She squeezed the telephone tight in her hand, holding her breath while she waited for Sebastiano’s response. Finally his voice came. ‘Can you be ready at nine?’ She breathed out on a grateful sigh. ‘I’ll be ready.’
Sienna was learning the benefits of having her own staff on hand. A deep oil-scented bath had been drawn for her, plump warmed towels at the ready, a professional hair stylist had miraculously tamed her mass of fiery hair into a sleek updo that shone gold under the lights, and Carmelina had selected and laid out the perfect accessories to the gown she’d decided upon.
She should have felt relaxed after such royal treatment, but inside she felt a tight bundle of nerves that coiled and fizzed and all the while tangled tighter in anticipation. She gave herself a last look in the full-length mirror and smoothed the long satin gloves up her arms, wondering how Rafe would react when he saw her. The sea-green silk gown fitted her almost as snugly as the gloves, the skilful beading around the almost modest bodice-line catching the light like a city lit up at night. Her other gowns had been elegant and perfect princess wear. But tonight she didn’t want to play princess. She wanted to play seductress. He’d never seen her dressed in anything like this gown, and she could hardly wait to see his reaction. Then she spun around, glanced over her shoulder, and almost decided he never would.
The backless dress scooped low below her waistline, the beaded border hugging the dress tightly to the curves of her body and shouting look at me in the expensive language of designer couture.
She was no catwalk model used to strutting her stuff in make-up and high heels. She was a helicopter pilot more used to wearing overalls and a headset. Was she doing the right thing in trying to get his attention like this, or was she about to make a total fool of herself?
There was a discreet knock at the door. ‘Your car is ready, signorina,’ and the time to change her mind was past.
Carmelina nodded as she handed her the tiny purse that matched her shoes and a gossamer-thin wrap to hang from her elbows. ‘Bella,’ she simply said, nodding as Sienna turned for the door.
She descended the sweeping staircase to the ground floor, unable to slow her racing heart or calm her racing mind. Because if this didn’t work, if it made no impression on Rafe, and he still failed to see her as the woman she was but for the purpose he was marrying her, then what chance did she have? And what chance their marriage?
The car was waiting, as advised, in the pebbled portico, the duco of the vintage Alfa Romeo gleaming under the lighting. Sebastiano himself emerged to greet her, and for once the smile that greeted her looked more than duty-bound.
‘Signorina Wainwright,’ he said, with a bow, ‘I would be honoured to escort you to Casino de Velatte.’
‘You would?’
‘It would be my pleasure.’
‘Thank you. And I want you to know I’ll tell Rafe this was all my idea. I would hate for him to hold you personally responsible.’
‘On the contrary,’ he said, with a look that was fully appreciative without losing a hint of respect, ‘I bow to your wisdom. I think this is a very good idea indeed.’
Either Rafe’s secretary seemed incredibly attuned to her state of nervousness, or he was simply good at relating Montvelatte small talk and delivering it in easily digestible chunks as the car wended its way down the mountainside to the city far below.
Whether it was because he thought she needed time to soak in the details, or whether it was because he knew that by saying nothing she would have more time to dwell on—and panic about—the meeting that was to come, she neither knew nor cared. She was just grateful for the company and for the quiet reassurance his presence offered.
Before long the vineyards of the slope had given way to the poplar-lined river road, studded with gated estates and grove after grove of orange trees, and then they were in the city itself, heading towards the harbour on narrow streets squeezed between two- and three-storey buildings, or beside cafés where the patrons spilled out almost to the street.
Sienna gazed out of the window, watching the city and its people, dodging through the scooter-filled traffic, which carried elegant-looking dark-haired women and men with equally dark good looks, and sometimes what looked like entire families hanging on around the driver. There was colour here, life and action, and every trip to Velatte City she found more fascinating.
And then they were on the wide Boulevard Lombardi that separated the hotels and casinos that hugged the shoreline from the marina filled with the latest and greatest in nautical accessories. And there, in the middle of the strip, she could see the dome of their destination glowing green above the surrounding buildings.
‘Casino de Velatte is our oldest and most prestigious casino, often referred to as the jewel in Montvelatte’s crown,’ said Sebastiano from alongside. ‘The recital is being held as part of the Casino’s bicentennial celebrations.’
The car slowed as they approached, and land that had once been at a premium opened up before them in a series of gardens, each more beautiful than the next with their skilful plantings and water features, and cleverly designed to draw the eye up to where the gardens gave way to the towering forecourt of the grandest casino of them all.
Rafe hadn’t brought her here, and she looked at the building in awe. It should be a palace, she decided, as the car pulled up at the doors, the gleaming marble-tiled entrance way glowing gold in warm splashes of light from the crystal chandelier above.
Her door was opened from the outside, and Sienna stepped out into another world, a world featuring not just the opulence of the Castello, but an extravagance she’d never experienced before. Even over the scent of the perfumed garden and the salty tang of fresh sea air, she could almost smell the money.
She didn’t belong here.
