The dark determination in his eyes, and the way his thumb continued to toy with her nipple, had the urge to say yes getting locked in her throat.
Even through the delicate fabric, his touch felt so sure, so certain, so confident. While her response—the urge to arch her back and offer him more—was so wild and instinctive it scared her.
Sleeping with Dario Lorenti would push her even further out of her comfort zone. What did she know about the sort of sexual liaison he was talking about? Even less than she knew about Europe’s cultural elite, frankly.
And that was before she factored in her incendiary response to his slightest touch.
The driving need, the desperate hunger felt far too needy—and completely out of her control. Because she didn’t know him. Plus, she was still anxious about being able to fulfil the role he wasactuallypaying her for. Adding sex to the mix wouldn’t exactly simplify the situation… And it was unlikely to cure her performance anxiety either, given he was clearly a lot more experienced than she was. Despite the enormous bulge in his pants, he didn’t seem to be anywhere near as on edge. This would still be just an ‘arrangement’ to him. And while a part of her knew becoming his stunt wife with benefits would help make their charade more convincing—would she still feel like a stunt wife if she slept with him, given that she was so much less jaded and worldly than him?
She covered her breast with a shaky palm, and his touch dropped away.
‘I… I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ she managed.
Or at least not yet, her needy body qualified. Not until she was sure she could control her emotions, the way he seemed able to control his so effortlessly.
Staying out of Dario Lorenti’s bed—especially if he continued to look at her as he was now, as if he wanted to devour her in a few greedy bites—was going to be an even bigger challenge than persuading Italian high society he would pickherto be his wife.
Instead of looking annoyed, or even irritated, he simply nodded. ‘As you wish, Tallulah.’
That harsh, heady gaze remained on her burning cheeks though, as he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a velvet box.
‘But there is something that I want you to understand…’ he continued.
He flipped open the box, revealing a beautifully crafted silver ring with a diamond solitaire in the centre. The gemstone glinted in the lights from the passing streetlamps as the car inched through the traffic towards the opera house.
Lifting the ring out of the velvet, he discarded the box.
He took her trembling fingers in his and slid on the exquisite engagement ring. It fit perfectly, because of course it did.
‘Whatever you decide, Tallulah, you are mine now, until the conclusion of our arrangement,’ he said. ‘And I will not allow you to wear something so revealing again…’ Those dark eyes met hers, the erotic promise becoming a tantalising erotic threat. ‘For anyone but me.’
She shuddered, her throat drying to parchment at the authority in his voice, her nipples so hard now they could probably drill a hole to China.
She should tell him he was only paying for her co-operation in public, that he had no right to dictate what she wore in private—for him or anyone else. But she couldn’t seem to unstick the words from her throat. Because no man had ever looked at her like that before. As if the only person he could see in that moment was her.
But when he lifted her fingers to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles, the heat in her sex rose to wrap around her heart, and she trembled violently.
As soon as he released her, she buried her fist in her lap, the delicate ring heavy on her finger, her skin burning where his lips had touched.
This wasn’t a real engagement any more than it would be a real marriage—whatever they decided to do in private. So why did his possessive statement feel so compelling, as well as completely outrageous?
Tali, get a clue.
As the car stopped on the historic opera house’s courtyard, the breath Tali had been holding expelled from her lungs.
She could see the photographers through the tinted glass, crowding around the red carpet laid out on the cobbled stones for the opening night. The Teatro alla Scala’s elegant and imposing façade dated back to 1778. All of Italy’s greatest composers had presented their work here, from Puccini to Verdi to Toscanini, she’d discovered while investigating what they would be seeing tonight on the internet. But somehow, as she stepped out onto the red carpet, and watched Dario buttoning his tux jacket to disguise the erection she’d caused, the flashes from phone lights and camera lenses, the questions shouted in Italian from the local celebrity hacks eager to ask about their ‘engagement’ and the thought of seeing her first-ever opera, were nowhere near as overpowering as the feel of Dario’s large palm resting on her back. Or the fierce need having a field day in her panties. Or the sparkle of the diamond engagement ring on her finger which was supposed to be a prop for their fake marriage but now felt more like a mark of his ownership.
Chapter Seven
Ten days later
‘THE FEATURE WRITERis with Signor Lorenti, Signora Whittaker,’ Aldo announced as Tali stepped from the lift into Dario’s palatial apartment.
She smoothed down the demure skirt-and-blouse combo the new stylist had recommended for the interview with Italy’s top-selling glossy women’s magazine. It didn’t do much to control her rampaging heartbeat though. She’d been stressing about this interview ever since Aldo had informed her it had been set up two days ago.
Of course, she had no idea why Dario—who, according to the few things she’d read about him on the internet, had never even given an interview to a tech journalist before now—would agree to something this intrusive. But, as usual, he’d deflected her questions the night before.
She hadn’t pressed because she was already struggling with a severe case of sexual frustration, which had kept her awake every night for over a week—becoming more persistent after each evening she had to spend in his company. In the last ten days, since she’d arrived in Italy, she’d only had one night when Dario wasn’t escorting her to some new event, or opening, or exclusive party. And annoyingly, that night had been worse than the others, because she’d actually missed the infuriating man. Which was preposterous, because they weren’t in a real relationship.
