by Sarah Morgan
‘The one where you get to stay alive?’ His gaze flickered to hers, his dark eyes so compelling that it was impossible to look away.
‘It isn’t that simple.’ With effort she averted her gaze and sucked in some air. ‘I need to pay back the rest of the money Johnny owed them or this is never going to end. You said you’d give me a job, which is great, but I’m still not going to earn it fast enough.’ She had to force the words through the tiny chink in her pride. ‘I know you have contacts—I wondered if you knew anyone I could go to for a loan. I think it would be safer to owe money to a stranger.’
‘You don’t owe money to anyone.’ Silvio pressed a button on the lift. ‘I’ve repaid the debt.’
‘You paid them?’ Shocked, Jessie turned to look at him. ‘When?’
‘Last night.’
Last night, when he’d left her alone. Stunned, it took her a moment to respond. ‘I didn’t want you to do that. I was paying them myself—’
‘Piece by piece,’ he drawled contemptuously, his disparaging glance surprisingly hurtful.
It was obvious that she couldn’t sink any lower in his opinion, and Jessie wondered why that should matter to her.
She wasn’t supposed to care what he thought, was she?
Feeling the humiliating sting of tears behind her eyes, Jessie lifted her chin. ‘I will pay you back.’
‘I’ll speak to my finance department and they can work something out.’ Silvio dismissed the subject as if it were nothing and she stood stiffly, slowly digesting the fact that the debt was finally paid.
All those years of worry. Years of slog, terror and sheer bone-numbing exhaustion.
She felt as though a heavy object had finally been lifted away from her.
She just wished that he hadn’t been the one who had lifted it.
Why had he done that?
‘Thank you,’ she said huskily, finally managing to say the words. She’d never thought she’d be thanking him for anything. ‘I—I don’t understand why you bothered bringing me here in that case. You don’t have to go to all this trouble.’ The lift doors opened and she reached out to press the button for the ground floor.
‘Maledezione, what are you doing?’ His hand closed over hers and he intercepted her movement.
‘You said you’d paid off the debt.’ This close to his body it was hard to breathe and Jessica’s face flamed as she felt the now embarrassingly familiar burn low in her pelvis. ‘It’s over.’
‘It isn’t over,’ he growled. ‘Come on, Jess. You’re not that naïve. The money was only part of what they wanted from you and you know it.’
She did know it.
And the knowledge had terrified her. The thought of stepping out there again had terrified her. Every night she’d wondered whether this was going to be the night they won.
‘You’re right, of course.’ Her voice was calmer than it should have been. ‘I’d like my knife back.’
‘I have no intention of giving you the knife. If they’d found that they would have used it on you. The only way to stop them claiming what they want is for them to think you’re with me. At the moment they do think that. As long as we don’t give them any reason to doubt it, you’ll be safe.’
Feeling intensely vulnerable, Jessica stared at the centre of his chest. ‘So basically the choice is that I take my chances with them, or I take my chances with you.’
‘I’m not dangerous. ’
It was such a manifestly false statement that Jessica laughed, but it was a hysterical laugh, devoid of humour. ‘Make up your mind. Last night you told me you were dangerous too.’
‘All right, let me put that another way.’ A sardonic smile touched his beautiful mouth. ‘I’m not dangerous to you.’
Oh, but he was.
She knew that this one man had the power to do her more damage than every gang prowling the streets of London.
And he knew it.
He’d always known how she felt about him.
Jessie drew in a shuddering breath, reminding herself that everything was different now. He wasn’t her hero any more. He was strong, yes. And powerful. But he wasn’t the saint she’d once thought he was.
Her eyes were open wide and her heart was safely shut away.
He couldn’t hurt her any more than he already had, could he?
And it would be crazy to refuse his protection. She’d lived her life on the edge for long enough to know that when help offered itself, you took it. ‘I don’t think it will work,’ she said huskily. ‘They’re going to know I’m not the sort of woman who is usually in your life. I don’t go to film premieres and celebrity parties. I don’t know how to walk down a red carpet.’
