‘I’ll pay back any expenses I run-up, I promise you that, even if it takes me the rest of my life. I just need a break, Salvatore,’ she finished, on a whisper. ‘Didn’t someone give you a break when you were starting out?’
Salvatore scowled as her words struck an unwanted chord. Yes, he’d had a break. His godfather had given him enough money to buy an airplane ticket to the New World and to feed himself until he found himself a job.
He knew there was nothing to stop him from telling her she wasn’t his problem. From jumping in his limo and roaring away without a backward glance. Her mother might be angry but she would soon get over it—she’d have to. And if the neighbours gossiped, so what? They would only gossip until the next scandal came along. Because she wasn’t his responsibility. They were both grown-ups. They’d had a one-night stand, that was all.
That was all.
He’d made her no false promises.
He owed her nothing.
Nothing.
But, unerringly, Nicolina Vitale had touched on a raw nerve for Salvatore did know how small-town gossip worked. He knew how powerful it could be. How people were quick to judge you, especially if you were a woman. If he turned his back on her now and walked away—wouldn’t that be like throwing her to the lions? And wasn’t there something about her fervour which made him think of the person he’d been all those years ago—so full of drive and ambition and hope? Was it that which made him hesitate?
‘You’ve never even been abroad and I don’t think you understand just how different Sicily and America are,’ he argued. ‘Culture shock won’t come close to it. You don’t even speak English.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she said, instantly switching to that language, admittedly with a rather pronounced Sicilian inflection.
Immediately, Salvatore did the same. ‘And just how much of it do you understand?’ he questioned imperiously. ‘Knowing how to ask the time or get directions to the nearest railway station is one thing. But if that’s your standard of fluency, you’ll be completely out of your depth.’
She tilted her chin upwards. ‘Would you like to test me, then?’ she challenged, her voice growing more heated now. ‘Do you want me to assure you that I won’t make a mistake about “flower” and “flour” and that I know the difference between “angry” and “hungry”?’
Salvatore very nearly laughed and then very nearly pulled her in his arms to kiss the truculent tremble of her lips, because her defiance seemed to have kick-started a slideshow of erotic recall which was starting to heat his blood. Suddenly he could picture her dark olive curves outlined against the white sheet. He could remember how soft she’d felt as she had eagerly opened her fleshy thighs to accommodate his thrusting body. He could recall the sweet tightness as he had broken through her hymen with what had felt like the biggest erection of his life.
‘Where did you learn to speak English like that?’ he queried unevenly.
‘I’ve always worked hard at my studies and we had a teacher in the village,’ she explained. ‘A woman from England who fell in love with a Sicilian waiter and came back to Caltarina to be with him. She made it her mission to teach all the children in her care how to speak her mother tongue. She said...’ She hesitated. ‘She said we never knew when it would come in useful.’
‘And maybe she inspired you with more than her language skills,’ he suggested silkily. ‘Did she also teach you that if all else fails, you can use a man as an escape route from a situation which no longer appeals to you?’
Lina’s heart was beating very loudly as his words sank in and she stared at him in growing disbelief. ‘Do you think...?’ Say it, she urged herself, even though it made her feel sick to articulate the insulting implications of his words. She sucked in a deep breath and the air felt hot and raw against her throat. ‘Do you really think I slept with you in order to get to America?’
‘Who knows?’ He shrugged. ‘People have done a lot worse to get themselves a Green Card.’
It occurred to Lina that maybe he didn’t think so highly of himself if he thought she’d targeted him because of that. Surely he didn’t imagine that a woman would have sex with him for any other reason than because he was irresistible. But his beliefs weren’t her problem. It didn’t matter what the billionaire thought of her. What mattered was that he gave her a seat on his plane and a temporary roof over her head. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.
‘So will you help me, Salvatore? Will you take me to America with you?’
The pause which followed seemed to last for ever until he glanced down at his watch with the slight desperation of the condemned prisoner counting down the seconds to his own execution. ‘My jet is leaving in an hour.’ His narrowed eyes were shards of unfriendly blue ice as he lifted his gaze to her face and his words were equally cold. ‘You can stay on my estate for a few weeks, but no longer. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘Perfectly,’ she said, her heart racing, wondering why, suddenly, he was looking like the enemy.
‘Then get in the car,’ he snapped.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS A day of firsts.
