by Lilly LaRue
Happily Ever After Romances reserves all rights granted by the author. No part of this book may be copied or shared without written permission from the publisher. All characters are creations of the author, and resemblances to any real person are coincidental.
Copyright 2011, Lilly LaRue
Chapter One
“It’s quite a circus, isn’t it?” Molly murmured as she joined Aronne on the second floor, where he leaned against the rail, studying the contents of his glass with brooding dark eyes.
He looked up, briefly startled by her presence, before sweeping his gaze over the assemblage on the lower level. “Indeed.” A lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead, and he raked it back impatiently.
“It was exactly what Margot wanted for her engagement party.” She hadn’t meant her tone to sound so bitter.
Aronne arched a brow. “That bothers you?”
She shrugged. “Not really. I’m used to it.” What Margot wanted, Margot got.
His eyes narrowed, and she shivered under his scrutiny. “Who are you?”
“Molly. We’ve met a couple of times the past year.” Not that she expected him to remember Margot’s little sister. At twenty-four, Aronne didn’t live at home with the Giannis family, and he’d seldom been part of the meetings between the Powers and Giannis families. Both times he had, there had been a gorgeous woman on his arm. Once, a Brazilian girl almost as tall as his six-two, and the other time, a statuesque redhead.
A rueful look at herself reminded her she wasn’t in the league of those women. Nowhere near. At five-three, thanks to the three-inch heels she wore, no one would ever call her tall or willowy, or compare her to an Amazon. She had soft curves she preferred to the stick-thin figure of her sister and Margot’s friends, but knew he must prefer the supermodel look, judging from his choice of companions.
It was a surprise to see him alone at the party. Of course, she was alone too, to no one’s surprise, but wasn’t foolish enough to think he would suddenly notice Margot’s seventeen-year-old sister. Eighteen in three weeks, she thought with a twitch of her lips, as if it would make a difference.
Aronne cocked his head, his gaze touching the top of her head and moving to her feet. Was she imagining the gleam of interest? No doubt it was her imagination run amok. “You’re Margot’s sister, right?” At her nod, he said, “You look a lot like her.”
Molly shrugged, not sure she considered that a compliment. It was true they both had the same caramel-brown shade of hair and hazel eyes, perhaps with a similar bone structure, since both girls resembled their mother, but the likeness ended there. Margot was tall and slender, with an innate grace and keen fashion sense. She knew how to accentuate her beauty with several tricks, including artificially added golden highlights and long acrylic nails, which remained a mystery to Molly. There was a lot to envy about Margot, and she did, though she hated it. She didn’t want to be her older sister. She just wanted to get some of the same attention and consideration her sibling received.
Steering the conversation from Margot, she asked, “What are you doing up here?” When he swirled his glass, she looked down where his hand curved around the cut crystal, noticing it was empty, save for some melting ice.
“I’m contemplating if it’s worth braving the horde for another whiskey.”
Molly bit her lip, hesitating for a second. Telling herself he still wouldn’t notice her, even if they were the last two people alive, she said, “There’s no need. I know where Dad keeps the key to his liquor cabinet in his study.”
After a second, Aronne smiled. “I like the way you think. Lead the way, Molly.”
Warmth suffused her at the sound of her name on his lips. What would it sound like if he said it after they had shared a passionate kiss? Would it be roughened with desire, or would it still be smooth as glass? Deciding she read too many romance novels, she shrugged off the thought and led him up to the third floor.
As they climbed the stairs, she was conscious of his nearness and wondered if he was watching her butt in the tight dress. That seemed likely, since he was a man. What man would look away from a shapely butt wiggling in his face? That wasn’t sexist, since she freely admitted she would look her fill if their positions were reversed.
A moment later, they emerged on the landing, and she took him down the hall to her father’s study. With the panel on the wall, she flipped on the lamps, but left off the overhead light, giving the room a warm glow without being overpowering. “Have a seat,” she invited, waving to the loveseat and couch on one side of the room.
Molly went straight to her dad’s desk, sat in his chair, and felt underneath for the key hanging from a hook. She had never figured out if he was trying to keep her and Margot out of it, or if it was to protect his expensive liquor from the staff. It could go either way, she supposed, but doubted he worried about either of the girls dipping into his alcohol. She knew Margot used to smuggle it out to party with her friends, since she was the one who had told Molly where to find the key.
Next, she went to the armoire and opened it, slipping the key inside the lock. With a twist, a section slid out to reveal several bottles of alcohol. “Whiskey?” she asked.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Do you want ice?”
“Sure.”
Molly opened the small freezer on the shelf above to take out a few ice cubes. Feeling a little daring, she dropped ice into a second glass and splashed whiskey into both glasses. It probably wasn’t the best drink to try, since she’d only ever had champagne or a little wine before, but it was a night to forget caution.
She took the glasses and sat on the couch beside him—not as close as she would have liked, since she didn’t want to freak him out by coming on too strong. It was difficult to gage how strong was too strong, with her limited experience, but figured climbing on his lap and asking for a kiss would be a bit too forward.
