by Kat Walters
She yanked her head free and quickly stepped back. His hand dropped to his side, but his eyes never left hers. They were searching her as though he could gain access to her soul through her eyes. As though he could discover all her secrets with that one look.
"Are you in the habit of buying women? Afraid you can't keep a woman if you don't pay her?" She retaliated recklessly. He flinched, but she ignored it. "Silly me. How could I forget the lovely Camille," her voice dripping sarcasm, she continued "clearly, money has nothing to do with your relationship with her." Isabella should have paid closer attention to the warning signs, but she was too angry with him. "You really think she'd be draped all over you if you had no money? You don't strike me as a fool, Alessandro." Isabella glared at him defiantly, but her breath hitched in her throat as she saw the cold anger in his eyes.
Alessandro noted the panic that flitted into her eyes and how she stumbled as she took a quick step back. He reached out to steady her. At least, that was his first intention. To steady her. The soft feel of her skin beneath his hand made him tighten his hold and draw her closer again.
"Feeling a little foolish yourself? Provoking me is never wise little mouse."
Alessandro couldn't help himself. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and plump, and all he wanted to do was silence her bitter mouth. Silence her angry barbs with his mouth. Her shocked gasp gave him instant access, and he slipped his tongue inside, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. Her body was stiff beneath his hands, her mouth unresponsive. He pulled her closer, gentled his kiss as he angled his head. He deepened the kiss, and then he heard it. The quietest little moan of acquiescence, and she was kissing him back, her lips moving beneath his as her tongue tangled with his own. She tasted so good, and she felt so right pressed up against him. His hands ran down her back, cupped her bottom, pulled her into him, against his hardening desire.
He heard her shocked gasp for a second time in one evening before she pushed him away. His brain was fuzzy with desire, but he made himself take a step back, out of arms reach. His heart was beating too fast. He had been so close to taking this woman to bed. This woman. Henry's daughter. Did he have no self-control? She was speaking. What was she saying?
"I'm your PA, Mr. DeLaurentis. We had a deal. I will not be sleeping with you. Unlike your other women, I do not trade sexual favors for money." Her green eyes were hard and angry.
Alessandro was still trying to compose himself but her words grated across an old wound, ripping it wide open. He'd kissed her because he was angry. He'd wanted to force her to admit this attraction between them, but the moment she had kissed him back, all his anger had dissolved. Her lithe, tight body pressed against his had been the sweetest, most delicious feeling he'd had in years. The way she'd arched her body into his in such artless desire, the yearning so clear in her eyes. Her arms had wound around his neck, pulling him even closer. He'd been moments away from slipping that ugly t-shirt from her body, hungry for a sight of what she was hiding beneath it.
Alessandro watched her now. She was still breathless, her face flushed. Desire was there in her eyes, but it was anger that shone the brighter of the two. Her words cut through the fog in his brain, the angry defiance on her face as she said them. He took another step back. There was no need for her to know how close to the bone she had cut.
How could Alessandro appear so calm when she felt like she was coming apart at the seams? The intensity of that kiss had terrified her. She had lost herself in him. The feel of his erection rubbing against her sex had nearly pushed her over the edge. She'd had to shove him away from her. Before she lost all control. Before she came apart right there in his arms. She'd been so close, so dizzyingly close to a climax, and now… now she was breathless, dissatisfied, aching… humiliated.
Clearly, he wasn't feeling any of this turmoil. For him, it had probably been a rather bland experience. Isabella lifted her eyes. His smile was cold, and it withered her, not that she would let him know that. His gaze raked her once and dismissed her. She flinched and dropped her eyes to the floor. She didn't want to see the scorn in his eyes. What had she been thinking kissing him back? As if he'd want to sleep with a woman like her. He'd been punishing her for insulting him. As if Alessandro needed money to attract women! Even without all his wealth, women would be lining up to sleep with him. They would line up just to look at him. And now he'd proved that she was no different. She was like every other woman. She'd fallen under his spell with just one touch.
