‘We lived in the foster care system until I was seventeen.’
Foster care?
‘It wasn’t as bad as you probably imagine,’ she said, reading him correctly, and Sebastiano knew by her offhanded tone, and the way she avoided eye contact, that it had probably been very much worse than anything he could imagine. ‘So we’re both orphans,’ he mused.
She gave him a look. ‘So it seems. Hell of a thing to have in common.’
He paused, noting the way her chin jutted forward, as if she dared him to feel sorry for her. ‘You’re a tough little thing, aren’t you, Poppy?’
Her small chin jutted even further forward in a stubborn tilt. ‘I thought your plane was ready to go, Mr Castiglione?’
For a moment there was something naked on her face—pride? Determination? Vulnerability?—before she quickly masked it. Sebastiano felt a stab of admiration for her. This place she lived in might be small and run-down, but she’d made it a home, and it struck him that for all its negatives it was probably far more welcoming than any one of the show pieces he lived in. And why that bothered him he didn’t know.
‘It’s Sebastiano,’ he reminded her, watching as she crossed the room and disappeared through a door. She returned a moment later carrying a worn duffle bag.
His eyes narrowed on the bag. ‘That’s all the luggage you’re taking?’
‘Afraid so,’ she said. ‘Justina broke the trunk.’
‘Justina?’
‘My lady’s maid.’
‘Ah...’ He shook his head. His grandfather was right; this woman had a rod of steel running through her. And yet she looked as delicate and as untouched as a hothouse flower. ‘It’s hard to get good help nowadays,’ he agreed.
Her soft lips curled into a reluctant smile, as if she hadn’t expected him to play along with her joke. ‘You’re telling me.’
Then her gaze drifted from his and she looked so lost and alone he felt an inexplicable need to comfort her. An inexplicable need to take her into his arms, stroke her hair back from her face and tell her that whatever, or whoever, had dimmed the brightness in her beautiful blue eyes would find themselves on the wrong side of his wrath. Then he wanted to do what he’d wanted to do since he’d walked in and kiss the breath from her body.
He didn’t know what it was about her that drew him but there was no denying it existed. Or that he would have to control it. What was between them was business, not pleasure.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, clearing the gruffness from his voice.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be. Bring on the weekend!’ She picked up her bag and pasted a wide smile on her face.
Sebastiano walked over and took the bag from her. It barely weighed enough to be holding socks. ‘Try not to look like you’re going to the gallows, bella; I promise you, everything will be fine.’
‘You know, you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.’
‘Who said I can’t keep this one?’
She gave him a superior look. ‘Sorry, I forgot, you eat billion-dollar business deals for breakfast.’
Sebastiano couldn’t hold back a laugh, inexplicably delighted by this prickly female he just couldn’t get a bead on. ‘I don’t eat them, cara, I make them.’
She rolled her eyes, something no woman had ever done to him before, and grabbed her winter coat. She shrugged into it, the fabric of her shirt pulling tight across her small, high breasts. His groin hardened and he immediately tamped down on the reaction before following her to the door. A sense of foreboding warned him that the weekend might not go as easily as he had first hoped.
CHAPTER FIVE
POPPY STARED OUT of the window as Sebastiano’s private jet levelled out above puffy white clouds floating in a perfect blue sky. The tranquillity of the view did not at all reflect the myriad of troubled emotions swirling around inside her.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was bothering her but Sebastiano’s words—that if he were in love with her he’d know everything about her—had unfurled something deep inside her.
Nursing a cup of coffee the stewardess had just handed her, the words played over and over in her mind. She had never had anyone other than Maryann take a genuine interest in her, and in many ways that had been a good thing. Having had a mother who had either been borderline unconscious or just plain absent, it had fallen to Poppy to care for her infant brother and the experience had taught her how to take care of herself. How to take care of her own.
