anything but you,” he said seriously.

  “Sabato,” she said his name for the first time, liking the way it felt in her mouth.

  “Cara,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around her. “This is madness. You are too sweet to be here with me, and yet I can’t help myself. I knew the moment I saw you that I wanted you. You are a virgin.” He lifted a finger to her lips, to hush her when she was obviously about to interject. “And I want, very much, to introduce you into the world you’ve been missing.”

  Emily was silent. A thousand and one thoughts sledged through her mind but she couldn’t grab a single one. She was terrified of herself. Of how badly she wanted to rip her clothes off and beg Sabato to make love to her. She swallowed anxiously. “I truly don’t know what to say.”

  His expression was inscrutable. “Don’t say anything. Let me show you what I am meaning,” his voice was huskier and his accent thicker.

  “Sabato…”

  He shook his head. “We are not going to sleep together now, cara. That is a long way down the track. There are many, many, many things you need to experience before that.” He linked his fingers with hers, and silently pulled on her hand. It occurred to Emily that she could say something. That if she wanted to leave, then this was her opportunity.

  But she didn’t. In fact, she de
sperately wanted to stay. There was not a single doubt in her mind. For the pleasure of being with Sabato, she would almost have sold her soul. And so she followed behind him, all the way into a bedroom that was bigger than her apartment.

  “I’m going to undress you,” he said quietly. His eyes searched hers, looking for her reaction.

  Emily was incapable of speech. She nodded, then watched as he stepped forward. Slowly, painfully slowly, he undid each button of her blouse, until it was open at the front, exposing the simple black bra she was wearing. His hands were warm as they ran over her stomach, and higher, to cup her breasts beneath the flimsy material. He circled her breasts until her nipples were hard beneath his thumbs, then he glided the fabric of her shirt from her body. Her skin was over-sensitised; every nerve ending in her body was alert and active.

  He undid the bra easily, giving her a brief reminder of how comfortable he was in this situation. She ignored the slice of reality. She didn’t need to think about Sabato Montepulciano’s previous conquests. In that moment, for that morning, she was his.

  His eyes were heavy on hers, his own desire apparent. “Lesson number one,” he growled against her ear. He caught her wrists in his, and held them behind her back. His mouth took possession of one of her nipples, and Emily cried out as the unfamiliar sensations caused an avalanche of new feelings. Her body was weak. She felt like she might fall to the floor. His stubble was rough against her soft flesh, the perfect contrast to his mouth – warm and giving. He dragged his tongue across her chest, focussing on the other breast. He pulled it between his teeth and rolled it until she was almost convulsing from the persistent waves of pleasure.

  “Please, Sabato,” she cried out, her eyes showing her confusion as the first hint of orgasm sent unnerving sensations spiralling through her body. “Oh, God, what is this?”

  He pulled on her wrists a little, so that she bent backwards, and he ran his tongue down her chest, towards her belly button. Yes, he needed her too; he perfectly understood her desperation.

  He undid her pants and lifted her to the bed in one smooth movement. He positioned her in the middle. “I want you to watch your beautiful dawn, while your body comes alive for the first time,” he commanded huskily. He disposed of her underwear, then moved himself, so that he could take her breasts in his mouth once more.

  Emily’s cries were shrieks in the air. She was an animal, reduced to her most base emotions and needs. A carnal lust that defied understanding groaned through her. It was not possible to express with words, it simply was. She dug her feet into the bed, her knees directed towards the sky. Sabato ran his fingers down her body, and scooped his palms beneath her buttocks.

  When his tongue, his powerful, distracting tongue, connected with her most private self, Emily arched her back and sobbed. “Sabato,” she said, a momentary flash of embarrassment at having someone down there immediately silenced by the total sense of need that was making all of her resolves crumble. “Shit,” she swore now, though she rarely did. Waves of something totally unfamiliar were making her whole body shake.

  “Look out the window. Every time you watch the dawn, I want you to remember this.” He was possessive, and it was incredibly erotic.

  Emily focussed her eyes on the burgeoning day, cresting over the park beyond the window. When she thought she was about to fall apart at the seams, he moved a finger gently inside her moist core, and Emily bucked forwards. Her first orgasm was a revelation. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she moaned, over and over, and dug her fingers into the soft quilt.

  In, out. In, out. She focussed on her breathing, and tried to bring it back under control. But her lungs were burning, her body was soaring, her mind was exploding. That was sex? That’s what she’d been missing out on? That’s what she’d been avoiding because she never wanted to end up as her mother had? Pregnant and alone as a teenager?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in another deep breath.

  “That wasn’t sex,” he said, and Emily realised she must have spoken the words aloud. “It was just an introduction.”

  Emily blinked her eyes open, bringing his face into focus. “I just met you.”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t make sense.”