Isabella heard him walk towards the door and pause there. She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to look up.
"Be in my office at eight. And mouse," Alessandro waited, and she held out as long as she could, but when the silence dragged on too long, she raised her eyes from the floor. "You don't need to worry." His voice was dry, the slightest lift of one eyebrow adding to his sarcastic tone. "I shall do my best to keep my hands off you." He chuckled and closed the door behind him.
Isabella stared at the closed door, unable to move. Her whole body felt raw and enflamed. Humiliation forced her to her knees. She sank down onto the floor, wrapped her arms around her waist, and dropped her head. Help. It was a silent plea. It went unheard.
Alessandro closed her bedroom door. He forced himself to walk away. It took all of his control not to go back in there and kiss the life out of her. Again. He knew she would give in. She couldn't hide her desire, but it obviously scared her. He could read it all in those too expressive eyes of hers. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and growled impatiently at the empty corridor. He didn't need this complication. She was Sullivan's daughter. The man he had sworn to destroy. The man he had destroyed. Where was the triumph now? All Alessandro felt was confused. How had he become responsible for not one but both of Sullivan's daughters? Was the joke on him? Instead of destroying Henry Sullivan, Alessandro was now responsible for his family. The mouse. She was to blame for this. She had insinuated her way into his life with all her talk of revenge. Helping her sister?
She was helping herself. She was just like his mother. Another selfish, manipulative English woman. There was no way he'd be able to sleep now. Alessandro retreated to his study and poured himself a large brandy from the drinks cabinet. Alessandro paused then, considering. He tilted the glass, swirled the amber liquid as he thought. No, she wasn't exactly like his adulterous mother. She claimed she wouldn't sleep with him. Was it the truth, or was that a game as well? He growled into his glass, knocked back the drink, and slammed it onto the desk. Maybe there was some justice in Sullivan's daughter working for him. He needed a PA, and working for him, she would be at his mercy. But what about Sullivan himself?
Sullivan had left his father with nothing. He'd gone after his business and ruthlessly taken everything else too. His home, his wife... The memory of the forced charity of an aunt left a bitter taste in Alessandro's mouth. The squalor of the apartment had been nothing compared to the change in their father. His father could have survived anything if their mother had stayed. He had loved her, and the betrayal had killed him. His love for her had killed him. Alessandro's mouth twisted bitterly. He knew enough now about women to understand his mother's choice. It was a simple case of survival of the fittest. His father had nothing to offer her once the money was gone and Henry had everything. It didn't matter to her that Henry was the reason they had nothing, that her own sons were going hungry. She had sent money for the first few months, but after Alessandro kept returning it, she eventually stopped. Love. It was nothing more than a negotiation. Give me what I want, and I will love you. Stop giving me what I want… except for his father. He had continued to love his wife, even after she betrayed him. He had pleaded with her to come home.
The sharp pain in that memory shocked him. Too many years had passed for it to feel this raw. Alessandro exhaled a shaky breath and poured himself another brandy. He sank into his chair, thoughtfully eyeing the drink in his hand. He took a small sip and sighed again. Having that woman in hi
s house was stirring up too many memories. The past felt too close.
Isabella knocked back her espresso and took her seat in front of the computer in Alessandro's study. He had already left for the office when she came down that morning, and so far, she had had a surprisingly pleasant morning. He had left a pile of work for her, and she'd had a quiet morning filing papers, typing, and taking messages. It had been just what she needed after… a restless night and hot dreams that left her feeling breathless and dissatisfied.
Now she was feeling calmer, hopeful that if this day was any indication, she might just survive her two months with Alessandro DeLaurentis. Isabella should have known, though, that her morning had been too easy. As if just thinking about him had summoned him. She looked up from the computer, and he was standing in the doorway watching her. All she could think about for one dizzy moment was how good it had felt to be in his arms. All she could smell was his scent, and all she wanted was one more kiss. One more chance to be the type of woman that Alessandro DeLaurentis wanted.