Lina had never been whisked to a private airfield before, or been treated almost like royalty by everyone they came into contact with. As soon as she and Salvatore stepped from the limousine, the tycoon’s personal crew flocked around him like fireflies on a summer’s night, though she couldn’t miss their looks of surprise when they registered that she was to be his travelling companion.
Did she look out of place in her handmade dress and the sneakers she’d bought from the local market?
Of course she did, but she couldn’t allow such things to bother her. Her position here was nothing to be ashamed of. She wasn’t Salvatore’s lover. Not any more. That part of their relationship was over. He’d told her very clearly that it was never intended to be anything other than a one-night stand and she told herself she was happy with that decision. She was simply hitching a ride from a man who could help her, and one day she would pay him back in full.
But nerves got the better of her as she fastened her seat belt and she turned to the man beside her, trying not to focus on the long legs which were stretched out in front of him, or the quiet strength which was radiating from his powerful body. ‘Do you think we’re going to crash?’ she asked as he pulled a computer from a soft leather briefcase and the plane’s engines roared into life.
He frowned. ‘You really think I wouldn’t make a point of using the safest planes flown by the best pilots in the business?’
‘Then why did the stewardess spend so much time pointing out the emergency exits and showing me how to put on my life jacket?’
He gave a flicker of a smile. ‘It’s a legal requirement on all flights, Lina. And I hope you’re not going to come out with that type of inane comment for the entire journey. Transatlantic travel can be tedious at the best of times, but that would really stretch my patience.’
‘I’m sure it would and I’ll try my best to keep my inane comments to myself. It’s just that I’ve never been in a plane before. I told you that.’
Salvatore stared unseeingly at the blur of figures on the screen in front of him, because that was easier than looking into her dark and smoky eyes. Yes, she had told him. She had told him lots of things but it seemed his hearing had been selective and he’d only registered the things he’d wanted to hear. His fingers hovered over his laptop; for once he was failing to be absorbed by the graphs which dominated the bright square in front of him. Lust had triumphed over reason and, as a consequence, he now found himself in a situation not of his choosing.
‘Just read something to pass the time, will you?’ he growled. ‘Ask one of the crew to bring you some magazines.’
Expelling an impatient breath, he turned his attention back to his computer, because his plan had been to work, just as he always did when he was travelling. He never rea
lly stopped working. In interviews, he was often asked why he kept going when his fortune was already so vast, and, although he sometimes brushed the question aside, deep down he knew why. It wasn’t just the adrenaline buzz you got while chasing down a tough new deal, or the flush of success when you pulled it off, sometimes against all the odds. It wasn’t even the irrational dread which lingered on from his childhood—his determination never to know hunger again.
He narrowed his eyes. No. The reason was far more elemental than that. At least you knew where you were with hard cold dollars and cents. They didn’t betray you, or hurt you, or lie to you. It was only people who did that. And it was the people closest to you who could tell the biggest lies of all.
An image of painted red lips and nails the colour of blood swam into his mind, accompanied by the memory of a low, taunting laugh. And Salvatore gave silent thanks for being the man he was today. A man who was psychologically self-contained and immune to the wiles of women. He sighed. If only desire could be controlled as tightly as his emotions. His gaze flickered across to Lina, transfixed by the way her raven curls tumbled down over the swell of her breasts.
Had he thought he could compartmentalise their explosive night of passion and put it firmly in the past, because to do anything else would be an act little short of insanity? Against his better judgement, he had agreed to provide her with a temporary place to stay, and keeping his distance from her was essential if he wanted to drive home the message that he was unavailable. But maybe he had misjudged her appeal or maybe he’d underestimated how powerful it felt to have his sexuality so keenly awoken after what now seemed like a long time. Because suddenly his work was forgotten. Suddenly Lina Vitale was the sole focus of his attention.
In her simple dress she looked as fresh as a blossom which had tumbled from a tree—despite the fact she’d had very little rest last night. He could personally vouch for that. Sleep had eluded them both as they had lain with their limbs tangled and, as dawn had washed the bed with warm shades of rose and gold, he had been aware of the olive sheen of her skin, only a couple of shades lighter than his own. There had seemed something indefinably erotic about that. She was the first Sicilian lover he’d ever had—probably with good reason. But reason was the last thing on his mind right now.
He felt his throat thicken as she lifted her head and her lips parted, reminding him of the way she had softly clamped them around his erection in the preceding hours. He wondered if his breath had quickened. Was that why her nipples had started to show through the cheap cotton of her dress?
