The Italian's Virgin Acquisition

by Michelle Conder

  ‘I’ll tell my grandparents we’ll have to leave mid-morning, if that suits you.’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’

  A small bubble inside her burst at his easy acceptance of the end to their weekend and she told herself not to be silly. Only naïve women fell for men like Sebastiano Castiglione and she’d let go of naïve a long time ago.

  Coming above board, Giuseppe waited to help Nicolette and Evelina down the gangplank. Without asking, Sebastiano held out his hand to Poppy. Before letting her go to follow the others up the stone pathway, he turned her towards him.

  Wondering if he was going to kiss her, she didn’t realise she had held her breath until he started talking.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for giving my grandparents a gift.’

  ‘Oh.’ She touched her hair self-consciously. ‘That’s okay. It was very small, and it is their anniversary.’

  ‘It meant a lot.’

  ‘Okay, well...’ Too aware of her hand still caught in his, Poppy tried to tug it free.

  ‘One more thing.’ He held her firm. ‘At the risk of putting you off-side again, I asked Giulietta to organise something for you to wear tonight. And, before you refuse and tell me you don’t need anything, it didn’t cost me a thing.’

  Poppy could see that he was expecting her to argue, but truthfully she had already worn the only dress that might have been remotely appropriate to dinner last night. Refusing another of his offerings because of pride would just be petulant. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, smiling widely at the bemused expression on his face.

  He blinked down at her. ‘Any time, intern.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  POPPY STARED AT her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a flowing halter-neck silver gown with matching stilettos that made her feel like a movie star.

  She had found the gown hanging in the closet when she’d returned upstairs and even if she hadn’t already agreed there was not enough pride in the world to stop her from wearing it.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked through to Sebastiano’s private sitting room. ‘Didn’t cost a thing, hey?’ she chided gently, trying to offset her nerves.

  Sebastiano turned, his phone to his ear, and Poppy forgot to breathe. She had never seen a man wearing a tuxedo in real life before and she doubted she’d ever see one who looked this good ever again.

  Good?

  Try amazing. Sexy. Powerful. Edible. Once again a nagging longing rose up inside her that only seemed to stir to life when he was around. She swallowed heavily.

  Mr Powerful, I’m-In-Control, Multi-Billionaire Castiglione, meet Miss Average, Not-So-In-Control, Poppy Connolly.

  He gave her one of his slow grins. ‘It was worth every penny. You look ravishing.’

  ‘Oh!’ She swiped moist hands down over her middle, her brow arching as she fought to contain the thrill his compliment had given her. ‘You lied to me!’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, completely unapologetic. He advanced towards her and heat bloomed beneath the surface of her skin at the look of intent on his face. Surely he wasn’t going to...going to...?

  ‘Turn around.’

  Turn around? Dumbly, she glanced down to see that he was holding the blue velvet box she had handed back to him on the plane. His lips twisted sardonically as she stood unmoving. Then he gave her a gesture to turn to face the mirror hanging over the mantle, and unbelievably she did, her hands going to the deep vee between her breasts as he placed the exquisite pearl and diamond necklace around her neck.

  What would it be like to sleep with a man like him for one night? she thought in a moment of helpless longing.

  Dangerous, her sensible side returned, giving her backbone a much-needed boost of common sense.

  ‘Like it or not, you’re going to wear this for me tonight. If we were in a normal relationship I would insist on it.’

  Poppy watched as he fastened the clasp at her nape, a shiver chasing itself down her spine. If they were in a normal relationship she would want to wear it for him.

  Ignoring that thought, she noted that despite her being in high heels he was still so much taller than she was, so much broader. She was unable to take her eyes from him; their gazes collided and held when he looked up. Green on blue. Blue on green.

  Suddenly it was difficult to breathe and Poppy was gripped by a ferocious shock of sexual arousal so powerful she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to move. Instead she wanted to lean back into him and rub her check along his freshly shaven jaw. She wanted to turn her head, find his mouth and have him kiss her as he had done the night before.

