Claiming My Untouched Mistress

by Heidi Rice

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, not nearly as horrified at the prospect as I probably ought to be.

  Inappropriate and unbidden heat flushed through my system. The thought of sleeping with Carsoni for money had disgusted me, but the thought of taking that kiss to its logical conclusion with Allegri didn’t disgust me at all. In fact, at the moment the only thing that was really worrying me was the thought that once he found out I was a virgin, and I didn’t know the first thing about pleasuring a man, he might ask for his five million euros back.

  Which was probably very bad of me. After all, agreeing to become Allegri’s mistress because he’d paid off a five-million-euro debt for me would compromise me, the way my mother had always been compromised. Really, I ought to feel trapped and humiliated. But I couldn’t seem to muster the required shame or indignation. At all.

  Because the prospect of being free of debt was almost as intoxicating as the memory of that turbo-charged kiss... And where it might lead.

  ‘Well, I guess we’re going to find out,’ Jude said, looking sheepish. ‘Because he’s coming over later today to check up on you.’

  My heartbeat bumped my throat, threatening to gag me, while the heat sunk deep into my abdomen.

  I’d entered the game at Allegri’s casino and lost—precisely because I had been determined to prove I was not as needy as my mother. But as the heat spread through me, softening my thigh muscles and dampening my panties at the thought of what Dante might want from me, I wasn’t even sure of that any more.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘I CAN’T THANK you enough for helping us, Mr Allegri. My sister and I are completely beholden to you. I’m more than willing to show you my gratitude in any way you think is appropriate. Even though I’m aware that five million euros is a lot more than my gratitude is worth.’

  ‘What five million euros are you talking about, bella?’ I asked, trying to keep a grip on my temper as my gaze roamed over the livid bruise on Edie Trouvé’s cheek, which had spread into a dark circle under her eye overnight.

  What insanity was this now? And was there no end of ways this woman could stir both my desire and my exasperation?

  She stood before me in the furniture-less room where she had been attacked the day before, sporting the marks that Brutus Severin had inflicted, looking as if a strong wind would blow her down. But, despite her obvious fragility, she seemed not to realise how vulnerable she was, her face open and eager and full of hope, as if I were some kind of saviour. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  ‘Didn’t you pay Carsoni the money we owe him?’ she asked. ‘To get him to cancel the debt?’

  ‘No, I did not.’

  She frowned, clearly confused. ‘But then, how did you get him to cancel it?’

  My exasperation increased at the realisation that my hunger for her had not abated in the least, despite her obvious naiveté.

  ‘I didn’t get him to cancel the loan; my legal team did,’ I said. ‘The credit agreement your brother-in-law signed was invalid.’ Or, rather, Carsoni had been persuaded that trying to enforce it would cost him more than the debt was worth, not just in money but also in a lethal blow to what was left of his reputation on the Côte D’Azur. ‘Carsoni was only too happy to forego the debt once he realised he would be meeting the might of the Allegri Corporation in court—instead of two penniless women—if he chose to collect any more money from you.’

  I had also had my lawyer inform him that he and his organisation would be the subject of a criminal investigation if I chose to inform the police who had employed Severin.

  ‘I... Oh.’ She sounded more disconcerted than pleased by this revelation. ‘So you didn’t pay him five million euros on our behalf?’ she asked again.

  ‘No, I most certainly did not.’

  ‘I see. Well, that’s good. That’s very good.’ A blush flared across her chest.

  She looked disconcerted, even a little deflated, the vivid blush riding her collarbone and seeping into her cheeks.

  It occurred to me she had painted herself into an interesting corner with the suggestion I had paid off Carsoni. A corner I couldn’t resist shining a light into.

  ‘What kind of gratitude did you have in mind, bella?’ I asked. The blush illuminated the freckles on her nose.

  ‘I... Can you forget I said that?’ she said.

  ‘No, I think not,’ I said, not about to let her off so easily. Seeing her rattled felt like payback. Because she had done nothing but rattle me ever since I had first laid eyes on her. ‘I’m just wondering what kind of gratitude would be worth five million euros?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, busy avoiding eye contact.

  My lips quirked. Damn, but she was even cuter when she was mortified.

  ‘Five million euros is a lot of money,’ I mused. ‘I would expect something very exceptional for that amount,’ I added, openly teasing her now.

  The strange thought that she would be worth every cent of that amount hit me unawares though, as she raised her head and stared at me.

  Her soft skin was flushed with embarrassed heat but her eyes sparkled with a strength of character that reminded me of a battle-weary Valkyrie.

  Edie Trouvé might be that very rare thing, a woman as honest and open as she was fearless.

  Desire flushed through my system.

  What would it be like to have such a woman in my bed, surrendering herself to pleasure?

  The stab of longing at the thought disturbed me on a level so visceral, my amusement at the situation faded.

  Edie Trouvé wasn’t fearless; she was desperate. And on one level she had just insulted me, by offering me her ‘gratitude’ in payment for five million euros. There was nothing honest or open about what she’d implied. Sex was always a transaction, just like everything else in life, but all she’d done was prove that point.