  “No.” She nodded thickly. It certainly didn’t. Naked on his bed, just as he’d imagined her within moments of their first conversation. Relief flooded his system, but something else too. Regret? Regret that he’d taken this beautiful girl and made her just another of his sexual playthings?

  Oh, he hadn’t yet, but she was putty in his bed, and it was only a matter of time.

  The two sides of Sabato were at war. The moralistic man he was, most of the time, was attempting to drown out the Sabato who was renowned for his voracious sexual appetite. Just this once, moral Sabato was urging, stop thinking with your cock.

  “Do you want more, cara?” Sensual Sabato asked, bringing his body over hers and moving his erection, strong and obvious through his clothes, towards her entrance. He ground himself against her and was grateful for the barrier of his suit. God, he wanted to drive himself into her more than he’d ever wanted another woman. Were it not for the tuxedo, he suspected he might have done just that.

  Emily scanned his face, focussing on his mouth. That magical, beautiful mouth. “Is there really more?”

  His laugh was soft. “So much more. Stay with me today and I will show you.”

  Chapter 3

  He carried her as though she were made of glass. Fragile and unique. He held her cradled against her chest, and laid her in the bath. It was warm and bubbled, the fragrance was vanilla and orange blossom.

  Emily was struggling to keep her eyes open, and again, Sabato felt that stab of guilt. He should be letting her sleep, not driving her wild over and over again. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lashes two perfect black fans against her soft cheeks. “How old are you, Agnes?” He asked quietly, kneeling beside the bath. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and reached for the sponge. He lathered it with soap and began to sponge her exposed back.

  “Emily,” she murmured drowsily. “My name is Emily.”

  Sabato’s hand stilled. “Why didn’t you say so before now?”

  She smiled slowly. “There seemed to be more important things to focus on.”

  “I see,” he nodded swiftly, and resumed his sponging of her body. “It suits you.”

  “It’s my grandmother’s name. We call her Milly though. To avoid confusion.” Her words were weak from tiredness.

  “How old are you, Emily?” He repeated his question, adding more lotion to the loofah and transferring to her shoulders. Emily shuddered as he brought it down over her breast and washed them. Though his touch was gentle, her skin was raw from his ministrations.

  “Twenty two.”

  More guilt. More of the good Sabato chastising the bad. Her eyes lifted, but it was slow, as though the lids were weighed down. “And you?”

  “Thirty one.”

  She reached out and ran her fingers down his cheek. She stared at him thoughtfully, her expression impossible to decipher. Until she yawned, and then finally, he understood. He needed to let her sleep. No matter how much he wanted to keep making her face contort with pleasure, her body writhe beneath his, he needed to let her rest.

  He reached down and pulled the plug, then grabbed a fluffy towel from behind the door. “Stand up,” he commanded.

  “I don’t know if I can,” she half-joked, gripping the side of the bath for support. Her body was weak from the sensations that had been crashing against it all day.

  He made a noise deep in his throat and reached into the bath. He lifted her against his clothes, barely noticing that she was soaking him. He placed her on the end of the bed, then returned to the bathroom to retrieve the towel.

  Gently, he dried her, moving softly over her body. He wanted to stir her feelings up anew. At this proximity, it was almost impossible to resist moving his hand over her core another time. But she yawned anew, and he suppressed his own
desires. He lifted her again, this time, placing her in the middle of the bed. “You need to sleep,” he whispered.

  She nodded, wearily. “I should go home. I have things to do.” Her voice was slurred, as though she’d been drinking. She was so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Watching her was soporific.

  “What things?” He pried, taking advantage of her state of relaxation.

  “Work and getting ready for work.”

  Curiosity sparked in his chest. What work? Something other than waitressing? Housekeeping? “What do you mean?”

  “I have to be back at five tonight. To work.”

  And though he’d spent the last few hours driving her to the edge of sanity and beyond, he felt angry at the very idea of her working again. Another long shift in his hotel would mean she had to leave him. He shook his head. He couldn’t allow it.

  “Go to sleep, Emily. I will wake you.”

  “You aren’t going to join me?”

  He paused at the door. Now that was a seriously tempting offer. He looked at her naked form and made a couple of snap decision. Perhaps if he’d thought them through more fully, he might have realised that he was yet again allowing a certain part of his anatomy to guide his mind.

  But he didn’t. “I just have to make one call, then I will return.”

  Emily fell asleep with a smile on her face.

  He dialled his assistant’s number by heart. “Alexandra, I’m at The Hanover. I need you to arrange for a member of their staff to take the weekend off.” He realised, as he was speaking, that he didn’t know Emily’s surname. It was a common enough moniker, and it alone would not be enough to free her from her work commitments. His eyes landed on her handbag and he reached inside, pulling her wallet out. It was small and pale pink. Soft, like her. He smiled as he pulled her drivers licence out. “Her name is Emily Parker and I have arranged alternative plans for her weekend. Please make whatever excuses you need to. Oh, and Alex? Be discreet.”