She hadn’t even considered what kind of gossip she’d face back at work. Crap. She didn’t want to go anywhere near the Mantovani building on Monday.
And just like that Rachel made up her mind.
She flashed her friend a tight smile and headed to her bedroom, calling over her shoulder, “Fortunately, I’m not going to work. I’m going to Italy.”
An accident on the Brooklyn Bridge slowed Damiano’s trip to pick up Rachel Monday morning. When the car pulled up alongside her apartment building, she was already out front with luggage in hand.
Damiano watched as Rachel slid into the car beside him. She was all leg, peeking out from her usual pencil skirt, as she settled in.
“So glad you’ve decided to join me.” His words held a hint of amusement, because he’d never had any doubt that she would.
Not after that photo had popped up online Saturday night. Rachel was used to being in the shadow of the spotlight, not under its direct glare.
“Let’s get a few things clear first, shall we?” She settled in beside him, fastening her seatbelt. “I’ll pose as your girlfriend this week, Damiano, but there can be no repeat performances of what happened on Saturday night.”
He arched a brow. “Do you mean our kiss?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt and cast him a quick look. “We can’t become physically involved. No matter what kind of pretense we’re making this week you’re still my boss in the end, and I’d like to keep my job.”
“Your job never was, and never will be, at risk, Rachel. I hope you’ll always be secure in that realization.” He gave a faint smile as the car pulled away from the curb. “That includes whether we sleep together or not.”
Her eyes widened slightly, before narrowing just as quickly. “Not. The answer is not in your bed. I thought I’d just made that clear.”
“I was speaking hypothetically. We don’t have to sleep together, but do you not think my family will find it strange, Dolcezza, if we are not displaying affection publicly? Even if just holding hands, or a few stolen kisses?”
A flicker of unease crossed her face. “No, I suppose you’re right. And I can,” she swallowed visibly, “manage a bit of affection then, I suppose. But when we’re alone, the charade is over.”
“If that’s what you wish.”
Did she truly think she could turn the passion on and off that easily? He knew without a doubt that there would be no acting this week when it came to the chemistry between them.
The moment he’d touched her, with his hands or with his mouth, he’d felt her shiver. Saw the flash of awareness in her eyes, and just how hard she fought.
“You sound as if you’re mocking me.” Her gaze shot accusations now. “Of course it’s my wish.”
“Is it really?” He couldn’t help but push her further. “We’re grown adults, no? So why do we act like inexperienced children flirting. I enjoyed that kiss last night, and unless I’m wrong—which I highly doubt—you did too. If there is a passion knocking at our door, why do we not answer?”
There’d been surprise in her eyes when he’d said he enjoyed their kiss, but now her chin lifted defiantly.
“I’ll tell you why. Because, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re not really a couple and as I said before, I don’t sleep around.” She slid her gaze away. “And you’re right, there’s no denying we both felt something with that kiss. It’s unfortunate we opened that door, as you put it. But I’m going to insist it must remain firmly closed.”
His lips quirked. At least she wasn’t denying the attraction between them, but he still couldn’t help but feel irked that his sensible P.A. was again acting entirely...too sensible.
“As you wish.”
She clenched her hands on her lap. “And maybe you’re using me this week, but remember I’m using you too.”
The reminder of how this whole situation had come about made something dark take root inside him.
“Lionelli.” The name was bitter on his tongue. “Of course.”
“And you were right.” She crossed one leg over another, and turned her gaze out the window. “He’s already been in contact.”
“Has he now.” He kept his words even and casual, even if darkness swelled in his gut at her statement. Lionelli had already approached her, even after Damiano had warned him away? “And what did he say?”
“That he was sad to realize I was already involved with someone,” she paused. “And that I should be careful because it was you.”
“How perfectly cliché. Throwing stones in a glass house and all. Was that everything?”
“No.” She met his gaze again and her chin lifted. “He also said should things not work out between you and I, I’m to give him a call.”
Like a dog trying to steal a bone. Damiano gave a semblance of a smile and arched a brow at her.
“Well, it appears you have exactly what you wanted. After this week is over, and you’ve spent each moment pretending to be the lover of a tycoon, you’ll be infinitely more comfortable dating Lionelli.”
“I suppose I will,” she agreed.
It didn’t change the fact that Lionelli was still a womanizing bastard and Damiano didn’t trust the man an inch.
The limo arrived at the heliport along the Hudson River a short time later, and he helped her out of the car.
She was perfectly at ease, matching his stride as they headed to the waiting helicopter with suitcases in hand. This part of life was already second nature to her, the short ride in the chopper to his private jet.
He cast her a considering glance. Truly, she underestimated herself. She felt she needed lessons on how to date a tycoon sort of man, but was already so well-schooled from being by his side these past years. The fancy parties were just the frosting.
Lionelli didn’t deserve Rachel—not even if he wanted her for the long term. And maybe Damiano had agreed not to explore the forbidden passion with Rachel, but if he could do anything in his power to make sure Lionelli kept his hands off her too, then he sure as hell would.