In a moment of panic she turned back towards the car, but then Sebastiano was at her side, taking her arm, stilling her retreat. He exchanged a few words with the concierge and then was guiding her forwards, through the doors that would lead her to Rafe, and she was never more afraid in her life. She was no seductress. She was no princess. She was a fraud, and there was no way everybody wouldn’t know it.
Inside was even more opulent, and the glances they attracted more openly curious, and if it hadn’t been for the guiding hand at her elbow, she would have fled in a heartbeat. Instead she was led deeper and deeper into the building, skirting around tables surrounded by the rich and elegant, accompanied by the click and roll of the roulette ball and the hushed murmurs of encouragement to the wheel, past some of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen, wearing figure-hugging gowns, and bearing trays of champagne.
Ushered into a lift adorned in the casino’s signature colours of gold, burgundy and navy blue, she let out a long breath.
‘You’re doing fine,’ said Sebastiano, alongside her, reading her like an open book.
She looked over at him, surprised at his encouragement.
‘I was wrong about you,’ he admitted. ‘I was afraid you weren’t what you seemed, that you were wrong for Prince Raphael.’
The lift seemed to have lost all its air. She fanned her face with her hand. ‘And now?’
He smiled on a nod. ‘I think you will be perfect for him, and for Montvelatte.’
She dragged in a welcome breath. ‘Do you think he’s going to be angry about me coming here?’
Sebastiano tilted his head a fraction, as if considering his words. Then he smiled. ‘I think he’s going to be delighted.’
The lift doors opened and they alighted into another opulent lobby, the chandeliers smaller but no less intricate in their workmanship or spectacular in their effect. Twin doors loomed large across the lobby, doors that opened before them, spilling out a group of men talking animatedly.
Sienna stopped as she recognized the man at the helm, and the voices similarly died away as all eyes turned towards her.
At least, she could sense their eyes upon her. Filling her focus front and central was Rafe, resplendent i
n a dark suit with a burgundy sash that both served to show his tall frame and his broad shoulders to perfection. Sienna felt the primitive sizzle that accompanied Rafe’s every appearance, although this time it was tinged with an unfamiliar burst of fear.
So much was at stake.
So much depended on how he reacted to seeing her tonight.
Dry-mouthed she watched his eyes narrow in question, before he came closer, the dark of his eyes warm and rich and assessing every last part of her from her upturned hair to the glint of her satin sandals and every curve along the way. Lingering on those points along the way. Sienna felt her sensitized breasts swell under his scrutiny, her nipples ache as if he’d stroked them with his hot breath. ‘Sebastiano,’ he acknowledged, without taking his eyes from her, ‘what is the meaning of this?’
Sebastiano cleared his throat and murmured his low response, so low that the pack of men behind could not overhear, so low that even Sienna had to strain to catch his response. ‘Signorina Wainwright wished to accompany you to the recital.’
Rafe stared at her so hard she took a faltering step back and reached out a hand to Sebastiano for rescue, in case he might suddenly leave without her. ‘I’m sorry. It was all my idea. I … I don’t have to stay. I can go.’
And then she heard a sound and looked back, and when she saw where he was looking, she realized it had been Rafe who’d made that low guttural noise, Rafe who had spied the gown’s clever secret as she’d turned. And the darkness of his eyes gleamed so thick with passion and need that she could feel the heat coming from him, feel it insinuate itself into her flesh and sizzle along her veins.
For the first time, Rafe nodded in Sebastiano’s direction. ‘Thank you, Sebastiano. You may leave now,’ he said, before he slid his hand through her arm and turned to the openly curious audience behind. ‘Gentlemen,’he said, with an ease at handling an unexpected situation that she envied, ‘Let me introduce to you Signorina Sienna Wainwright, my companion tonight.’
The next few minutes were a blur of names and smiling faces and more hands than she could ever recall shaking in one day. Because it was the scent that coiled inside her now, that marvellous scent of clean unprocessed man. And it was the hand at the centre of her back that had her full attention, the heat generated by the fingers that were stroking her skin and stoking her own need along with it.
Someone pressed a glass of champagne into her hands and she clung to it like a storm-tossed sailor clung to anything he could grasp in the hope of staying afloat. With Rafe filling her thoughts and senses she was in danger of going under.
Finally they were led into a grand ballroom, the dimensions of which took her breath away. What looked like hundreds of people were already seated and waiting for the official party to take their seats—seats, Sienna gathered, that had had to be hastily rearranged in deference to her presence. A hush fell over the crowd as she entered on Rafe’s arm and stood beside him in the royal box, a hush that immediately descended into the whispered questioning of a crowd.
Rafe leaned closer to her as the strains of the Montvelattian national anthem died down. ‘Do you realise that wearing a dress like that you have well and truly set the cat amongst the pigeons?’
‘Do you mind?’
And he gazed down at her with such an intense look of desire that her bones were reduced to jelly. He lifted one gloved hand and pressed the back of it to his mouth. ‘What I mind most is that I have to wait until this recital ends before I can take you home and peel that damn dress right off you.’
CHAPTER TEN
SIENNA gasped, the power of his need echoing tenfold inside her, so that right then and there she felt as if he’d already peeled the dress away and that she stood naked and exposed in front of him.
