His Poor Little Rich Girl

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  She felt her cheeks glow from his compliment and lowered her gaze. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But I wonder if I should eat what you have prepared for me,’ he added.

  Rachel looked at him in confusion. ‘Why do you say that?’

  He gave her a look that was rueful. ‘I was rather brusque with you earlier today. I thought perhaps as a consequence of my behaviour I should be concerned about you lacing my food with something poisonous.’

  Rachel held his gaze. ‘The only thing I have on hand to poison you with is my tongue.’

  He smiled in amusement, the action completely transforming his features. Rachel felt a kick in her belly, a jerky reminder that she was in no way immune to him when he chose to lay on the charm.

  ‘Then I will have to stay well away from your tongue, won’t I?’ he said with a glint in his eye.

  She held that look for as long as she dared. ‘Yes, you will,’ she said but her voice came out husky and soft, nothing like she had intended.

  He shifted his gaze and brought himself closer to the table using the crutches. It was clearly an effort for him but she stood back, reluctant to offer help in case he was annoyed or misread it as pity.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said once he was seated at the table.

  ‘For what?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘For not treating me like an invalid.’

  ‘But you’re not an invalid,’ she said. ‘You’ve already made amazing progress in the short time I’ve been here. I don’t think it will be long before you’re totally recovered.’

  There was a little silence.

  ‘How did you do it last night?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘How did I do what?’

  ‘How did you get to the table without assistance?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t see your chair anywhere or the crutches.’

  ‘I can walk short distances by using the furniture as a support,’ he said. ‘I left the chair out of sight until you had gone upstairs.’

  ‘Why did you leave it until last night to reveal your condition?’

  He studied her for a long moment. ‘I wanted to make sure you were committed to staying here for the money, not out of pity.’

  Rachel frowned at him. ‘You’d prefer me to be here just for the money instead of out of compassion?’

  ‘I knew I could count on your desire for money.’

  She took her seat, a frown still pulling at her brow. His opinion of her was appalling but no more than she deserved given her treatment of him in the past. How could she redeem herself? She needed the money. She couldn’t walk away from the deal even if she wanted to for her pride’s sake.

  He looked at her with an inscrutable expression. ‘That dress you’re wearing. Is it one of your own designs?’

  Rachel slid her hands down the sides of her dress. ‘This old thing?’ she quipped. ‘It’s just something I whipped up one afternoon when I had nothing better to do.’

  ‘So you sew as well as design?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, of course. It’s how I got started. I played around with making my own stuff and then I found people would stop me in the street or at a function I was attending and ask me where I got my dress. I decided I had something to offer so I went to design school. That’s where I met my friend Caitlyn. We decided to join forces. But I feel I’ve let her down …’ She bit her lip. ‘She invested a lot of money in getting us up and running, much more than I did. I was left a little short … well,

  I won’t bore you with the details but things were not looking that good for me after I ended things with Craig. There wasn’t a lending institution that would even give me an interview, let alone a loan.’

  He sat looking at her, still with that unreadable expression cloaking his thoughts and feelings.

  The silence went on and on and on.

  Rachel shifted her weight and waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen. ‘I guess I should serve up the first course …’

  ‘So what have you decided?’ he asked.

  She glanced at the document he had set by his place setting. ‘I think you already know I have no choice but to accept your conditions,’ she said.

  ‘Think of it this way,’ he said, handing her the papers and a pen. ‘Your relationship with me will be the shortest of any I have had so far, less than a month.’

  Rachel pursed her lips and looked through the document. It was much the same as the previous one. She had to sign a confidentiality clause and she would receive nothing other than the backing of her label and a generous allowance for every day she spent with him. After their relationship was terminated all business to do with the label would be conducted through one of his management team. It felt so cold and calculated. She hated signing her name to such a contract but the faces of her staff and Caitlyn swam before her eyes, and so she scribbled her name with a deep sigh of resignation.

  ‘I will pour the wine,’ Alessandro said, putting the papers aside to reach for the bottle Rachel had already set out.

  When she came back with their starters the wine glasses were full and the tense atmosphere had eased. She sat down opposite Alessandro and did her best to pretend this was just like any other dinner between two people who had chosen to spend some time together.

  ‘This is a lovely place you have here, Alessandro,’ she said. ‘I find it so inspiring. I worked on heaps of designs this afternoon just by looking out at the gardens.’

  ‘I am glad you like it,’ he said. ‘So tell me about the designs you’ve been working on. What in particular inspired you?’

  She drew in a breath and then released it as she picked up her wine glass, cupping it with both hands as she gathered her thoughts. ‘I don’t know … just the whole atmosphere here, I guess. I don’t know the history of the place but it seems the sort of villa that in the past has been at the heart of society: parties, gatherings, celebrations—that sort of thing. I can picture in my mind the women dressed in gorgeous gowns, the men in tuxedos. The gardens are spectacular. I can smell the flowers from my bedroom. It would be a great venue for a wedding …’ She stopped and lowered her gaze, dipping her head to her glass and taking a sip of her wine. What on earth was she talking about weddings for?