‘You put one leg in front of the other,’ Silvio drawled. ‘And celebrity parties and film premieres are going to seem like a holiday after the life you’ve been leading. It isn’t something you need to practise.’
The lift doors opened but Jessie didn’t move, daunted by the acres of glass and the sheer elegance of the building. ‘I don’t know how to shop in places like this.’
‘That’s easy too.’ His hand closed over her wrist and he urged her forwards. ‘You just find something you like and you buy it. It’s not rocket science.’
‘I don’t like spending your money.’
‘Now, that’s something no woman has said to me before.’ His smile was shockingly appealing. ‘You’re missing an opportunity for revenge, Jess. This is your chance to fleece me.’ With his usual cool confidence, he walked towards a woman who was waiting. ‘Alternatively you could consider it a necessary investment on the part of your employer. You’re singing at the most important society wedding of the decade. You need to look the part.’
And that was another thing. It was all very well singing in Joe’s Bar, but another thing entirely to sing in front of a discerning audience.
Just the thought of it made her stomach cramp with nerves.
What would they want her to sing?
What if they hated her voice?
Guided into an elegantly furnished private room, Jessie sat on a low, comfortable sofa and watched as clothes were modelled for her by a series of haughty models with endless legs.
She sat stiffly, feeling horribly out of place and painfully conscious of what they must be thinking about her.
After ten minutes of smiling politely, she turned to Silvio. ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Am I supposed to clap?’
‘You make a note of the ones you like.’ Preoccupied with answering emails, Silvio’s eyes were fixed on the screen of his BlackBerry. ‘Then you try them on. After that you take them home and wear them. Simple.’
He thought that was simple?
At the moment it felt like one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Her confidence didn’t increase when she turned back to the private fashion show in time to see a model staring hungrily at Silvio. She was sleek, glamorous and confident and Jessie suddenly wondered what on earth had possessed him to think he could convincingly pass her off as his woman.
‘It doesn’t matter how you dress me,’ she mumbled, fiddling with the ends of her hair, ‘I’m not going to look like her. I don’t know why you’re bothering.’
Silvio lifted his gaze and frowned. ‘I wouldn’t want you to look like her,’ he murmured in an undertone. ‘She’s extremely bony.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’ Jessica’s eyes widened as she watched the girl disappear behind the curtain. ‘She’s beautiful. And confident.’
‘Confidence is an act.’ Silvio glanced at Jessie’s face, exasperation gleaming in his eyes. ‘Jess, what is the matter with you? You faced a bunch of thugs in an alleyway but here you are looking at a few fancy clothes and you’re scared?’
Jessie bristled defensively. ‘I didn’t say I was scared,’ she said fiercely. ‘A bunch of posh clothes don’t worry me.’ But she was saying it to convince herself as much as him, and perhaps he realised that because his eyes narrowed.
&
nbsp; ‘I understood that choosing a new wardrobe was most women’s idea of paradise.’
‘The women you mix with, maybe.’
Women who were nothing like her.
She tried to imagine what it must be like to have nothing more serious to worry about than what you were going to wear.
‘Maybe I haven’t got used to the idea that I can actually have any of this stuff.’ She shrugged awkwardly, reluctant to reveal how inadequate the whole thing made her feel, or how intimidating she found the groomed perfection of the models. ‘Maybe it’s just seeing it modelled.’
‘That seemed to be the best way for you to see the clothes.’ He stretched out his legs and Jessie wished she could be even a fraction as relaxed as he was.
‘I can see how the clothes look on them, but not on me.’ Couldn’t he see the difference? ‘We’re not the same shape, for a start.’
‘So what do you want?’
Her face scarlet, Jessie gnawed her lip, wishing she could just melt into the sofa and disappear. ‘I don’t know. Can I just try them on myself—with no one watching?’
