The Ruthless Billionaire’s Virgin

by Susan Stephens

  For a moment Savannah couldn’t get her head round the fact that Ethan was standing next to her. And not just standing at her side, but supporting her. The shock of feeling his arm around her shoulders must have gummed up her brain, she concluded as he gave her a reassuring squeeze. She knew this must just be an act for the benefit of the press, but it was a pretty seductive fantasy.

  ‘I never saw you as a security-guard before, Ms Ross,’ Ethan murmured. ‘But you handle yourself pretty well.’

  Savannah felt a rush of pride and relief as she identified the reporter she’d firmly ushered out of the grounds standing in line with the others. They were quite a team, she thought wryly as Ethan dealt effortlessly with the hail of questions—much good it would do her as far as her non-existent romance with Ethan was concerned!

  ‘One question at a time, ladies and gentlemen, please.’ Ethan raised his free hand to bring everyone to order, and she noticed how his relaxed tone of voice set everyone at ease.

  ‘I’ll answer all your questions. At least—’ Ethan tempered with a glint in his eyes ‘—those I am prepared to.’

  This made the reporters laugh, and as Ethan turned to glance at Savannah she felt her body respond. ‘Of course, I can’t speak for Ms Ross,’ he added, with another of those dangerously addictive, reassuring squeezes.

  As the noise of conversation fell Savannah realised how tense she had become. Pressed up hard against Ethan, she had grown as stiff as a board. Ethan, of course, had no such inhibitions, and was perfectly relaxed in the spotlight. He felt great—fantastic, in fact—warm, strong and in control. The first surprise he launched was to announce that she had his full authority to say anything she wanted to say about their relationship.

  Their relationship?

  ‘Not that Ms Ross needs my authority to do so,’ he added with an engaging shrug. ‘She’s got plenty to say for herself.’ Ethan’s eyes were darkly amused as he turned to her for confirmation. He went on to agree to answer three questions. After which he was sure they’d all want to get away. ‘So choose wisely,’ he added, which brought another chuckle from the crowd.

  He’d got them in the palm of his hand, Savannah realised. The female reporters were practically panting to be first to ask him questions. They might as well have called out, ‘Choose me! Choose me!’ she thought tensely as a forest of red-gloss-tipped hands shot up. How were they supposed to resist Ethan’s wicked smile when it was sending seismic signals through her own system? And something told her this was just the tip of the iceberg where Ethan’s charm offensive was concerned.

  So, was she jealous? And since when? Since she realised she couldn’t have him. She might not be able to have him, but did she want other women going there? Now she was supposed to convince him she knew this was only an act for the press. Well, she’d give it her best shot.

  The first question came from a young woman, who moistened her lips and arranged them in a pout before asking him, ‘So, do you deny there is a relationship between yourself and your protégée, Ethan?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘Why should I?’

  ‘But Ms Ross said—’

  He didn’t even blink, though he couldn’t have had a clue what she had said. ‘Miss Ross was trying to protect me…’ As Ethan turned to look at her and his voice softened, his eyes held everything she could have hoped for.

  Except sincerity, Savannah registered, meeting Ethan’s gaze and holding it so that he was in no doubt that she knew this was all pretence. He got the message loud and clear. There was more humour in his gaze than anything else—humour and warmth—which was a devastating combination in such a dark, forbidding man, and all the warning she needed to keep her feelings for Ethan in check.

  ‘So you and Ms Ross are an item?’ the same girl pressed.

  ‘Take care.’ Ethan cut in like this was a game. ‘That’s your second question. Don’t you think you should give someone else a chance?’

  Reluctantly, the girl stepped back.

  ‘Are you and Ms Ross an item?’ A well-known wily reporter from a national television-station asked the same question, with more relaxed laughter.

  ‘Ms Ross has already given you her answer—and, before you ask me to confirm what she’s said, please think about your stories and how you’re going to flesh them out. The tycoon leaving the stadium with his star performer can only be old news now, right?’