He wanted her. That was good, wasn’t it? That was what she had planned. He had to want her if there was any chance it could develop into anything more than a marriage of convenience.
But her plan relied on her being the one in control, the one to steer him to her purpose. Right now, though, she was being carried along on a tidal wave of his making, and that wave was towering and powerful and all-consuming.
And she wasn’t sure she wanted the ride to ever end.
The recital had been interminable, the greetings they’d received on their exit taking for ever, and the purposeful silence of the car ride back to the Castello, during which she’d worried that he’d changed his mind, had been an agony.
But finally they were back within the fortified walls, where silence and discretion reigned, and Rafe took her hand and pulled her towards him. ‘What did you mean by dressing like that and coming after me tonight?’
She edged backwards, fearful that he’d somehow seen her plan as the desperate attempts of a woman who wanted to be needed, but his arms held her tight and close enough for her to know his intentions hadn’t changed in the least. ‘Who says I wanted anything?’
His lips curved into a wolfish smile. ‘You must want something, to wear a dress designed to make you look like both a virgin and a seductress.’
And she realized he knew nothing, only felt the physical need that she’d hoped he would, the need that was all she had to use to her advantage. ‘Which one are you?’ he asked her. ‘The virgin or the seductress?’
It was easier to play the part she’d assigned herself than she’d ever imagined possible. She let her body lean into his, every curve strategically placed. ‘You know I’m no virgin.’
‘So what do you want?’
‘It’s been too long,’ she told him, moving her hips just enough that she could feel his rigid length. ‘I want you. I want you to make love to me.’
His eyes flared with both victory and red-hot want, and she knew she’d voiced the right words to turn his passion incendiary.
And while that was her own victory, right now the desire to make love with him was the most pressing thing in the world, and that was her obsession.
She didn’t have long to wait. His mouth was on hers in an instant, his arms surrounding her, lifting her from the ground and carrying her up the stairs effortlessly, as if she were weightless. Which was exactly how she felt. Weightless. Without a care or a concern or a worry in the world except how to get this man inside her to fill this desperate aching need.
‘Christo,’ he muttered, as he surged up the stairs, ‘but you are driving me insane.’
Once inside his room, he spun her against the closed door, lowering her legs to the ground, clutching the fabric of her skirt so that it bunched in his hands and left her legs near naked. He cupped her behind, his fingers squeezing into her flesh so that she gasped into his mouth. He drank it down, making her gasp once more as his fingers slid under the lace of her thong and worked still lower, while the other hand liberated a breast his hungry mouth soon captured, sucking on one sensitive nipple, tugging at the very essence of her.
Sienna clung to him, her hands tearing at his clothes, pulling his head back to her mouth, wanting to feel more, never satisfied, always wanting more of him in her mouth, on her body—inside—more that she could feel, more of what he gave her with his touch.
He parted her then with his fingers, encountered her slick need, and growled so deep in her mouth that the sound reverberated through her soul. His touch brought flesh already exquisitely tender to flashpoint, and she squirmed against his expert hand, desperation driving her as his fingers toyed with her, teased her, entered her.
She threw her head back against the door, dizzy with it all, and through the wall of his chest she could feel his heart slamming, echoing the crashing beat of her own laboured organ. And still she needed more. Needed him inside her.
As if he read her thoughts, she felt a tug and a snap, heard the hiss of a zip, and felt herself being lifted higher, the heavy door at her back, the liquid silk of her skirt rucked up high on her legs, and the taste of him in her mouth, before he set her slowly down.
Wonder consumed her just as she consumed him, letting him stretch her, f
ill her, her muscles working to hold him there and never let go. She could stay this way for ever, and it would still not be enough. And then he moved inside her, and the connection sizzled and burned, and before she could fight to hold him, he was gone, balancing on the brink, his breath heavy on her throat as it seemed the world hung in the balance. And then he thrust inside her again, and this time it was better and deeper than before, the connection more powerful, the union more intense. She clung to him, his every thrust giving her more even as it expanded her need, turning it urgent and desperate and like a living thing.
She felt it rush towards her, unstoppable, inevitable, felt the same juggernaut bearing down on him, heard him meet it head on as he cried out on one final explosive thrust. Powerless to resist, she went after him, her senses exploding until nothing existed but sensation and colour and a world filled with tiny fragments of light.
He recovered first, his breathing still ragged in her ear as he lifted her into his arms again and carried her to the wide bed. He placed her down almost reverentially, kissing her on the forehead, before he turned to remove his jacket and tie and shuck off his shoes.
Sienna blinked back into consciousness and looked up at him, taking in his dark beauty and the stealthy, sexy way he moved, whether with clothes on or off, and felt the first fluttering premonition of trouble.
The sex was good—great—and if she’d wanted his complete attention, she had no doubt she now had it. If she was going to make an impression on him, if he was going to see her as a person, a woman with her own needs and wants, if she was going to make him feel, now was her chance.
And yet something was wrong.
Deep down inside her, on some fundamental level, something gnawed away at her; something wasn’t right.
Rafe turned then, capturing her expression as he unbuttoned his shirt, a small crease appearing between his brows. ‘Are you all right?’
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