Smothering a giggle, she took a sip of the whiskey, managing not to choke or grimace as she swallowed. Definitely not on her top-ten list of favorite drinks, but she could fake a taste for it tonight.
He drained the glass in a couple of swallows. Molly watched him stand up and walk to the liquor cabinet, where he extracted the bottle and brought it back to the table. After he’d topped off his glass, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
A harsh laugh escaped him. “No, everything’s great.”
She didn’t miss the sarcasm, but didn’t pry, since he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. “How long do you think the party will go on?”
Aronne shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s interminable, isn’t it?”
Molly nodded, taking a bigger drink of whiskey, once again fighting the urge to cough. “It’s a regular occurrence around here. Someone’s always throwing a party for something.” She grinned. “I’m hoping we have a few less parties after Molly marries Cristiano and moves out.”
He shifted to reach for the bottle again, before settling against the couch, with his arm over the back. If she scooted an inch closer, his fingers would touch her shoulder. “Do you still live at home?”
She nodded. “I just finished school.”
“What’d you study?”
Molly kept it vague, figuring he had little interest in the curriculum at her all-girls’ high school. “A little of everything.”
“The choices in college can be overwhelming.”
Her eyes widened when she realized he thought she meant she had just finished college. She opened her mouth to correct the assumption, but closed it with a snap. What harm could it do to pretend to be a bit older? “Yes. What did you study?”
“What else? Business administration, with a minor in tourism and hospitality.” He grimaced. “You can’t be the Giannis heir without k
nowing how to run the corporation.”
She nodded, sensing his underlying bitterness. “What did you want to major in?”
Aronne’s gaze locked with hers, and she thought she saw a hint of admiration. “Perceptive, aren’t you? In truth, I don’t know, but it wasn’t what I ended up taking.”
“Maybe you can go back once you figure it out.”
His harsh laugh made her frown. “You’re a bit naïve, Molly. Once I’m at the helm, I’m stuck there.”
“Cristiano—” She tried to suggest.
He gave her a sardonic look. “Can you imagine Cristiano in a position of authority? He’s a great guy, but responsibility isn’t his strong point.”
Molly wet her lips, searching for a diplomatic answer. Instead, she blurted out, “He’ll be a perfect match for Margot.”
Aronne frowned. “I disagree. They are too young to get engaged, let alone married.”
“She’s nineteen, and he’s twenty.”
He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, would you have been ready to get married at nineteen?”
Her palms dampened, and she discreetly pressed them against the sapphire-blue dress. “I never gave it a thought.” That was true. Until this second, it had never occurred to her to wonder if she’d want to get married at nineteen. “Probably not.”
“Exactly. Neither will listen to sense.” He lifted his glass in a mocking salute. “Here’s to their sixty-percent chance of divorce.”
A startled giggle escaped her, and she lifted her own glass, swallowing the contents in one gulp. It burned down her throat, and she coughed just a little, but didn’t protest when he refilled her glass again. She lifted it. “How about toasting to the million-dollar wedding she’s planning?”
“To ridiculous excess,” he agreed. They drank before he replenished their glasses again. “Let’s not forget their luxury villa in Italy my parents plan to give them as a wedding gift.”
She blinked. “I had no idea.”
He shrugged. “It’s a surprise.” The words came out with a little bit of a slur, making her wonder how many he’d had before their impromptu get-together in the study.
“That explains the yacht my aunt and uncle are giving them.” She rolled her eyes. “They can sail to their villa in their new yacht and enjoy a few months of wedded bliss before reality catches up.”
“Reality calls for another toast.” They drank another round.
After her fourth whiskey, she was feeling a bit giddy. “Here’s to the wedding night. Surprise, Cristiano,” she said with a giggle.
His brow wrinkled, and his lip curled. “What do you mean?”
“I think he’s expecting something my sister can’t deliver.” She reached for the bottle and topped off her glass before leaning forward to fill his. Her balance was a little off, and she was grateful for his steadying hand. “Thanks.”
“Is your sister not a virgin?”
Molly snorted. “Hardly. I couldn’t care less, but I know how it matters to your family.”
Aronne shrugged. “As you say, I couldn’t care less, but I agree Papa will be furious if Cristiano ever tells him.”
“Of course. It’s okay for his sons to whore around, but they have to find a virgin to be a suitable bride.” Molly knew the whiskey had loosened her tongue, but couldn’t call back the indiscreet words.
He stared at the contents of his glass, brooding. “It’s an unfair double standard, I agree, but try to understand my parents’ point-of-view. They both grew up in Italy and immigrated here after their marriage, so their traditional values still mean a lot to them.”
She arched a brow. “I guess that makes sense. I just hope Cristiano doesn’t share the same view, or their sixty-percent chance will increase to about one hundred-percent.”
He wore a strange expression. “One can hope.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “You really hope they get divorced?”
Aronne’s expression closed. “I just want what’s best for everyone.”
“To happiness for the happy couple,” she said with a small hint of mocking. It didn’t make her proud to wish her sister would have a little suffering, but she couldn’t help hoping Margot really did get a dose of reality.