Did she have no pride?
"We're going out tonight. You're going to need an evening gown."
Isabella stared at him, uncomprehending, and the silence went on a little too long. Impatiently she gave herself a mental shake. Get it together, Izzy. He's just a man. You are capable of having a conversation with him. He's not going to bite. Well, he might. But then you might like it if he did. Oh my god! I'm talking to myself.
"Tonight, yes?" He didn't say it impatiently. If anything, he sounded amused, and then Isabella cringed, praying to every god there was that she hadn't actually said any of that out loud.
"What? I mean, why?"
"Why?"
"Why are we going out?" Isabella blurted, feeling her cheeks heat up again. She was destined to spend half her time with this man angry and the other half embarrassed.
Alessandro leaned against the doorway looking elegant and relaxed, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Little mouse," his voice was softly teasing. "No need to look so scared. I promise not to bite."
Oh god! Had she spoken out loud? Did he realize how much she hated that nickname? Was that why he kept using it?
"I'm not scared." Isabella raised her head a fraction, a stubborn tilt to her jaw. "Why do you need me to go with you this evening? Surely you're not short of a date?" She added with sufficient sarcasm. He only laughed, not bothering with an explanation. Typical. Men like Alessandro snapped their fingers, and the rest of the world jumped to attention.
"My driver is downstairs. He will take you to see a friend of mine. She'll help you choose something appropriate for tonight."
Isabella felt her mouth drop open and quickly snapped it shut. "I don't need you to buy me clothes."
Again, that arrogant smile and that all-encompassing glance. "I must respectfully disagree."
Isabella felt color flooding her cheeks but, this time, she refused to look away.
"I'm your PA, not your mistress."
Alessandro's smile widened. "I have no problem remembering that. Can you say the same?" A speculative lift of his eyebrows told her he knew the answer.
Isabella turned her gaze to the computer screen in front of her, effectively dismissing him. How much more of his mockery could she take? She felt so exposed when he looked at her like that. Alessandro knew she wanted him. He knew she was fighting her feelings… and it amused him. Her gaze strayed back to the door when he stepped out of the room but as a parting shot, he said over his shoulder.
"Hurry up, little mouse. The car is waiting for you."
Isabella glared at his departing back but bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from saying something she'd regret. She might not be his mistress, but she had promised to play the part. She had promised to pretend to the world that they were lovers, and if she was going to do that… the truth was she was going to need all the help she could get. No one looking at her now would believe for a second that she was Alessandro's mistress. The right clothes might not make her as beautiful as Camille, but they could only help.
Four hours later, Isabella was sitting in the back of the limousine, waiting for Alessandro. Four hours of styling… her clothes, hair, nails, face. She had been buffed to a perfect shine and could have sworn that she'd lost a layer of skin in the course of the afternoon. Isabella sighed and rested her head back on the seat before jerking it up quickly. Her hair. She patted it self-consciously but smiled despite her resolve to be cold and aloof.
Who was she kidding? She'd never been cold and aloof in her life. She loved her new hairstyle. It was still long, but the stylist had layered it, making it more manageable, adding a touch of glamour to it. She hadn't changed the color, but somehow her hair still managed to look different… softer and richer, more chocolate and caramel than mousy brown. She wore it was up now in an elegant chignon, and the style suited her.
Isabella fiddled with the strap of her dress. She hoped Alessandro would like it and then wondered why she cared. She shouldn't care. I won't care. Brave words. The moment Alessandro stepped out of the building, her breath hitched, her stomach tightened, and oh… why did he have to be so damn beautiful? He was dressed in a tux, his thick black hair glinted in the last rays of sunlight, and as he turned his eyes in her direction, she almost stopped breathing.
