by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
She whistled as the first item she looked at had a big label on the hanger declaring it to be Dolce & Gabbana New Season. Her fingers trembled. She knew from reading magazines at the care home how much clothes like this cost, and being expected to wear them terrified her. Her fingers snatched at the next garment: Gucci, then Valentino, Versace, Fendi… “This is ridiculous.” She took a step backward. She was covered in salt crystals and grit; no way should she be within two feet of this kind of haute couture, and she smelled like the sea. It was time to have that shower before she ruined someone else’s clothes.
She unbuttoned her sticky-feeling blouse as she went to what she assumed would be the bathroom and pushed the door slowly open. Soft lights in the ceilings grew brighter as she entered, and the wide mirrors, polished marble, and chrome glittered like an open treasure chest. Thick, white towels hung luxuriously from rails next to a vast sunken bath and an enormous curved glass shower room. “This is more like it.” She wriggled out of her sodden clothing and threw it with a slap onto the stone floor. The white marble was warm.
She yelped and jumped back in surprise at the powerful rush of steaming water that burst from a dinner plate-sized showerhead. Stepping under the pulsing darts of water, she couldn’t help but compare the shower’s performance to that of its owner. Lorenzo Ferrante…he might be ice cold and ruthless when it suited him, but there was nothing drippy or lukewarm about that man. She’d bet there was fire burning inside him somewhere, even if it only surfaced when he was in bed.
Bed?
She scrubbed shampoo roughly into her scalp, loving the gorgeous vanilla and lemon fragrance that now surrounded her, ignoring the snarky voice in her head that kept echoing the word bed. Shower, naked, slippery, hot, bed…
Once the jets were off, Lora sharply squeezed the excess water from her hair, twisting the strands together tightly until it hurt. She needed to smother the alarming seeds of sexual attraction to her employer, a man she was certain was a dangerous Sicilian gangster, and the man she was being forced to pretend she was in love with and marry. Her skin buzzed from the pummeling of the hot shower and the fresh citrus tingle of the toiletries. The heat was making her heart beat faster. She was annoyed with herself for allowing her mind to wander into forbidden territory. Perhaps she should have had a cold shower instead.
Back in the living room of her suite and wearing a fluffy complimentary bathrobe, Lora tipped three lingerie bags in a row onto the exotic patterned rug beneath the clothing rail. Silk underwear, all of it, with lace on some and shiny clasps embossed with logos. She grabbed a white set and let the robe fall to the floor. The cool silk of the lingerie felt fantastic against her skin, and a quick glance in a mirror confirmed it did incredible things to the shape of her upper body. She instinctively ran a palm over the cups to feel what was bra and what was her in the chandelier light. She shivered with excitement. Who’d have thought that a piece of hundred-euro corsetry would actually be worth the money?
She rummaged quickly through the hangers, hoping to find something simple to wear, something close to what she’d been wearing before she’d taken a dive into the Bay of Naples, but it didn’t look like that was going to be easy. There were a couple of outfits clearly designed to be leisure or gym wear, and they looked fabulously comfortable, but the choice of pink and white stripes or bronze and diamante velour made her wince. She wasn’t ready to stick out in a crowd to that degree yet, however much she’d be expected to as the future Mrs. Ferrante. A pair of black Gucci jeans was a much better choice, and they slid on like a second skin. Next to where the jeans had been hanging was a black cashmere Chanel twin set with cream piping, which was lovely, but she was hot and bothered enough, and the black lace D&G blouse next to it was even more beautiful…
She emerged from her suite five minutes later. Lorenzo was waiting for her in the lounge, his back to her as he poured dark liquid from a decanter into a crystal tumbler. She could hear the crack of alcohol hitting the ice cubes and the clatter of everything being swirled together. She held her tongue for a moment, captivated by his shoulders, wide and muscular under a gray and white-striped shirt that tapered into tailored black trousers. Sex on legs. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”
He turned and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Framed against the open floor-to-ceiling glass doors to the balcony, he looked astonishing. The black and silver sea outside and the ghost-like movement of white voile curtains in the breeze highlighted his olive skin and phosphorescent blue eyes. The darkness suited him; like the devil himself, he was a beautiful, deadly, and compelling creature of the night. “Not at all. Was everything okay for you?”