Unfortunately it hadn’t taught her how to pretend to be in love with a man she hardly knew. A man who until today had been her boss. She screwed up her nose. Not only had she never seen a healthy adult relationship, she had never been particularly good at pretending. It was partly why she and Simon had been shipped around between so many families on a semi-regular basis.
‘There’s just something about her,’ she had overheard one of her foster mothers say. ‘We can’t explain it.’
‘She looks at you with them big, innocent blue eyes of hers...makes a person feel guilty,’ another had said. ‘And that brother of hers? I didn’t know he was retarded when I agreed to take them on.’
‘Now you listen, girl,’ a particularly obnoxious foster father had warned, pointing a finger in her face. ‘When that effing social worker turns up, you make like everything is sweet. You do that and it will work out real good for you and your baby brother.’
Poppy felt that old tightness grip behind her breastbone. She knew now that the social worker had done her a huge favour in removing her and Simon from that particular family, but it didn’t diminish that old sense of failure she struggled to shake off. That old sense that the world was a harsh place and it was every man for himself.
And now she had to pretend she was in love with a man she was stupidly attracted to, but one who was a virtual stranger. At least on a personal level. And what if she failed? Would Sebastiano withdraw the help he had already started to give Maryann? Would he take back Simon’s new trainers?
It was hard for Poppy to trust anyone, let alone a man known for his ruthless exploits, and she knew that part of her anxiety about the weekend was in knowing that she was putting herself in the way of a man who could make an unguarded woman do stupid things. Stupid things such as fall in love with him and cry over the telephone when he ended their relationship.
Not that she was in any danger of falling in love with him—that kind of thing didn’t happen after only meeting someone a week ago—but she couldn’t deny that a part of her was intrigued by him. And not just because he was the sexiest man she had ever seen. It was his self-confidence and, yes, as much as she didn’t like to admit it, his arrogance. He was just so sure of himself, it automatically made her feel safe in a way she never had before. Then there was the way he looked at a woman. As if he knew all the ways to touch her and give her more pleasure than she could ever dream about. And that he’d enjoy doing it. Now, that was definitely appealing!
Poppy had never experienced any sort of passion, hence her virgin status, but when Sebastiano looked at her with those knowing emerald-green eyes she wanted him to do things to her. She wanted him to reach for her and put his hands on her, as she had imagined him doing the other day in his office. She wanted to run her hands through the mat of hair on his manly chest and press her aching body against his until she couldn’t think of anything else.
She shifted in the soft leather seat, an uncomfortable heat flaring between her thighs.
Even if he saw her in a remotely similar light, she wouldn’t want anything to happen between them. Unfortunately, to a man like Sebastiano she would just be another fish swimming in his very large ocean, one he would cast off as soon as he’d had his fill of her. Anyway she couldn’t afford to be distracted from her goals by a man who was only out for a good time.
She glanced at him working in the seat near the front of the plane. She should also be going over study notes for an exam she had to sit in a couple of weeks, so she pulled her ancient lapt
op out of her satchel even though she doubted she’d take in a word.
The problem was that she had responsibilities. A teenaged brother to take care of, and a plan to be top of her class so that she could get any job she wanted straight out of university. She didn’t need a man to derail her or, worse, weaken her. That had been her mother’s plight and it wouldn’t be hers.
And yet here she was, mooning over a man who broke hearts like they were china at a Greek wedding. She scowled at her notes. She wasn’t mooning, exactly, she was... She was... She sighed, her mind turning to the three wishes he had promised her. Accepting his deal came too close to relying on someone else for her liking, though at the same time she couldn’t deny that he had thrown her a lifeline. That was if he kept his word—and so far it certainly seemed as if he would. And that was another thing. She wasn’t used to that kind of follow-through from anyone other than Maryann and it made her feel jittery because deep down she knew it was most likely too good to be true.
She sighed. If only she didn’t feel so conflicted when she was around him. On the one hand, she wanted to push against all that dominant male energy to find the flaws in his armour, and on the other she wanted to lean into it and hope that there were no flaws. She wanted to lean into it, soak him up and learn what it felt like to be cherished by someone who would love her enough that he would want to know everything about her.