  ‘Have you ever designed a wedding gown?’ Alessandro asked.

  Rachel put her glass down and met his gaze. ‘Yes, a couple by request and it was a great experience. It’s something Caitlyn and I have considered branching further into but it all depends on finances.’

  ‘Do you miss your modelling career?’ Alessandro asked after another short silence.

  ‘Yes and no,’ Rachel admitted. ‘I found some aspects of it wonderful. I loved all the wonderful clothes and the buzz of a show, but there was always a downside. The constant battle to be what the latest trend demanded, the competition between girls you thought were your friends but weren’t. I found it hard to work out what was real and what was false. I like the other side of the catwalk. I can do my thing without the other stuff.’

  ‘I guess the advantage you have now is you know how both sides work,’ he said. ‘You can work the system, so to speak.’

  ‘Is that what you do?’ Rachel asked. ‘It’s a rags-to-riches tale most people from your background only ever dream of.’

  ‘I had some luck but most of it was hard work,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to waste any opportunity that came along. I worked hard, got to understand things from the ground up, and then made the most of the opportunities that arose. I am no different from any other self-made businessman. You don’t have to be born to wealth to be successful.’

  She picked up her glass for something to do with her hands. ‘I’ve always wanted to explain about that night … the night of my engagement.’

  ‘Forget about it,’ Alessandro said. ‘Even if you had felt something for me your father would have forbidden any connection between us. He would have cut you off without a penny.’

  ‘If I had loved you I wouldn’t have let my father’s opinions matter one little bit,’ she said. ‘
Love is worth much more than any amount of money.’

  Alessandro curled his lip in a mocking manner. ‘So in spite of your broken engagement your head is still full of romantic notions about true love, is it?’

  ‘I believe in love,’ she said. ‘I believe it’s possible to find fulfilment in a relationship with someone. I think it takes work but I still believe it’s possible to have a long and happy life with a partner, growing and changing together rather than drifting apart.’

  ‘So you intend to marry and have children one day?’ he asked.

  Rachel toyed again with the rim of her glass. ‘I would like to think that is going to be a part of my future,’ she said. ‘I can’t see the point in working hard for years on end with no one to share it with. Life is all about connecting with others. It’s too lonely otherwise.’

  A small silence ensued as Alessandro topped up their glasses.

  ‘What about you?’ Rachel asked. ‘Do you see yourself settling down one day with a wife and family?’

  He put the wine bottle back in its cooler before he answered. ‘I have no immediate plans to do so.’ He gave a small rueful twist of his mouth. ‘I find relationships hard work. I am not good at long-term commitment. No doubt it comes from my background, the lack of good modelling or a strong sense of family or something. The longest relationship I have had was six weeks. The last two of them were some of the most miserable days of my life and hers too, I would imagine. We didn’t part as friends.’

  ‘Did you love her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did she love you?’

  ‘She loved the lifestyle I could give her,’ he said. ‘Most if not all women I have met do. But no amount of luxury holidays and gifts of expensive jewellery can make up for not being connected on the levels that count.’

  ‘I don’t agree that most women fall in love with a rich man’s lifestyle,’ Rachel said. ‘You make us all sound like a bunch of greedy, shallow gold-diggers who don’t care about anything but their hair and clothes and how many carats are in the diamonds in their ears or around their necks. I think you’ve been hanging around the wrong women way too long. You need to get out more, to mix in other circles for a change.’

  He gave her an indolent smile. ‘Maybe before you leave you could set me up with someone you think would be suitable. Someone who could make me change my mind. Do you have anyone in mind?’

  Rachel felt that funny little fluttery pulse between her thighs again. Every time he looked at her a certain way she felt another piece of her armour slip away. He was so attractive when he was in a teasing mood. He was attractive in just about any mood, which was even more alarming to her. She found his brooding looks just as mesmerising as his playful ones. And she still hadn’t been able to forget about that kiss in the gym. Nor had she forgotten the feel of his hard body pressing down on hers, the way it had made her feel, the ache and longing that were still burning deep inside her. ‘I am sure you are quite capable of finding a partner all by yourself,’ she said with a touch of asperity. ‘I have no qualifications as a matchmaker. I haven’t exactly had the best of luck myself in the relationships area.’

  ‘Perhaps we are two of a kind, Rachel,’ he said, still with that lazy half-smile. ‘Two people who are unlucky in love.’ He picked up his glass and touched it against hers. ‘Let us drink a toast. To finding what we both want.’

  Rachel sipped her wine, wondering what exactly it was that Alessandro wanted. He had said sleeping with him was optional but she could feel the undercurrent of sexual tension in the air when they were together. A simmering tension that seemed to build as each minute passed. She could feel it now, especially when he looked at her with those intensely dark blue eyes. She felt as if she were being cast under a spell. The more time she spent with him, the more she felt her defences crumbling. He might have been the one in lust with her in the past, but this time around she was being drawn to him in a way she could neither explain nor control. She had never thought of herself as a particularly sensual person and her experience with Craig had only reinforced that. His criticisms of her had cut her deeply, making her feel unlovable and unattractive. Sex had been a physical act that hadn’t touched her at all emotionally. But Alessandro challenged all of her assumptions about herself. With him she felt alive sensually. With him she felt desire hot and strong. With him she felt a need that would not go away.