Her voice caught in her throat as his gaze swept over her. “It was perfect, thank you.”
“A drink before dinner?” He waved the glass in his hand toward an art deco drinks cabinet.
An impish voice inside her head dared her to ask for a martini shaken not stirred, or a vodka and Red Bull, but she smothered it with a taut smile before replying. “What would you recommend?”
He sent her a quizzical look. “What’s your usual?”
“Green tea.”
“How about champagne? Toni did send up this very expensive vintage Dom Perignon.”
The silver ice bucket glistened invitingly. What the hell, she could murder a stiff drink. “Make mine a large one,” she said and felt a twitch of apprehension as the corner of his eyes crinkled with amusement.
“I think we can manage a large one,” he murmured and slid a dark green bottle out of the ice. He cocked his head toward one of the long sofas. “Make yourself comfortable.” Within seconds, he poured champagne into a crystal flute and handed it to her. “There.”
“Thank you.” She was relieved he had chosen to sit on the sofa opposite, unlike his proximity in the car. She felt less vulnerable with an onyx coffee table between them. She took a sip of the bubbly liquid and felt a ripple of unease as he silently stared at her. Some small talk was urgently called for. “This is lovely.”
She heard him take a deep breath before saying, “Why did you lie about your name, Lorelei?”
“I beg your pardon?” Lora swallowed down a harsh gulp of champagne. Dread consumed her as his expression grew thunderous.
“You don’t honestly think my travel department would have compromised my safety by not informing me of an inconsistency between the passenger listing and your passport? They called me before we took off. Why don’t my people have your real name? The one on your passport?”
She felt sick to her stomach. Lying to a mysterious Italian businessman was undoubtedly a very stupid thing to do, but she hadn’t created this web of deceit. And Geoffrey clearly hadn’t checked over the fine print in all of this. “I forgot.”
His chest rose and fell, but there was no smile. “You forgot?”
“Or Geoffrey did, to be exact. He filled in the agency forms, if you recall, and it probably didn’t occur to him that my full name would be required, the simple creature. Lorelei is my legal name, the name on my birth certificate, but I hate it. It’s stupid. Would you want to go around being called Lorelei Indianapolis Coriander Pryce-Howard?”
“It sparked a security alert.”
He knew how to make a person feel small, but it wasn’t her doing. “I’m sorry about that. Are there henchmen outside now in case I’m an assassin?”
“Yes, there are, but not because of you. I think I could handle you myself if I had to.”
“Oh.” This wasn’t a game.
“And there are Special Forces trained marksmen positioned all around the hotel. We were followed across the bay; didn’t you notice? Not even the helicopter?”
Lora rubbed the palm of her hand nervously against the fabric of the sofa. “No, I didn’t.”
“Then my people are doing a very good job; you can relax.”
Relax? Yeah, right. “I assume you’re very disappointed with me.”
He silently topped up he
r glass. “I forgive you.”
“You forgive me? Just like that?”
“Why not? Your real name makes little difference now that I know the truth, but no more lies. Security alerts cost money and risk lives. Is there anything else I need to know?” He cocked his head to one side and smiled. “Anything that Geoffrey neglected to tell me?”
“No, nothing.”
He raised a dark eyebrow and gestured for her to continue, to think a little harder. “Are you sure?”
“I wasn’t entirely truthful when I answered your question about dependents. My mother, our mother, she’s in a care home and she definitely depends on us.”
Lorenzo sighed and looked into his glass. “Thank you. You have now confirmed the full security check I had done on you a few hours ago. My people could find no record of you having children or a current partner, either, so you’re not a complete liar.”