  I’d learnt at a very young age that needs and desires only made you weak. I’d made my fortune, forged a future for myself alone, without relying on or having to trust anyone, knowing that no one gave anything freely. There was always a price, and Edie’s offer was no different.

  ‘You’re mocking me,’ she said, the sparkle of excitement gone from her eyes. ‘But I do want to thank you, Mr Allegri, for contacting Carsoni and making this happen. If you let me know what the legal fees are I’ll endeavour to repay you that.’

  I should have been vindicated by her surrender. But somehow the defeated tone had the exact opposite effect.

  Exasperation gave way to annoyance. ‘My legal team are on a retainer, so there are no additional fees for this work.’

  She nodded. ‘Then it’s just the matter of repaying the million euros I owe you.’

  ‘That debt is erased too,’ I said curtly.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she said.

  ‘Tell me honestly,’ I said. ‘Did you know the bank draft was fraudulent?’

  She paused for a moment and then shook her head. ‘But I still lost the money at the table. So surely I still owe it to you.’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, but unfortunately it’s very clear you cannot afford to repay it.’

  The flush of arousal, the rapid rise and fall of her breathing and the nipples visible against the worn cotton of her T-shirt, were making it hard for me to concentrate on the conversation.

  The urge to take her in my arms and kiss that concerned look off her face was not something I could pursue while she was still bruised from yesterday’s assault. I had come here with an entirely different purpose. One I needed to focus on now, before I did something I might later regret.

  I needed time to properly assess my attraction to this woman. Because, in light of her current circumstances, it made even less sense than it had two nights ago, when I’d believed her to be the spoilt daughter of a rich man.

  Pint-sized Valkyries weren’t my type any more than spoi
lt little rich girls.

  But I had mulled over her situation and done some Internet research on her and her family during the night I’d spent in a nearby hotel and had decided that offering her a position as part of my team for the upcoming house party at my estate on the Côte D’Azur made even more sense now than before.

  She might currently be destitute, but her family had an aristocratic lineage that could be traced back to the Huguenots and the highest echelons of British high society. She was the bastard issue of her mother’s affair with the married younger son of a British duke. Her great-grandfather had been a French count and one of her grandfathers that British duke. Maybe her father and her father’s family had never acknowledged her. But that blue blood still ran through her veins—while mine was as red and wild as the poppies that grew in abundance in the fields outside the house.

  She had, no doubt, gone to the best schools, while I had learned my lessons on the back streets of Naples, scrapping and struggling for every single bite. And, while no one knew the full degradation of my heritage, everyone knew I had come from nothing. I was a gambler, a self-made billionaire, and while I had always been proud of what I had achieved, having her as part of my team at this event would give me a status I could use—a bankable commodity which I was more than happy to pay for.

  And her skills at the table would be invaluable if used properly.

  In some ways, our circumstances weren’t all that dissimilar. She was illegitimate too, and had been at the mercy of forces beyond her control. Like me, she had worked hard to rise above her circumstances, the way I had worked hard to rise above my station and erase the circumstances of my birth.

  But my admiration for her ended there. And giving her a chance didn’t have to mean anything other than that. As long as she understood that I was not a charitable man, and I didn’t do anything out of the goodness of my heart—because I really didn’t have a heart. After all, I had been careful to cut it out ever since...

  I shut off the thought, the shaft of memory not something I wished to revisit.

  The two situations were not the same. I had been a child then. I was a man now. A man who had made himself invulnerable to pain.

  ‘Your sister told me exactly how deep your financial troubles go,’ I said. ‘I have a possible solution.’

  ‘What is it?’ she said, desperation plain on her face.

  ‘Would you consider working for me?’ I asked.

  ‘You’re... You’re offering me a job?’

  She sounded so surprised, I found my lips curving in amusement again.

  ‘As it happens, I am hosting an event at my new estate near Nice at the end of the month. I could use your skills as part of the team I’m putting together.’

  ‘What exactly do you need me to do?’ she said, her eagerness a sop to my ego.

  ‘The guests I am inviting are some of the world’s most powerful businessmen and women.’ I outlined the job. ‘They have all shown an interest in investing in the expansion of the Allegri brand. The event is a way of assessing their suitability as investors. As part of the week, I will be offering some recreational poker events. These people are highly competitive and they enjoy games of chance. What they don’t know is that how they play poker tells me a great deal more about their personalities and their business acumen—and whether we will be compatible—than a simple profit and loss portfolio of their companies. But I find that successful people, no matter how competitive they are, are also smart enough to know that they cannot best me at a poker table. So I need someone who does not intimidate them, but who can observe how they play and make those assessments for me.’ I kept my eyes on her reaction, surprised myself by how much I wanted her to say yes.

  My attraction to her might be unexpected, but I had spent a lifetime living by my wits and never doubting my instincts. When I had originally considered giving her a hosting position I’d been aware of the possible fringe benefits for both of us and I didn’t see why that should change. She had made it very clear she was more than happy to blur the lines between employer and lover, and all her responses made it equally clear she desired me as much as I desired her.