  But it would have to go away if she was to come out of this arrangement with her emotions intact. He wasn’t interested in anything other than a temporary dalliance. He had signed her up for a limited time and she would do well to remember it. This was a contract relationship, a business transaction that had no emotional bearing whatsoever. She would be a fool to fall in love with him now. It was too late. The chance for love had been five years ago. Why hadn’t she realised it at the time? She looked at him across the table and felt her heart tighten painfully. She had missed her chance with him. There was no going back.

  It was too late.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Alessandro asked.

  Rachel gave him a rueful look. ‘I was just thinking about how different things would have been if I’d had more time with you back then.’

  His gaze steadied on hers, holding it for a beat or two. ‘We weren’t exactly strangers, Rachel. I’d been working for your father for three years.’

  ‘I know, but I was only starting to get to know you when we started dating,’ she said. ‘I think I was only starting to get to know myself …’

  His smile was fleeting. ‘You were young and used to living a certain way. It would never have worked between us.’

  Rachel wondered if that were true. Did a difference in background really matter? Even royalty married commoners these days and lived happily together. Alessandro had qualities she had never seen in any other man. She suspected his difficult upbringing had given him a depth of wisdom that someone from a privileged background could never possess.

  The meal progressed until it was time to clear away. Rachel pushed back from the table but Alessandro’s hand came down on hers and held her fast. Her eyes met his, heat pooling in her belly when she saw the dark blue flame of his gaze. ‘Thank you for doing dinner,’ he said. ‘I am sorry I can’t be of much help in clearing away.’

  Rachel felt the burn of his touch, making every pore of her skin tingle. ‘That’s OK,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ll make coffee and bring it into the salon, shall I?’

  He slowly released her hand. ‘That would be perfect,’ he said. ‘I will meet you in there in a few minutes. I have a call to make.’

  When Rachel came into the salon a short time later Alessandro was sitting in one of the leather sofas, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The crutches were against the wall close by. He put his mobile phone away and moved his legs as she put the coffee on the table in front of him.

  He patted the seat beside him. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Don’t hover over there as if you are afraid I am going to bite you.’

  Rachel came over and sat down beside him, careful not to allow her thighs to get too close to his. But even so she felt the warmth of his body, and the citrus spice of his aftershave made her long to lean closer to breathe more of its intoxicating and alluring scent. It had been a mistake to sit beside him. She knew it as soon as he turned his head to look at her. There was no way she could disguise her reaction to him. Her breathing was all over the place, her heart rate rising as every pulsing second passed.

  He put a finger to her temple where a strand of her hair had fallen across, his touch so light and tender as he brushed it back from her forehead it made her breath hitch in her throat. ‘Like silk,’ he said, picking up another tiny strand and running it through his fingers. ‘Your hair is like spun silk.’

  ‘It’s too fine and I can never control it,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I think I should just cut it all off.’

  He cupped the back of her head, his fingers setting every sensory nerve on her scalp alight. ‘No, don’t do that
,’ he said, his eyes locking on hers, dark, intense, serious.

  Rachel sent the tip of her tongue out over her lips, a nervous, anticipatory gesture she couldn’t quite control in time. She watched as his eyes moved to her mouth, and the way his tongue did the very same thing over the much dryer landscape of his lips, leaving a faint glisten of moisture that instantly disappeared. She brought her hand up, her index finger tracing the line of his mouth in intimate detail, the smooth skin of her fingertip catching on the dry lines of his lips. ‘You should use lip balm when you go to bed at night,’ she said in a voice that was so soft it was close to a whisper.

  His eyes were even darker now as they came back to hers. ‘Is that what you do to keep your lips so soft?’ he asked, placing the pad of his broad thumb on the pillow of her bottom lip, moving it back and forth in a slow caress that sent the sensitive nerves into a frenzy.

  ‘I—I sometimes forget …’ she said, swallowing as his mouth inched closer.

  ‘I guess it becomes a habit if you do it often enough,’ he said just above her lips, his voice low and deep and raspy.

  ‘Yes … it just becomes part of your nightly routine,’ she said, mesmerised by his mouth so close now she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

  ‘Like flossing and brushing your teeth,’ he said, caressing her top lip this time, taking his time over the bee-sting curve.

  ‘Yes …’ She could barely take in a breath; her chest felt so tight, her heart hammering now.

  His hands cupped her face, his thumbs either side of her mouth, touching the sensitive corners. ‘I’ve been doing some thinking. If we are to convince others of the authenticity of our relationship we should really practise our moves a little more.’

  Rachel’s heart gave a tumble. ‘Moves?’ ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Like kissing, touching, all the things lovers do in public.’

  Her forehead crinkled slightly. ‘But I thought—’ He silenced her with both of his thumbs pressing softly against her lips. ‘Don’t think, cara,’ he said. ‘Just feel what is there between us. Feel the chemistry. Feel the electricity. Feel the heat.’