  Ethan’s audacity made Savannah gasp. Was he going to write the press release for the reporters? From hunted to hunter in the space of a few seconds was not bad going, she reflected, even as the wily reporter pressed his lips down in acknowledgement of a worthy foe. ‘But you must admit it’s a great headline?’ he said, launching his own fishing expedition.

  ‘Is that question two or three?’ Ethan’s eyes were glinting with challenge, and Savannah knew he was enjoying this. Everything was a game to Ethan, a game he was determined to win.

  ‘Will Ms Ross be staying at the palazzo with you for long?’ The reporter waited patiently for Ethan to reply while the rest held a collective breath.

  ‘As long as she likes,’ Ethan said, turning to look at Savannah when she started to protest.

  Okay, so she was only trying to defend Ethan’s dignity—forget her honour; he clearly had. Pulling her tight, Ethan kissed away her protest, leaving her trembling like a leaf and everyone else gasping. ‘Which means Miss Ross might be here quite some time,’ he announced.

  By the time Ethan released her she was fit for nothing, and even the reporters were still reeling with surprise that the famous recluse had come out. Ethan, of course, was completely unmoved, and continued his verbal jousting as if nothing unusual had happened.

  So, what was he was up to? Disarming the press with more truth than they could handle? Even she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that. His behaviour towards her had to be an act. She should have known better than to try and fight Ethan’s battles in his own back yard. He was hardly the type to let her take over.

  As cameras swivelled to take a better shot of her, Savannah’s arms flew up instinctively to shield her face, and in that same moment Ethan stepped in front of her. ‘We have a deal,’ he told everyone firmly. ‘And I expect you to honour that agreement, as I shall. I answer your questions, and in return you respect our privacy.’

  Ethan’s back cut off Savannah’s view of the proceedings, but her pulse pounded a reminder that Ethan was a warrior who wouldn’t allow her to stand alone. That didn’t mean he felt the same about her as she felt about him, just that he was a natural born protector. She longed to tell the press that, whatever the future held for them, she adored Ethan Alexander and always would.

  ‘And your third and last question?’ Ethan prompted, reclaiming Savannah’s attention as he drew her close.

  ‘How long do you expect this liaison to last, Ethan?’ the reporter asked him, making the word liaison sound sordid.

  Savannah felt Ethan’s grip change and soften, instead of growing angry, and she realised that she could have walked away from him at that point, had she wanted to.

  ‘Don’t you think it would be more chivalrous if you addressed that question to Ms Ross?’ Ethan’s tone was neutral, almost as if he was condoning the reporter’s scathing tone. But as the reporter turned to her Savannah felt very strongly that Ethan had played some clever move.

  ‘Well, Ms Ross?’ the reporter demanded.

  Before she could answer, Ethan held up his hand. ‘You’ve had your three questions,’ he pointed out wryly.

  As a clamour of protest threatened to break out, Ethan smiled at her. ‘Why don’t we pose for an official photograph?’ he suggested.

  ‘Are you serious?’ Savannah said incredulously, still reeling from Ethan’s killer move.

  ‘Never more so.’

  As Ethan’s mouth quirked with familiar humour, Savannah realised she trusted him. It was that simple and that complicated, she thought, taking her place standing at Ethan’s side.

  That was the signal fo
r the photographers to rush to grab the best positions. They called for them to look this way and that, and fortunately smiling came easily to her. It wasn’t that hard to pretend she felt good pressed up close to Ethan, and when the photographers asked them to change position, and he brought her in front of him with his arms loosely slung around her waist, she could have happily stayed there for ever. How hard could it be to rest her head against the chest of the man she loved with all her heart?

  ‘There’s just one more thing, ladies and gentlemen of the press,’ Ethan announced when everyone had had their fill of them. ‘And my lawyers have mailed this information to your editors,’ he added. ‘My legal team has drafted an injunction protecting Ms Ross. It was placed in front of a judge this morning. Everything that falls outside what I have told you will be jumped on. And, of course, this order will protect Ms Ross when she leaves here and picks up her career. She will not be harassed or there will be legal consequences. She will be left alone.’