Dear God, she’d been spied on and had her life dissected without even realizing. The man was very powerful. And scary because of it. She could feel her cheeks burning and her throat drying up. “No more lies, I promise.”
“And your brother will take care of your mother while you’re away?”
“Yes.” Well, Geoffrey had said he would…
He nodded. “Then we can continue from this point on as if nothing had ever happened, draw a line under the whole confusion. I will also pay you a cash bonus at the end of our contract for your efforts. I don’t see why your brother should be the only beneficiary.”
“That’s very decent of you, thanks.” The champagne was already taking effect and the alcohol on her empty stomach emboldened her. “So can I ask a question now?”
He nodded. “Perhaps.”
“Why do you need a fake fiancée? And what’s so important that you’ll forgo hundreds of thousands of pounds to get one?”
He shrugged and took a slug of the dark liquid in his glass. “There is a wealthy Russian called Grigor Pontecorvo. I wish to do business with him, but he has a strange set of morals in that he will only trade directly with upstanding, married family men. When I was divorced by my ex-wife a few years ago, our negotiations dried up.”
Lora took a deep breath as she extrapolated the information. “So it’s a new wife you need in that case.”
“I am confident that a charming fiancée and the prospect of a winter wedding will be sufficient.”
“Because there’s no way I’d ever—”
“I’m not asking you to.” The muscles in his jaw rippled like harp strings. “And our negotiations so far have gone well. You are the last digit of the code, the key to getting me what I want more than anything right now.”
“Which is?”
“Which is none of your business. You just need to smile sweetly, look pretty, and tell the world how lucky you are to have me.”
She let out a puff of air. “Okay, I don’t need the details, I get it, but please don’t start calling me Lorelei. It’s an absurd name, and I do hate it.”
“But Lorelei Indianapolis Coriander Ferrante has such a nice ring to it…” He chuckled and gestured toward the open glass windows. “Come, Lora. Come see how beautiful Italy is, and forget about your eccentric names.”
She was relieved to take him up on the offer and led the way. The night breeze was warm and soft on her skin, and the view from his towering balcony was astonishing. The sky was a great bowl of deep velvet blue, pierced with thousands of diamond-white stars reflected in an impossibly dark sea. A kaleidoscope of colored lights encrusted the curve of Sorrento harbor like illuminated jewels layered thickly on a fragile, gold tiara.
“This is an amazing place.”
“I retain certain properties for the sheer convenience. I know the standards will be high and that there will never be any problem with bookings. I detest hassle. Money means you don’t have to put up with that kind of crap.”
Images of supermarkets, petrol stations, and NHS waiting rooms flashed through Lora’s mind. “It must be nice not to have to worry about such things, and it is beautiful here.”
“It still takes my breath away, too,” he said behind her.
For a moment, she thought she was imagining it, but as she closed her eyes to savor the fragrance of the sea and gardenia blossoms, his breath feathered the side of her neck. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the wobble in her voice. “How could it not? It’s a magical place, utterly captivating.”
“As are you.”
Her eyelids snapped open with surprise, her vision blurring for a second. Did she actually hear that correctly? “You don’t need to flatter me.”
“I’m not. I mean it.”
“Oh…” She shouldn’t be sucked in by his Mediterranean charm, however fabulous it made her feel.
“I especially liked the wet blouse look you had on earlier.”
A sharp sensation rocketed up her spine; instinct was placing her on high alert. “It wasn’t very comfortable.” Her nerves were being slowly shredded. “Your suit looked a bit trashed by the water, actually. Sorry.”
“I’m not offended.” He circled around in front of her and leaned nonchalantly against the stone balcony. “But there is something we need to get out of the way now that we’re here.”
“Go on.”
“Engaged couples tend to be all over each other.” Only the swish of the sea below could be heard until Lorenzo coughed lightly and continued. “So it would be better if we got our first kiss out of the way in private.”