‘No, because I don’t want any repeats of the gold dress. But I’ll agree on a compromise. You can model them for me. I’ll decide.’ He gestured to the woman masterminding the fashion show and moments later the room was empty and they were alone. ‘The clothes are all on rails behind the curtains. Help yourself. If anything doesn’t fit, let me know and they’ll bring a different size.’
Her face burning from his derogatory comments about her gold dress, Jessie looked at the expensive cut of his trousers and decided that being hard up was probably nothing more than a distant memory for him.
‘What’s it like,’ she blurted out, ‘to be able to buy anything you want without thinking about how much it costs? Does it feel weird?’
‘You tell me,’ he drawled softly, and Jessie realised with a flash of disbelief that he was giving her free rein to buy anything she wanted.
For a moment she didn’t move, waiting for him to laugh and name a budget she had to work within, but his attention was back on his BlackBerry, his long fingers flying over the keys as he dealt with another email.
‘Right—I’ll just try something on…’ Relieved that he didn’t appear to be paying attention, Jessie stepped onto the stage, wincing as her cheap trainers squeaked.
Suddenly realising how ridiculous she must look, she giggled and turned to face him. ‘And here we have Jessie, modelling this season’s latest just-pulled-through-a-hedge look—’ she pushed her hand into her hair and pouted dramatically ‘—in last season’s jeans and jumper…’ Her eyes met his and his gaze was thoughtful.
‘It’s good to see you laughing again.’
Laughing?
Oh, God, she was laughing—for the first time in as long as she could remember. And with him.
What was the matter with her?
Buying these clothes was a life-saving necessity, not a frivolous spending spree. She was doing this because she had to, not because she wanted to.
She wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself.
Jessie’s smile faded and she backed towards the curtain. ‘I—I’ll go and try on the rest of those clothes.’ Horrified with herself, she took refuge behind the curtains, her mouth dry and her heart pounding.
This was what happened when you were forced to accept help from your enemy. When the person you hated became your protector, you were in bigger trouble than ever before.
Jessie looked at the rails of clothes.
She didn’t want to take anything from him but she needed clothes so that she could do the wretched job he was offering her. She couldn’t sing for Mr and Mrs Celebrity couple without looking the part.
His words stuck in her head. I don’t want any repeats of the gold dress.
He thought she had no fashion sense.
Thinking about how hard it had been even to keep herself clothed on her non-existent budget, Jessie glared at the clothes as if they were responsible for her situation.
She’d show him fashion sense.
Her attention caught by a shimmer of peacock blue, she reached out and snatched the dress from its hanger. Seeing the label, she gave a gulp and almost put it straight back. A dress like this would cost a fortune. More than she earned in a year, including tips.
But where was the harm in trying it on?
Too much of a woman to resist the temptation, she wriggled out of her jeans.
As soon as the delicate fabric whispered over her skin, she gave a low moan of appreciation. She didn’t need a mirror to know that it was going to look good. This dress would look good on anyone.
Taking a pair of shoes from the selection that had been left out for her, Jessie slid them on, noting how much more comfortable they were than the cheap budget-store version she crammed her feet into every night.
‘Goodbye, blisters,’ she muttered, pushing back the curtain and stepping onto the catwalk. Hoping she wasn’t going to fall flat on her face, she strolled forward, imitating the swaying confident walk of the models. ‘This store is trying to fleece you,’ she said lightly. ‘There’s nothing but expensive stuff back here.’
‘That’s good.’ In the middle of reading an email, Silvio didn’t even glance up and Jessie felt a rush of anticlimax, thrown by the fact he hadn’t even looked at her.
‘Did you hear what I said? They’re trying to make you spend loads.’
‘I heard you.’
‘Well, you at least ought to tell me if you think it’s worth the money.’
His glance was so fleeting that she almost missed it. ‘You look fine.’
That was it? That was all he was going to say?