  He didn’t need to say more, Savannah realised, taking in everyone’s expression. There wasn’t one reporter there who was prepared to risk an expensive libel case that might put their job in jeopardy. Ethan had acted swiftly and effectively to protect her.

  ‘But you’ve told us very little,’ the wily older reporter complained. ‘Other than the fact that what we have on you and Ms Ross is old news.’

  As they looked at each other both men knew this was the end game. There was nothing left for the reporters to do but to pack up and leave. They did so without further comment, but as they reached their vehicles the older reporter turned and tipped his head in Ethan’s direction, as if acknowledging another man at the top of his game.

  ‘With the lives we both lead, it’s almost inevitable that our paths will cross again,’ Ethan explained as they watched the reporter walk away.

  ‘And you don’t mind that?’

  ‘Challenge always gives me a buzz.’

  So Ethan’s life would go flat now. And she hadn’t been much of a challenge for him, had she? Savannah reflected, remembering she’d practically begged Ethan to make love to her.

  His phone rang and he had to turn away to take the call. ‘Will you excuse me?’ he said politely.

  Savannah waited.

  ‘The England manager,’ Ethan revealed, sounding pleased. ‘The boys won their match and would like to come over for a celebration.’

  ‘Oh, that’s great news!’

  He looked at her sternly. ‘I was about to say, but—’

  ‘But what?’ Savannah cut in again.

  ‘But, in case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t do entertaining.’ Having slipped the phone into the pocket of his shirt, Ethan started walking back towards the palazzo.

  ‘But I do,’ Savannah called after him recklessly.

  ‘You do what?’

  Ethan stopped so abruptly, she almost ran into him again. ‘I do entertaining,’ Savannah explained, staying a safe distance away. ‘In fact, I love entertaining.’ The prospect of humiliation was very real, seeing as she was supposed to be leaving the palazzo, not arranging a party for Ethan. But what did she have to lose? ‘So, if you need a hostess, you’ve got one.’

  ‘No.’ Ethan quickened his step.

  ‘No?’ Prompted into action, Savannah ran after him. ‘Why not?’

  ‘For the obvious reasons.’

  ‘What obvious reasons? Ethan, please, just wait and listen to me.’

  ‘I said no, Savannah. Thank you for the offer, but there isn’t going to be a party here. Half the palazzo is shut up. It hasn’t seen the light of day since I bought it.’

  ‘Well, what a good excuse to open it up. It can be done, Ethan, just like my room.’

  Shaking his head, he strode away from her. ‘I’ve got business appointments.’

  ‘I could handle everything for you.’

  ‘You?’ He didn’t break stride as he headed back towards the palazzo.

  ‘Yes, me,’ Savannah said patiently, scurrying along at his side.

  ‘The boys can come over for a quiet kitchen-supper.’

  She felt like punching the air.

  ‘But I don’t do celebrations.’

  ‘There’s always a first time.’

  ‘That’s a popular misconception put about by an optimist,’ Ethan informed her, speeding up again.

  ‘You wouldn’t even have to be there,’ Savannah added hastily, forced to run to keep up as they crossed the courtyard. ‘Unless you wanted to be there, of course,’ she added, seeing Ethan’s expression darken.

  ‘If I agree to anything at all, it will be a quiet meal organised by my staff. And an early night for everyone,’ he told her sternly, reaching for the door.

  ‘Oh…I’m sure the squad will enjoy that.’ Savannah pulled a face Ethan couldn’t see as he lifted the latch on the big wooden door that led through to the utility rooms at the back of the palazzo.

  ‘So, what are you saying?’ He swung round to confront her. ‘You want to stay another night?’

  It would have been nice if he’d wanted her to. She swallowed her pride. ‘If it would help you, yes; I’m prepared to do that.’