  A throbbing awareness rose up between them and Poppy was shaken to realise that his gaze was full of the same heat and fire she imagined was in hers. Everything inside her urged her to turn in his arms, place her hands around his neck and bury her fingers in his short, dark hair before pulling his mouth down to hers.

  His words from the previous night came back to her once more.

  ‘If I was completely ruthless, I’d already have you upstairs. Naked.’

  The tenor of the air thickened between them as if he too was remembering the same thing. Poppy couldn’t move to save herself and Sebastiano seemed equally as riveted as his searing gaze drifted down to where the pearl nestled between her breasts.

  ‘Sebastiano...’

  His nostrils flared at her soft tone and, just when she thought he might reach for her, was desperate for him to reach for her, he stepped back.

  ‘We should go down before my grandparents send up a search party.’

  ‘Of course.’ He didn’t want her. Not like that. Fool!

  She took a moment to smooth her hair back from her face. She had coiled it into what she had hoped was a sophisticated style, but now she felt awkward. Gauche.

  ‘Poppy—’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ She pinned a smile on her face and prevented any further comment by placing her hand in the crook of his arm, and propelling him from the room. She suspected he knew exactly what had gone through her mind and she didn’t want him to make some lame overture to make her feel better.

  When they stopped at the top of the staircase Poppy threw him an enquiring glance. Tension radiated from him like a testosterone-driven force; a dark expression turning his features hard.

  The murmur of voices and the clinking of glassware reached them, drawing her attention. Poppy felt her heart seize as a group of beautifully dressed guests entered the foyer, a white-coated servant draping jackets across his arm that most likely cost more than her yearly rent.

  ‘Why have we stopped?’ she asked. ‘Is everything okay?’

  His tanned throat convulsed as he swallowed. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

  ‘I don’t know—but you’re frowning. This is a really big deal, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Is that what’s bothering you? You don’t like parties? Because if you don’t I’d be happy to rent a movie on my laptop and eat popcorn.’

  He shook his head, a reluctant smile starting at the edge of his mouth. ‘And what movie would you choose?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She hunted around in her brain for one of her all-time favourites. ‘His Girl Friday?’

  ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ she said. ‘They don’t show it often in Business School for Beginners.’

  His eyes narrowed on her face, a curious light in his eyes. ‘What is your story, Poppy Connolly?’

  ‘My story?’ She almost laughed. ‘I’m probably the most boring person you’ll ever come across.’

  ‘Actually, you’re one of the most fascinating. Do you really not know that?’

  ‘Now you’re embarrassing me,’ she said softly. He couldn’t possibly mean that, not after the way he had rejected her upstairs.

  ‘I do mean it.’

  She gave a soft laugh. ‘You read minds now?’

  ‘Your face is very expressive. It’s like you wear your heart on your sleeve.’

  ‘It’s my worst trait.’
She sighed. ‘Whereas your worst trait is that you aren’t expressive enough.’

  ‘Still, you manage to read me. How is that?’

  ‘I’m just observant, I guess. It comes from years of not fitting in.’ She smiled uneasily at having revealed something so personal about herself, forcing a lightness into her voice. ‘Am I going to be confronted tonight by an old girlfriend who will try and scratch my eyes out? Is that what’s bothering you?’

  Sebastiano shook his head. ‘No. You will eat delicate canapés, sip the finest champagne and have a wonderful time.’

  But what about you? she wanted to ask. If she didn’t know better, she would say he was dreading his grandparents’ party. ‘That’s a relief.’ She gave him another bright smile. ‘But, just so you know, I get fidgety when I’m nervous so I’ll apologise now if I embarrass you in some way.’

  He glanced down at where her fingers were pleating the fabric of his jacket. ‘I had noticed that, yes.’

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ she muttered. ‘Maybe you should pinch me so I know this isn’t real.’

  His eyebrow quirked. ‘Isn’t it supposed to be for the opposite reason? So you know something is real.’

  ‘No. This already feels too real for my liking. I need a hard reality check. Your family makes me feel like I fit in.’

  ‘You do fit in.’