Chapter 12
An hour into their flight to Italy, Rachel and Damiano were in their normal habits.
Rachel was enjoying coffee and a muffin, browsing through a newspaper, while Damiano worked on his laptop.
She glanced at him over her cup and observed his large frame furled into the plush leather seat on the private jet.
It all felt so normal, but it was anything but. This wasn’t her usual business trip with him. Technically, she was to have stayed in New York and worked from the office this week, as quite a bit of his trip was family related.
But now here she was, by his side, not as his P.A., but as his faux serious girlfriend.
Her stomach did little flips at that reminder, and she lifted her cup to take another sip of the drink.
Even dressed down in jeans and a black, cotton button-down shirt he had the appearance of a sexy Italian model on a lunch break.
He was really extraordinarily handsome, and it was frustrating that she could no longer keep blinders on to the fact.
Needing to keep some semblance of normalcy, she pulled out her tablet and opened the calendar, reminding herself of the business related activities Damiano had scheduled this week.
“Tomorrow morning I’ll confirm your lunch reservations both with the Capello brothers and the restaurant.”
“Much appreciated, thank you.” Damiano didn’t look up from his laptop.
A flight attendant entered the cabin to refill their coffee and place a plate of cheese, olives and nuts beside Damiano.
“Is there anything else I can bring either of you?” he asked.
Damiano gave a quick shake of his head. “I’m fine, thank you, Thomas.”
“Just another refill in ten minutes.” She offered a slight smile of appreciation at the man. “I need my coffee to function.”
“Of course.” A look of curiosity flashed across his face as he shot her and Damiano a look
, before he disappeared with a nod.
Damiano must’ve noticed it too, because he stared after the flight attendant’s retreating back.
Thomas had already heard the gossip about the two of them, Rachel suspected, and quickly lowered her gaze back to the tablet. Nothing they could do about that, except ignore it, right? Keep in work mode.
“And maybe we can see about shifting your Thursday meeting with Lorenzo Roncalli to earlier in the week, so you’d have more time in Milan with your mother.”
“I’ll consider it.” Damiano glanced her way. “You realize you’re accompanying me this week as my lover, not my P.A.”
“Pretend lover.” She would not blush. “And like it or not, I’m still your assistant. I can’t just switch that side off. Besides, how would you function without me?”
His lips quirked. “I haven’t a clue. But if we’re to convince the world we’re a couple this week, we’d best do a better job at portraying that image. Thomas likely saw the story about us and is skeptical of it.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” She glanced to where the flight attendant had disappeared. “But what are we supposed to do? Surely he wouldn’t expect us to be getting it on while on your jet?”
Damiano laughed softly. “I regret to say it would not be the first time for me.”
She hid a derisive snort. He certainly didn’t look like he regretted anything. Maybe appeared a little chagrined, but certainly not regretful. She snipped down the hint of jealousy that flared.
“Maybe we should start in smaller ways. Come here, Dolcezza.”
Her heart thumped at the soft command. “Wait, now?”
“Now.”
The cabin of the jet was spacious compared to a commercial airliner. It was nearly wide open with only four plush leather chairs, a couch at each end, and a curved table.
But as she set down her tablet and stood, it felt as if the space closed in on her. Still, she made herself ignore the flare of panic and cross the aisle to his seat.
“Okay. What now?”
He reached out and caught her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. She tried to keep her expression indifferent, even as her pulse raced.
One quick tug from him and she found herself sitting in his lap. While she nearly jumped right back up like a cat falling in a tub of water, she forced herself to stay. Still, every muscle in her body coiled and she caught her breath.
She knew exactly what he was doing. The point he was making in a very intimate way. He wanted her to become attuned to a physical closeness between them, so she wouldn’t look like she was a frozen statue every time he touched her. Otherwise it would look a little odd if they were trying to convince people for the week that they were a couple.
“First, I want you to relax.” His words were gentle and soft.
She had to consciously will the muscles in her body to loosen. He stroked his finger over her knuckles and warmth rushed through her.
“Very good.” With his free hand, he reached for an olive. “Second, I’d like you to sample one of these.”
She moved to take it from him, but he gave a brisk shake of his head.
“Not like that, Dolcezza.” His voice dropped an octave. “Open your mouth.”
She may as well have been his puppet as she parted her lips enough for him to slide the green olive into her mouth. It was salty and slippery with oil, and as her teeth gently closed over it, her tongue brushed against his finger.
The rise of his chest was so slight, she could’ve imagined it, but there was no mistaking the way his gaze darkened as he stared at her mouth.
He withdrew his fingers so she could chew and swallow the bite. She couldn’t begin to focus on the olive, though, because there was the sudden urge to turn her head and suck his fingers—resting on the side of her mouth—back inside. To suck them clean of any of the remaining oil from the olive.
“Good, no?”
“Very good.” Her voice sounded throaty to her own ears. Like a woman half-drugged with arousal.