The latter being the most dangerous inclination of all, and one she could never afford to give in to.
‘Poppy?’
Startled out of her reverie, Poppy glanced up, not realising that Sebastiano had come to sit beside her. Immediately her nerves tightened and the blood fizzed in her veins. Forcing out a slow, relaxed breath, she collected herself. ‘Yes?’ she queried mildly.
‘I have something for you.’
Poppy stared at the oblong-shaped blue velvet box. ‘What is it?’
‘A gift to show you my appreciation,’ he drawled. ‘Open it.’
Reluctantly she did and gaped at him when she saw a stunning, luminous pearl surrounded by diamonds. ‘This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’
Pleased, glittering green eyes stared down at her. ‘I’m glad you like it. I think it will look perfect against your skin.’
Poppy stared at the jewels that twinkled under the plane’s halogen lights, her heart beating too fast. No wonder women fell for him hook, line and sinker. Rich, good-looking, generous and entitled, she reminded herself.
‘Please tell me these are fake.’
Sebastiano smiled. ‘I don’t do fake.’
Her eyebrows hit her hairline and she saw that he had immediately picked up on her train of thought.
‘Jewellery. I don’t do fake jewellery,’ he amended.
Poppy closed the box before she became too dazzled to give the precious jewels back. ‘If I wore these, I’d be mugged.’
‘You will if you continue to live in the neighbourhood you’re in now.’ He frowned. ‘I hope that third wish you’re holding on to includes a new home somewhere more salubrious.’
He hadn’t tried to keep the contempt out of his voice and it raised her hackles. ‘Not everyone can be born rich.’
‘I know that. But I’m giving you a chance to improve yourself.’
‘Oh, really?’ It was all Poppy could do not to tell him what he could do with his chance. ‘Why thank you, kind sir.’
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.’
He suddenly looked tired and Poppy suspected he was as tired as she felt. She knew from the legal team that he’d had back-to-back meetings all week and maybe their current situation had played on his mind more than he let on. Or maybe that was just her imagination going wild, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were because he’d followed back-to-back meetings with back-to-back sex.
‘I admit my neighbourhood isn’t brilliant,’ she said, forcing herself to be conciliatory. ‘But it’s not that bad either.’
‘I suspect you know how to make the best of a bad situation, bella. But I saw a group of teenage boys working the corner of your apartment block and they weren’t selling lemonade.’ He smiled once more, as if everything was right with his world, and no doubt it was. It was just hers that had become topsy-turvy.
‘They’re okay if you leave them alone.’ She handed back the velvet box. ‘Thank you, but I can’t take this.’ She sounded ungracious, and she hadn’t intended to, but she was a little disconcerted at his insight into her personality. She usually did try to make the best of bad situations.
‘Why can’t you take it?’
‘Well, for a start I believe this is usually the kind of thing you give after the relationship has ended; and for another it won’t suit my complexion.’
‘I bought it to suit your complexion.’
He had bought it? Not Paula?
‘Well, there you go.’ Her throat felt tight. ‘You do fall short on some things. I’ll alert the press. I can see the caption now: Sebastiano Castiglione, megalomaniac, human after all. It’d sell a few papers, don’t you think?’
‘What I think is that you have a very smart mouth and need to be put over someone’s knee.’
A hot flush flooded Poppy’s face as he glared at her. ‘Not yours,’ she murmured huskily, fighting the urge to squirm in her seat.
‘You are turning out to be one of the most exasperating women I have ever met,’ he muttered. ‘Anyone would think I was handing you tinted marbles tied together with string.’
‘That would be better. It would at least match my outfit.’
Without responding to her pithy comment, Sebastiano clamped his hand around her wrist. Before Poppy could take exception he’d propelled her to her feet and frog-marched her down the plane in front of him.
His touch sent tingles up and down her arm and she frowned. ‘You have to stop doing that.’