With a snort, he lifted his glass, and they drank again. Whoa, the room was feeling a little spinny, wasn’t it? She focused on the coffee table, reaching forward to put her glass down. It was time to stop the whiskey before she lost consciousness. She’d hate herself for losing a shot at being alone with the object of her adolescent lust because she passed out.
The glass rested on the edge for a second, before tumbling onto the floor. With a curse, she stretched to get it. Her center-of-gravity shifted too quickly, and she cried out as she started to fall. Once again, her companion rescued her, lifting her up to settle on the couch. With a start, she realized she was suddenly a lot closer. “Thanks.” Had the alcohol made her voice sound that husky, or was it his proximity, and his hands still on her hips?
“You’re welcome.” His lips twitched. “I think you’re also a little drunk.”
Molly nodded, and then giggled at the way the motion made her feel giddier still. “It’s probable.”
“Want to hear a secret?” He crooked his finger when she nodded again. “Come closer.”
She slid a little closer, bringing her ear near his mouth. “What is it?” she asked in a whisper.
“I think I’m drunk too.” He laughed. “I haven’t been this toasted since the year I lived in the frat house.”
Molly giggled. “Never. You’re so strong and stoic. Aronne Giannis, heir to the empire, would never get inebriated.”
“Apparently he would, under the right circumstances.” A shadow passed through his eyes before clearing when he grinned. “I’m impressed. You can still say inebriated.”
“I can still do a lot of things.” Molly blinked, wondering if that sounded as seductive as she thought it had?
“Like what?” His expression was full of challenge.
Spurred on by the liquid courage and the yearning for the kiss she’d been rambling about in her journal, she turned to fully face him and leaned forward to press her lips against his. The kiss was rather tame, but it still sent a spark through her. Lifting her head, she met his gaze.
“You can do better than that.”
Molly gasped when he cupped the back of her head and pulled her forward for a deep kiss. His lips demanded hers part, and his tongue slipped inside. Within a couple of strokes of his appendage, they’d gone beyond her previous experience. Part of her wanted to object, to end the kiss before things got out-of-hand. Another part of her wanted to see how far he would go, and the tiny functioning bit left of her brain knew things were already out-of-hand.
He kissed so well that she couldn’t help responding, determined to be a fast learner. Soon, they were almost devouring each other, and she gasped when he cupped her breast, thumbing the nipple. Her mind thought about stopping him even as she arched her back to allow freer access.
Aronne reached behind her to unzip her dress, and it sagged around her arms. With efficient precision, he slipped off the straps before touching her through the bra. Molly moaned as he cupped both of her breasts and stroked the nipples. He swallowed the sound by deepening the kiss as he moved his hands to take off the strapless bra, tossing it with reckless abandon.
Molly froze at the first touch of his hands on her bare mounds. She cried out when Aronne lifted her higher, breaking the kiss as he slid lower to take one nipple into his mouth. Sensations coursed through her, like nothing she’d ever felt, and she surrendered to them, letting the tide sweep her away as he explored her body.
At some point, she started touching him too, shy at first, but growing bolder with his encouraging responses. She touched his manhood gently, curious and a little alarmed by the size. The realization that he was planning to put it inside her made her shudder, but not entirely with fear.
It was a terrible idea to take Aronne for her first
lover. She knew that. He was her soon-to-be brother-in-law’s brother. He was seven years older than her, and he thought she was out of college. If he learned the truth, he would be angry. Knowing she had to stop this, Molly put her hands on his face to urge him to look up. Before she could tell him her thoughts, his mouth parted, and she gave in to temptation by kissing him again.
She cried out with pleasure when his tongue caressed hers, while his hand moved between them. Aronne slipped inside her slick flesh to stroke her clitoris, making her almost scream at the unexpected onslaught of sensations. His mouth muffled her cries as he massaged her, bringing her to climax with just a few expert strokes. It was her first, and she trembled under the force. Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them away—not at all sad, just a bit overwhelmed.
Molly didn’t protest when he shifted her onto his lap. Knowing she should stop it wasn’t motivation enough. Caught in the grip of feelings she’d never experienced, with the man she’d found attractive since meeting, she didn’t try to pretend, even to herself, she didn’t want him to take her virginity.
Aronne eased inside her, and she whimpered. He didn’t seem to notice the temporary resistance as he thrust in and out of her. His hand reawakened all the sensations it had before when he stroked her as they thrust together. It was completely different to orgasm with him inside her than it had been when he was stimulating just her clit. She tightened her thighs around his, tilted back her head, and bit hard on her lip to keep from shouting with satisfaction.
A moment later, Aronne thrust inside her once more, burying his shaft deep inside her, and giving in to his own release. He continued to hold her, staying inside her for a few more minutes before turning them sideways on the couch. She nuzzled against him, her mouth near his neck, and their legs tangled together. He brushed a kiss across the side of her head. “That was what I needed, cara.”
Noticing the slight chill for the first time since they’d come into the room, she shivered. A small voice tried to prod her to get up and go to her room. There was a good reason, but she couldn’t remember it as her eyelids closed. Before they drifted off to sleep, she was aware of him pulling the afghan on the couch down to cover them. She felt safe and protected as he tucked it around her.