Alessandro couldn't see her through the tinted windows, so she gave herself permission to look. She ran her eyes all over his body, from his broad chest to his lean hips, his thighs… she felt heat pooling between her own thighs. Isabella gave a little whimper and bit down hard on her lip. Look away. Now. She whipped her head away just in time. She heard the door open and closed her eyes as his scent filled the back of the limousine. Help! This was going to be a long night.
The door closed.
Silence.
She didn't want to look at him.
She did want to look at him.
The car pulled away from the curb, and Isabella turned her head. Her gaze met those black eyes. No, not black, she realized suddenly, more of a deep chocolate brown. How had she not noticed that before? His eyes dropped from hers and slid over her body in a casual perusal that left every nerve in her body tingling. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples stiffened, overly sensitive as they rubbed against the fabric of her dress.
Isabella squeezed her eyes shut and quickly turned her face away from him. She angled her body towards the window, but she knew it was too late. He had seen her nipples pressing against the soft fabric of her dress. Could she hide nothing from this man? She wanted him. She could try to deny it, but… her body wouldn't let her lie. As though it was already in collusion with him.
"I believe I told Francesca no black." His cutting tone had her head whipping around. No amusement. No mockery. He looked angry.
"The dress is red." Isabella seethed, annoyed by his reaction despite herself.
"The cape is black." His eyes bore into hers, challenging her.
"I won't be wearing the cape inside, will I?"
His eyes narrowed on her, but then with a dismissive wave of his hand, he reached for his phone and proceeded to ignore her while he caught up on emails. Her jaw tensed, and she longed to grab the phone out of his hand and throw it out the window. That dismissive look was too reminiscent of the looks her father had given her as a child. She had tried to win his approval by dressing up and looking pretty for him. She had realized quickly that beauty mattered to her father. His wife was beautiful. Anna was beautiful. But no matter what Isabella did, she was always the ugly duckling in the family. Eventually, she stopped trying.
Frustration welled up inside her. It had been years since she had needed or even wanted her father's approval. She didn't require anyone's approval. Not anymore. She certainly didn't need the arrogant Alessandro DeLaurentis to approve of her.
Alessandro watched her handing over her cape. The offensive black cape. He really had told Francesca no black. He wanted her in color, but really, he had just wanted her ang
ry and fighting with him. His first glimpse of her had knocked the air out of him. He had known she was beautiful, but out of those ugly clothes, with her hair up in that elegant twisty thing women did with their hair, she had been simply breath-taking. The red dress enhanced her olive skin, skimmed down her body, clinging to her natural curves.
Alessandro's breath hitched again now. She slipped the cape off her shoulders, revealing the open back of her dress as it plunged downward, skimming her lower back. Damn! Every man in the room would be watching her. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Suddenly Alessandro wasn't so sure. He had brought her here to flaunt her in front of Rome's social elite, knowing Henry would hear of it. Now all he wanted to do was take her home and keep her all to himself.
Her shoulders were golden smooth, and he wanted to run his hands down those arms. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, press his mouth to that juncture between her neck and shoulder and taste her skin, smell again that light apricot scent that always surrounded her. Alessandro drew in a shaky breath but exhaled sharply as she turned. His mouth felt dry, and he swallowed nervously. Nervous? What was there to be nervous about? He was surrounded by beautiful women every day. She walked towards him, the movement revealing the side slit of her dress, exposing her thigh.
There was every reason to be nervous.
His breath stuttered. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of her naked thigh. Alessandro wanted to slide his hand up the back of that thigh, lift it up, over his shoulder, spread her open… startled, he realized she was standing in front of him. A frown creased her brow as she looked at him. As she waited for him to…say something? What did she want him to say? Desperate to claw back some control of the situation, Alessandro drew on his famous arrogance. He took a step back, dropped his gaze, and let his eyes wander down her body provocatively. Her blush spread from her cheeks and down her neck, and just like that, he was lost. Again. His desire engulfed him, and all he could think about was where else on her body she blushed.