He sounded completely relaxed about the suggestion, a stark contrast to the tension that stiffened her spine. Her voice sounded equally rigid when she eventually spoke. “If you feel it necessary.”
He smiled, but the movement of his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t want you slapping me round the face in public if I take you by surprise.”
He had it all worked out, down to the finest detail, it seemed, and nothing was being left to chance. Well, if he could be cold and mechanical, she could be an ice maiden, too. “I take your point.”
He reached out and took her by the hand. “So shall we?”
She swallowed hard as his grip tightened. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
She couldn’t stop herself from trembling. This incredibly good-looking, wealthy, powerful, and dangerous man was about to kiss her. He didn’t want to kiss her, she was sure; it was all part of his immaculate plan to deceive, but even so…
He pulled her closer, and his voice dropped to a whisper as his gaze fell to her mouth. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, and it was all she could do not to close her eyes in anticipation. “I’ve been looking forward to doing this all day, Lorelei Pryce-Howard.”
“Lora,” she murmured, desperately trying not to make her excitement obvious. “It’s Lora, remember?”
“Lora.”
A long finger traced a feather-light line along her cheekbone, and she felt a shiver of forbidden pleasure between her shoulder blades. “This is bizarre.”
“It’s a kiss.”
“Just a kiss,” she echoed, willing herself to stay collected as he dipped his head and the tip of his nose playfully brushed her cheek. “And it won’t kill either of us.”
“Of course it won’t.”
Then Lora’s world turned to starry, deep blue as her eyes closed and she felt the brush of his lips against hers. They were smooth, firm, and warm, and her mouth opened instantly to invite him inside. She couldn’t help herself; instinct overrode any self-control she thought she possessed. His hands slid down to her waist and pulled her flush against him, and her fingers threaded through the black silk of his hair. Tracing the contours of his skull and pressing her breasts firmly against his hard chest, it felt like falling from a great height in a dream but knowing you were going to land safely. The forbidden thrill and the shooting stars behind her eyelids were a heady cocktail of pleasure.
Lorenzo pulled back, and the night air replaced the buzz of his lips. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, an
d she felt a hardness pressing against her stomach.
The potent chemistry between them was undeniable. He might be out of her league socially, but he clearly wanted her, and all her senses screamed that he’d bed her in a second if she wanted him to. And did she? She could stop all this right now and bring it back down to strictly business as it should be, or…not.
“So are you,” she said in a low but confident, sex-drugged voice. “Although we should practice a little more before we go public.”
He leaned in and nibbled lightly on her bottom lip, his liquor-perfumed breath teasing her with the promise of more sweet, narcotic kisses. The tiny bites sent electricity to the apex of her thighs, sharp sensations that arced to her nipples and made her breathing ragged. They both knew what was going to happen next as she let his fingertips brush a nipple through the black lace and silk of her clothes. In silent collusion, she took his other hand and pressed his palm over the soft curve of the other breast. His words were a harsh whisper.
“Let’s go inside.”
Chapter Six
Without waiting for an answer, Lorenzo pulled her by the hand back into the penthouse. She held her breath when he swung the balcony doors shut and closed the white silk drapes. Her heart pounded with excitement and anticipation. It had been a long time since she’d done anything like this, but she wasn’t nervous or intimidated. Lorenzo Ferrante could demand she do anything with the power of his kisses, and she was unbuttoning her blouse already. There was no time to think, to talk herself out of this recklessness; sex with a virtual stranger. Sex with her boss. Sex with a man who lived in the shadows, and sex with the most attractive man she had ever met.
He strode toward her, his eyes darkening when he ripped at his shirt buttons. Lora gasped when he lifted her hands away and finished unbuttoning her blouse. His smooth, tanned chest rose and fell; she watched him deal with the tiny pieces of shell, and, for a moment, her gaze lingered on the tightly pulled front of his trousers. She so wanted this, wanted him, and the inappropriateness of it all made it even more exciting.