  ‘Yeah, like a ballerina at a bullfight.’

  Sebastiano threw his head back and laughed. ‘Look at me, Poppy.’ He sobered and reached out to tilt her chin up so that her eyes met his, a frisson of awareness darting between them. ‘You can fit in anywhere.’

  Her heart bumped inside her chest. ‘That’s not true.’ She had tried many times before and never fit in. ‘And you know it.’

  ‘I know some people are callous snobs, but only you can let them reduce who you are.’

  ‘So says the man who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth.’

  ‘But you are wearing the silver dress, bella.’ His smile was disarming, his eyes steady on hers. ‘You’re smart and beautiful, Poppy. You probably didn’t hear that enough growing up, but you can take my word for it. My HR department don’t hire duds.’

  She let out a shaky breath; she hadn’t heard those words at all growing up. But Sebastiano made her feel both those things, and that made him even more dangerous than he’d been when they had been standing in front of the mirror. At least then she’d known her reaction to him was purely physical. This felt a whole lot deeper.

  ‘You still have one wish left, you know. Have you decided what it is that you want?’

  Poppy looked at him askance. ‘You’re asking me that now?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because...’ She felt light-headed standing this close to him. ‘Can I wish myself away from here right now?’

  ‘I said it had to be within my power to deliver, bella.’ His fingers stroked lightly across her jawline. ‘That I cannot do without alarming everyone.’

  ‘Then, no, I haven’t.’

  She shifted back a pace and his hand fell to his side. ‘Is being here with me really that bad, Poppy?’

  ‘No. Actually, it’s not.’ She made a face. ‘Which is why I need pinching. I’ve never seen anything like this place and it feels like I’ve fallen into my very own fairy tale. And that only makes me feel worse, because it accentuates our differences.’

  ‘I told you, whatever you want, I will get for you.’

  ‘You don’t get it, Sebastiano.’ She shook her head. ‘You can click your fingers and have anything you want. That’s not real life for most people.’

  His eyes cooled on hers. ‘Actually, I learned a long time ago that you can’t click your fingers and have whatever you want, which is why I work so hard. I make sure nothing will ever be taken away from me again.’

  Aware that the conversation had deviated down a path they hadn’t been down before, Poppy stared at him. She wanted to ask him what he was talking about but she was also aware that he had withdrawn from her and most likely wouldn’t answer.

  ‘Sebastiano, come sta? Tutto bene!’ a disembodied male voice called from below.

  Sebastiano turned to her. ‘Ready?’ he asked, his gaze hooded as he held his arm out for her once more. Nodding, Poppy descended the stairs beside him, aware of curious eyes turning to watch their progress.

  A well-groomed Italian man with an air of confidence about him met them at the bottom of the stairs, a half-empty champagne flute in hand. His eyes did a slow tour of Poppy’s figure. ‘Chi e questa donna affascinante?’

  ‘Mine,’ Sebastiano supplied smoothly. ‘Poppy, this is a soon-to-be ex-friend of the family, Sergio Stavarone. Be careful; he is unattached and looking to receive a black eye.’

  Sergio laughed and took her hand, kissing the back with a wicked glint in his eyes. ‘Just say you don’t want this ugly cretin, bellisima, and I am yours.’

  Poppy grinned, she had no idea what he had said but his light-hearted banter seemed to ease Sebastiano’s tension from moments ago. She caught the intense gleam in Sebastiano’s gaze that said, ‘Back off!’ to the debonair Italian and her stomach impersonated a tumble dryer.

  ‘You’re a really good actor,’ she murmured as he led her to a part of the villa she hadn’t been in before. ‘I almost believed you myself back there.’ Which would be to her detriment, she knew. ‘Is this a ballroom?’ Her astonished gaze swept the vast room lined with ornate mirrors and floor-to-ceiling windows facing the night-dark sea. Beautifully dressed men and women mingled while white-coated servants wove between them, offering drinks and finger food on silver trays.