  Ethan’s hum told her nothing, his expression even less, but she wasn’t done yet. This was one straw she wasn’t going to lose her grip on. ‘You helped me. I’d like to help you.’ She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  The very least.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘MY STAFF won’t need your help with a kitchen-supper,’ Ethan pointed out.

  ‘I’d like to do a little more than that for the squad.’ And when Ethan threw her a hard stare she added, ‘Don’t look so suspicious, Ethan. I’m not going to turn it into a bacchanalian romp.’

  ‘I should hope not.’ He held the door into the hallway for her.

  ‘Just some good food and hospitality.’

  ‘A kitchen-supper,’ Ethan confirmed, which wasn’t what Savannah had in mind at all. There was that cobwebby old dining-room to be brought out of wraps, just for starters.

  ‘Either way,’ she said, curbing her enthusiasm as more ideas came to her, ‘we should consult with your staff first, as this is very short notice for them.’

  ‘At the start of this discussion, tonight wasn’t going to be an event my staff would need notice for,’ he pointed out.

  True, but she had learned when to speak and when to say nothing—and what was it people said about actions speaking louder than words?

  She wasn’t going to build any bridges with marshmallow and fluff, Savannah reflected, rolling up her sleeves to help Ethan’s staff prepare the neglected dining-room. Beneath the dust sheets the furniture was still beautiful, and the upholstery, in a variety of jewel-coloured silks, was as good as new. Ethan had carved his own narrow path through the glories of the palazzo, looking neither left nor right, she guessed, until he’d reached the suite of rooms he had chosen to occupy.

  Later that day as Savannah straightened up to survey the finished dining-room she joined Ethan’s staff in exclaiming with delight. The transformation from spooky and dark to glittery and bright was incredible. But would Ethan share their pleasure, or would he be furious? Having given his tacit consent to a quiet evening in, he would hardly have expected her to expand that brief quite so radically. But the old palazzo deserved an airing and the England squad certainly deserved this.

  Savannah thanked each member of the household by name before they left the dining-room, knowing she couldn’t have done any of this without them. She had been accepted by the people who worked for Ethan, and their smiles were so warm and friendly that she felt quite at home. Which was a joke, because this was not her home. In twenty-four hours she would fly back to England and never see it again. That was her deadline for convincing Ethan that this scene of warmth, comfort and welcome didn’t have to end when she left, and that it was better for everyone who lived in the Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati than cobwebs, shadows and dust.

  Taking one last look
around before she left the glowing room, Savannah thought of this as her one chance to give Ethan an evening to remember, as well as to restore the heart of his palazzo before she returned home.

  Ethan’s chef excelled himself, working non-stop in the kitchen, and when the housekeeper had finished lighting all the candles Savannah thought she had never seen a lovelier room. With its soaring ceiling and deep, mullioned windows, the flicker of candlelight, the long, oval dining-table dressed with fine linen, sparkling crystal glasses, and Ethan’s best silver cutlery brought out of storage for the occasion, it looked quite magnificent. Ethan had sent a message to say he had been detained on business and to start without him. What he would think of her opening up the dining-room when he was expecting to hunker down in the kitchen, she could only guess. It wouldn’t be good news for her, Savannah thought, but what mattered more was that Ethan saw the possibilities here. There was a palpable air of excitement amongst his staff, and at their urging she had even gone mad and donned her neglected pink gown for the evening.

  Feeling a flutter of excitement at the thought that all that was missing now were the guests, Savannah slowly turned full circle one last time to take everything in.

  He was annoyed at being late, but it couldn’t be helped. The meeting had run on longer than he’d thought. The England squad was already here. He’d seen their coach in the courtyard. He could hear the sound of male laughter as he strode across the hall. He ran up to his room to shower and change, eager to get back down and support Savannah. There was too much testosterone floating around for his liking. It was only on his way downstairs again that he realised the sounds he could hear were not coming from the kitchen, but from the dining-room. He frowned as he retraced his steps across the hall. The room had been shut up for years…