  ‘I’ll pay you four thousand euros for the fortnight,’ I said, to make her position clear. This was a genuine job, and a job she would be very good at. ‘Joe can brief you on each of the participants—and what I need to know about them. If you do a good enough job, and your skills prove as useful as I’m expecting them to be, I would consider offering you a probationary position.’

  She blinked several times, her skin now flushed a dark pink. But didn’t say anything.

  ‘So do you want the job?’ I asked, letting my impatience show, annoyed by the strange feeling of anticipation. Why should it matter to me if she declined my offer?

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll take the job. And thank you.’

  Triumph surged up my chest, which seemed out of proportion to what I had actually achieved. Of course she’d said yes—why on earth would I doubt it? And why should I even care that much?

  She tugged at her lip. Desire bloomed in my groin and I had my answer. My eagerness to have her in my employ was about physical desire and exceptional chemistry, nothing more or less.

  I pulled a card out of my back pocket and handed it to Edie. ‘Joe will contact you with all the necessary details of your employment in a couple of days,’ I said. ‘If you need to contact me directly, my personal number is on the card.’

  She took the card and nodded. Then the strangest thing happened—the line of her lips tipped up on one side. The smile was tentative and shy and self-deprecating, but it lit her eyes, giving them a glow which highlighted the shards of gold in the emerald green of her irises.

  The jolt hit my chest unawares as it occurred to me I’d never seen her smile before. It only made her beauty rarer and more exquisite.

  She ran her thumb over the card, the sheen of moisture in those stunning eyes making the jolt twist sharply.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Allegri—for everything,’ she said, her gratitude genuine and heartfelt and all the more disturbing for it. ‘I won’t disappoint you, I swear.’

  ‘Then start by calling me Dante,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you, Dante,’ she said.

  I turned and left but as I climbed into my car and drove off the estate the jolt refused to go away, forcing me to consider the possibility that my attraction to Edie Trouvé went beyond the physical... Which would not be good at all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AS THE HELICOPTER touched down on the clifftop heliport, I was sure my eyes were literally popping out of their sockets at the sight before me.

  Belle Rivière was beautiful, but it had none of the sheer grandeur and elegance of Dante Allegri’s estate on the Côte D’Azur. Over ten acres of manicured gardens, arranged in terraces leading down to the sea on three sides, the grounds were peppered with statues and follies, waterfalls and lavish ponds as well as a huge marble swimming pool at the back of the villa with steps leading down to a dock and one of the estate’s three private beaches.

  Guest houses were nestled among the gardens, but the house itself stood proud as the centrepiece. I estimated the chateau had to have at least twenty or thirty bedrooms as the helicopter circled the building. A summer house originally built for a Portuguese prince, the mansion, with its rococo flourishes, elegant walkways, Belle Époque frontage and lavish plasterwork, had been described by Joseph Donnelly as a villa, but that description seemed far too modest for the palace below me.

  I had known Dante Allegri was a rich man, but I’d never really considered how rich.

  Two members of staff appeared at the heliport to greet me as I stepped down from the aircraft. Joseph had seen me off in Monaco less than twenty minutes ago.

  I had spent the last three days with him and the casino staff being briefed on the guests who would begin arriving in a few days
for Dante Allegri’s house party. I’d taken copious notes on the names and faces, the businesses they owned and what their preferences were, and how I should address them—I’d also researched their finances and how they’d made their money, so I could observe their play and assess their attitudes to risk with more context.

  I hadn’t seen Allegri while I was staying in the apartment assigned to me at the casino, and I had been grateful for that. I needed as much time as possible to calm my nerves and get a grip on my instinctive reaction to him before I saw him again.

  I wanted to make a good impression. I needed to earn the probationary position he’d mentioned, if I was going to have any chance of salvaging not just my pride, but my family’s finances and Belle Rivière. Allegri’s actions had freed us from Carsoni’s threats and the crippling debts, but we still had a sizeable mortgage on the estate and the house itself was rundown and unfurnished. Jude had suggested we turn it into a bed and breakfast inn, so we could make it self-sufficient, but for that we would need to invest in it. And a new job with good prospects could provide the capital we so desperately needed if Dante Allegri offered it to me.

  Allegri... No, Dante, I corrected myself, as my skin heated. Dante had given me an opportunity—an opportunity I wanted to make the most of.

  Thank goodness he didn’t know my experience of these sorts of high society events was precisely zero. My mother had been shunned by polite society in both the UK and France—and my only experience of it was the years I’d spent observing the behaviour of the daughters of the wealthy in boarding school and, more recently, the jobs I’d had cleaning the houses of the rich and privileged.

  But, while I might not have a profile in society, I did understand numbers. And probabilities. Joseph Donnelly had told me Dante was a man who preferred cold hard facts. If I could give him a numerical breakdown of exactly how well each person played—what risks they took and didn’t take, the bets they made and the bets they won, how often they bluffed, et cetera—I would be able to amass a wealth of data which he could use to his advantage. I’d already worked out several formulas to assist me in compiling the data.