  ‘Yes, it is a ballroom.’ Sebastiano grabbed two fluted glasses from a passing waiter, handing her one. ‘And I wasn’t acting. I didn’t like the way he looked at you.’

  ‘You’re very possessive for a fake boyfriend,’ she commented.

  His eyes held hers. ‘I’m very possessive full-stop.’

  Poppy’s heart did a little quickstep and she was very glad when a small group of well-turned-out Italians interrupted them. For some reason her defences regarding Sebastiano were lower tonight and, try as she might, she couldn’t seem to find the wherewithal to resist his animal magnetism.

  Knowing that could only lead to one outcome—a bad one—she decided to focus on the party and not the man beside her. It was a good idea, because she found that she actually enjoyed meeting and chatting with such a wide variety of people. Most of them were incredibly lovely, although one or two women shot daggers at her as they vied for Sebastiano’s attention. Of course, he was a consummate fake boyfriend and played the part to perfection, always making sure she had a drink, including her in conversations and insisting that anyone who spoke to him did so in English. It was all a bit much, really.

  Even so, there was often an undercurrent of something not quite right when some of the older Italians grabbed his attention.

  After one particularly circumspect group departed, Poppy turned to him. ‘Why does everyone treat you as if they haven’t seen you in for ever?’

  ‘Because they haven’t.’

  ‘Oh, well, that explains it,’ she returned, deadpan. ‘Seriously, though—that lovely couple before, for example, seemed awfully careful about what they said to you. It was almost as if they were walking on eggshells. The husband turned brick-red when he mentioned your parents and I thought his wife was going to stomp on his foot.’

  ‘Don’t you know, bella?’ Sebastiano’s teeth flashed white beneath the impressive chandeliers. ‘I am the big, bad wolf. Or—what did you call me?—a shark.’

  Poppy scoffed. ‘You know I don’t think that any more. I’ve seen your softer side and I’m not so easily fooled by your bad-boy exterior.’

  ‘You are not only terrible for my ego, bella, but if I’m not careful my reputation as well.’

  ‘Be serious,’ she admonished. ‘What am I missing?’

  He raised his champagne flute to his lips. ‘My mouth on yours.’

  Poppy blinked, n
ot sure she had heard him correctly. ‘What did you just say?’

  ‘I want to kiss you again, bella mia. Why do you look so shocked after the incredible kiss we shared yesterday?’

  Poppy swallowed heavily. ‘Because I am. That kiss was for show and—’

  ‘Was the way your eyes ate me up back in my office that Sunday morning for show?’

  Heat surged through her at the memory. ‘My eyes did not eat you up.’

  ‘I nearly kissed you then, you know,’ he said almost conversationally. ‘When your busy fingers were knotting my tie.’

  ‘Sebastiano...’

  ‘You know the only reason I told you to get me a shirt was to get your hands off me.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry if I over—’

  ‘Because I was aroused.’

  Poppy’s breath caught in her lungs. His words were stripping away her more sensible side and rendering it obsolete.

  He chuckled at her mute expression. ‘You seem surprised.’

  ‘I am. You date supermodels and beautiful actresses.’

  ‘And now I date women who wear Mickey Mouse watches. I bet no one in my office put money on that.’

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But I knew I should have taken this off.’ She fidgeted with the band. ‘It’s never looked so out of place before, but I forgot.’

  Refusing to let her retreat behind her safe walls, Sebastiano curled his hand around her waist. ‘Leave it on. It looks charming. Different. Original. You’ll probably see a couture version selling on the Internet by morning.’

  ‘I really don’t think—’

  ‘Poppy! Sebastiano! Eccovi. I have been looking for you everywhere.’

  Poppy swung around at the sound of Giuseppe’s voice, her eyes wide, her cheeks on fire. After listening to Sebastiano tell her how much he wanted her, all she could picture was her and Sebastiano’s reflection in the mirror, his darker head bent to hers, his lips grazing her neck, his lean hands touching her. Stroking her.

  ‘How are you enjoying the party?’ his grandfather asked, clearly not picking up on the sexual tension that vibrated like a live wire between them.