‘At that price it ought to be more than fine.’ Curiously deflated by his indifferent response, Jessie was about to turn away when she noticed the tension in his shoulders. Puzzled, she glanced at his face but his eyes were on the screen in his hand. ‘Why did you come here if you’re too busy for this?’
‘I’m not too busy.’
‘Well, you’re obviously really stressed about something. So what’s on your mind? What is there to worry about now that you’re rich?’
Finally he looked at her.
Self-conscious under his penetrating dark gaze, Jessie shifted awkwardly. ‘What? There’s no mirror so I couldn’t look at myself. Am I wearing it the wrong way round or something? Is there something wrong with it? You said it was fine.’
It was a moment before he answered and when he did his voice was terse. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it. And this is going to take all day if we spend this long on each outfit.’ He returned his attention to his phone and Jessie felt a rush of humiliation, all too aware that he’d paid the model more attention than he’d paid her.
Infuriated with herself for minding, she scowled at him. ‘I can’t pick a whole wardrobe from the stuff back there,’ she said huskily, horrified to discover that she had a lump in her throat. ‘It’s all really expensive.’
‘It doesn’t matter what it costs.’
‘Do you throw money at every problem you encounter?’ The words fell out of her mouth without the approval of her brain. ‘Because you ought to know that spending money on me isn’t going to change the way I feel about you, so if that’s why you’re doing this, you shouldn’t waste your money.’
His fingers stilled on the keys. ‘If a problem can be solved with money, then I use money. You have no clothes that fit your new life, so I’m solving that problem.’ His response to her impassioned outburst was supremely logical. ‘And I don’t expect it to change the way you feel about me.’
‘Good, because it doesn’t.’ She wondered why she suddenly felt ungrateful. ‘But I’d rather not be in debt to you for the rest of my life if you don’t mind. So could you snap your fingers or whatever it is you do when you want attention, and ask them to bring something in a more realistic price range? Tell them I want normal-person clothes. The sort I can wear around the supermarket.’
‘You w
on’t be going anywhere near a supermarket for the foreseeable future. And they’ve chosen well.’ His gaze lingered on the dress. ‘It’s perfect for the role you’ll be playing.’
He was reminding her that this was a role. That none of this was real.
That she wasn’t dressing up for him.
He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.
Brought back down to earth with a hard bump, Jessie swallowed. She hadn’t for one moment forgotten that, had she? She hadn’t started to think this was real? It was an escape from her old life. A way out.
Temporary.
No matter how devastating he was to look at, no matter how masculine and self-possessed, he was still the man who was ultimately responsible for her brother’s death. There never could be anything between them
. She squared her shoulders, her spine stiff. ‘Well, if you want me to dress for the ‘role’ then you’d better tell me what you have planned. Where are we going?’
‘This afternoon we’re flying to Sicily. I’m hosting a champagne reception on my yacht—I want you by my side. And there will be numerous other events that we’re expected to attend. The clothes are a gift, Jessie. Accept the gift.’ A cynical smile played around his sexy mouth. ‘Despite what you seem to think, you’re not going to bankrupt me in one shopping trip.’
‘Events? What events? I thought you were employing me to sing.’
‘I am. You’ll sing at the wedding at the end of the week. After that we’ll work out a more permanent contract.’
Jessie fiddled with the dress, daunted by what he’d just said. ‘You’re hosting a champagne reception? I won’t know anyone.’
‘You will by the end of the evening.’
‘What if no one talks to me?’
He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes perplexed. ‘Why wouldn’t they talk to you?’
‘I’m not like them.’
‘You’ve never met them, so you can’t know that.’ Clearly at a loss to understand her qualms, Silvio gave a frown of irritation. ‘You should have more confidence in yourself.’
‘Well, I haven’t,’ Jessie said flatly, ‘and I bet you I’ll be standing on my own all night. We’re not all as confident as you! Even when you were living in care and your only possession was your fists, you were still confident. How did you do that?’