He pushed open a door and ushered her through it. ‘Doing what?’
Taking charge of her body. ‘Grabbing me as if I’m yours to push around.’
‘I’m not pushing you around.’
Poppy held up her hand and his came with it. ‘Exhibit A, Your Honour.’
Sebastiano scowled and released her wrist. ‘Exhibit B would be you being contrary. But at some point you have to get used to my touch. It might as well be before we land.’
‘Get used to your touch?’
Just the thought of it sent her senses into an alarmed spin. She had an image of him stripping the clothes from her body, and then his from his own, and it wasn’t a bad image.
Poppy took a step back and rubbed at her wrist, her eyes riveted to the enormous silk-covered bed that dominated the luxurious room. Before she could prevent herself, her eyes flew to his with apprehension. If he touched her now, if he kissed her as she had dreamt of him doing all week, would she have the wherewithal to deny him?
‘No need to look at me like that,’ he rasped. ‘I meant in public. It will look a little odd if you flinch or cover me in coffee every time I get too close to you.’
Poppy took a minute to think about where her head was at, reminding herself that she was here not because he wanted her here, but because he needed her here. Which didn’t mean she had to give into his every demand. Especially if she wanted to maintain her sense of self. ‘Then don’t get too close to me,’ she said matter-of-factly.
As if he was completely exasperated with her, he shook his head. ‘I brought you in here because I’ve organised some things for you, and you might as well sort through what you want here rather than cause a scene at the villa.’
Poppy followed his line of sight and noticed a row of glossy carrier bags with couture names stacked neatly along the wall. She frowned. ‘What things?’
‘Clothes. Shoes. Handbags.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Things women need.’ He frowned. ‘I texted Paula on the way to the airport. She took care of it.’
Heated embarrassment filled Poppy’s cheeks
. So that was the reason their take-off had been delayed. He couldn’t have made it any plainer that she was beneath him and she couldn’t deny the ripple of hurt that passed through her. ‘Really?’ She strolled over to the first bag and opened it up. Could a girl feel any more inept than she did already?
Carelessly pulling the first item she touched out of one of the shiny bags, she unwrapped the tissue paper and held up an exquisite blue skirt. ‘A skirt. Thanks. I never would have thought to pack one.’
‘I had to guess your size,’ he said, a little discomfited. ‘I hope it fits.’
Poppy smiled serenely. She intended to make him feel more than discomfited by the time she finished with him.
‘I’m sure Paula is exemplary at her job.’ Then a horrible thought struck her. ‘Oh God, you didn’t tell her they were for me, did you?’
His eyes narrowed at her panic. ‘No, I didn’t tell her that. And actually I’ve never asked Paula to buy a woman clothing before so yes, I hope she did a good job.’
‘Really?’ Poppy put a hand to her chest. ‘That makes me feel so special.’ She unwrapped another, smaller parcel of tissue. This time a demi-cup bra fell out of it. Perfect.
She let a soft smile touch her lips as she dangled it in front of him, gratified when his eyes darkened. ‘And underwear. I never would have thought to pack underwear either. It’s so lucky you’re around, Mr Castiglione. What would a girl do without you?’
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he registered her sarcasm. ‘It’s Sebastiano,’ he said, frowning. ‘And I take it from your tone that you don’t approve?’
‘Smart,’ she said, dropping the offending items back in the bag and slapping her hands on her hips. ‘But I packed my own clothes and shoes and women’s things, thank you very much.’
‘Damn it, Poppy.’ He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. ‘Stop being so stubborn about this. That duffle bag of yours was half-empty.’
Affronted, Poppy glared at him. ‘My duffle bag is none of your concern.’
A low-level growl emanated from his throat as if he had reached the end of his tether. ‘Any other woman would be more than pleased with what I’m offering. No-strings-attached jewels and designer clothes. An all-expenses-paid holiday in Italy.’
The Italian's Virgin Acquisition Page 6