And she was. Oh god, she was so completely in over her head with Damiano, because at this moment she couldn’t figure out what was real and what was pretend.
What she did know was there was a growing ache between her thighs, and the man she wanted to fill it was the man she’d sworn to never fall for.
Damiano reached for another olive and placed it again between Rachel’s pink, parted lips.
They were shiny from the bit of oil, and he knew if he dipped his head to taste the lusciousness of her mouth, she would be slipper and salty.
The blood in his body heated, moved south to his groin. He clenched his jaw, willing himself not to get hard while she sat on his lap. But it was quite difficult, with her curvy bottom resting right atop him.
He’d only meant for this to be a quick lesson. To keep her here until she grew comfortable with such a display of apparent affection.
He hadn’t expected the flash of need in her eyes as she’d claimed the olive from his fingers. Her tongue had grazed him and the images that had rushed through his head had been filthy.
Rachel on her knees before him, using her mouth on the most needy part of him.
Her gaze locked on his and he saw the awareness in her eyes. She swallowed her bite and then turned her head, just slightly, and flicked her tongue over the pad of his finger. Not an accident this time, but deliberate.
His nostrils flared and there was no stopping the lurch of his cock against her bottom. She’d felt it, because she inhaled sharply before giving the faintest little moan.
He moved his index finger back to her lips and then pushed it inside. He waited for her to stop him, to make a sound of protest, but there was none. Instead her mouth closed around the digit and she sucked it.
Merda.
If she didn’t stop that he’d have her panties off and her skirt around her waist in moments. He pulled his finger from her mouth, but only so he could cover her lips with his own.
There was no tentativeness as he kissed her, but a deep, commanding exploration. He demanded her submission. Her response. And she gave it. Their tongues tangled and she tilted her head back, allowing him deeper access to the addictive sweetness.
He adjusted her on his lap so that she nearly straddled him now. Her skirt hiked up as one of her legs dangled over his thigh, and her other knee rested on the seat beside his hip.
His control was slipping. Usually he was so damn careful with it, but right now his lust was fierce. Demanding it be satiated.
He wanted her. Desperately and more than he could ever remember wanting a woman.
The voice of reason tried to surface in the back of his head, but he ignored it as he became a slave to the passion between them. He unfastened the buttons on her blouse, wishing she would stop him. That she could somehow summon the control that he’d shockingly lost. But when he pushed the fabric of her blouse off her shoulders, she wiggled to help him.
He lifted his head, just for a split second, to take in the white lace bra and white pale curves, before he groaned and buried his face between them.
She cried out, delving her hands into his hair and holding him against her. He kissed the delicate tops of her breasts. Loving their softness and the faint scent of her floral perfume.
Blindly he reached up to tug the cup off one mound, freeing her and a tight berry colored nipple. His mouth closed over her, drawing the tip deep into his mouth, and her back arched as she cried out.
Her fingers tugged in his hair and her hips ground blatantly against his fully hard erection.
He lifted his hips, letting her feel him through his jeans, and loving the soft cry she made. He smiled against her breast and suckled her deeper.
He slid his hand to her thigh and the sensible skirt she wore. Once he reached the hem, he began tug it up. Higher up her thighs until it revealed the roundness of her bottom.
With his mouth still on her nipple, he reached down with both hands to cup her ass. She moved on him, murm
uring little pleas while clutching his head to her breast.
The sound of footsteps came in the cabin, and then retreated just as quickly.
Damiano lifted his head, reluctantly releasing her flesh in time to watch Thomas disappear out of the cabin with the craft of coffee in his hand.
The fingers that had been clutching his hair loosened as Rachel pulled away suddenly.
“Oh my god.” Her words were dazed. “Please tell me someone didn’t just see us like this?”
Damiano gave a soft grunt as he began to fasten her blouse back up. “He only saw your back, if that helps.”
“I’m not sure it does.” She groaned and pushed his hand away, continuing the process of buttoning up alone. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
He was struggling to accept his momentary loss of willpower as well.
“How did we go from me sampling an olive to this?” The question may not have been directed at him, it was so laced with disbelief and half muttered under her breath.
“If I might point out, I believe it was that finger sucking bit.”
Her mouth opened and her eyes flashed a denial, but then she shook her head. “Well you shouldn’t have pulled me onto your lap and then popped olives in my mouth.”
“Perhaps not.” His lips twitched. “Needless to say I don’t think we’ll have any trouble convincing anyone we’re together this week.”
“Agreed. Fortunately, lust between us is easy enough, and we can use it to our advantage. But perhaps we should keep the public displays of affection to a minimum?” She wouldn’t meet his gaze again. “To avoid this, um, from happening again or going further than we intended?”
“You’re very open-minded and calm about this lust business.” He sat back in his chair and observed her through narrowed eyes. “As if this kind of thing is an everyday occurrence for you.”
“Even if it was, you’d have no right to judge.” She admonished, but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Didn’t you just admit that this wasn’t the first time you’ve gotten a bit hot and heavy with someone on your jet?”
Taught by the Tycoon Page 7