With an effort, he flicked his gaze back to the screen, but no matter how many emails he tried to compose, the words just kept blurring, because all he could think about was the throb of desire which was hot and heavy at his groin. When she crossed one ankle over the other like that, it seemed like the most erotic action he’d ever witnessed. He couldn’t stop thinking about his fingers travelling up her leg to linger on the cool satin of her thighs, or how good it had felt to make that first, tight thrust inside her molten heat. He had taken her over and over again and each time it had felt just as sweet as the first time. Hell, she had been so sweet. So openly blown away each time he’d made her come, which had been a lot. She had rained kisses all over his lips over and over again, as if she was thanking him. Were all virgins so touchingly grateful?
He didn’t want to think about it.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
His mouth grew dry as the tension between them mounted. It felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked from within the confines of a cabin which had never felt this small before. He was having difficulty breathing and started wondering if the captain had adjusted the pressure. He swallowed.
‘So how are the first-time-flyer nerves?’ he said, the conversational tone of his question belying the erratic thunder of his heart. ‘Feeling a little less anxious now?’
Lina swallowed as she rested her hand on the magazine—the glossy page feeling sticky beneath her hot palm. Less anxious? Was he kidding? She might have had fears about flying, but they had been replaced by a concern about her reaction to him, and the way she couldn’t seem to do a thing about it. Did he realise he was making her breasts ache just by looking at her, or that her panties had become embarrassingly damp?
But she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him like that. The brief sexual side of their relationship was a thing of the past—from now on he was nothing other than her reluctant mentor.
With an effort she dragged her mind back to his question and attempted an equally polite answer. ‘A bit better, thanks. I think I’m getting used to it. It’s certainly a very smooth flight and the clouds outside the window are beautiful.’
The hard glitter of his blue eyes seemed to mock her. ‘Are you hungry?’
She shook her head. Was she going mad? Why did she feel as if they were having one conversation, with a whole completely different conversation going on underneath? ‘No. Not really.’
‘Tired, perhaps? This kind of journey is always draining. There are a couple of bedrooms at the back of the cabin and perhaps you should try to get some rest. The one on the right is quieter. Try that.’
‘Good idea,’ she said, unclipping her seat belt and rising to her feet. She told herself that sleep was essential. More importantly, it would get her away from Salvatore and the disturbing impact he was having on her senses. He probably wanted to get rid of her. For all she knew, he might be desperate to contact some woman in San Francisco and start arranging to see her the moment he arrived back. And if that were the case then she was going to have to deal with it. He’d made her no promises, had he? He’d offered her no future. And she’d been okay with that. She needed to be okay with that. He was already being generous in providing her with a flight and a home.
If she started wanting anything more, she was risking heartbreak. And she couldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable like that—not when she was starting a new life in a new country.
A ridiculous feeling of self-consciousness rippled over her as she picked up her handbag and made her way towards the back of the cabin, wondering if he was watching her. And the crazy thing was that she wanted him to watch her—to run that appreciative blue gaze over her in a way which could make her hungry body quiver with longing. But he said nothing more as she left the cabin and Lina quickly went into the bathroom, where she stood for ages holding her wrists beneath a gushing tap. But no amount of cold water was able to bring down her body temperature and eventually she washed her face, brushed out her hair and decided to try and get some rest as Salvatore had suggested. Hopelessly distracted by a head full of erotic images, she walked noiselessly along the softly carpeted corridor and pushed open the bedroom door, her heart missing a beat as she walked in.
Because there was Salvatore.
He had obviously just showered because tiny droplets of water were glittering in the thickness of his jet-dark hair and he was pulling a black T-shirt down over his rippling torso. And he was wearing jeans. Black jeans which hugged the powerful length of his legs. Lina had never seen him wearing anything so casual and he looked almost shockingly sexy. A low curl of heat began coiling itself tightly inside her, round and round and round it went, the pressure building and building with each second that passed. The spring of her nipples began to push almost painfully against the lace of her bra and she wriggled her shoulders a little. It felt as if she were dissolving with desire and she swallowed as she struggled to get the words out.
‘I think... I think I may have the wrong room,’ she said.
He looked right back at her and the silence which followed seemed to go on for a very long time.
‘Not necessarily,’ he said, at last.
Lina was no expert when it came to what men wanted, but maybe she didn’t need to be. She could see a pulse flickering at his temple and the almost imperceptible tightening of his lips. His smouldering blue gaze and
the unmistakable darkening of his eyes were sending out the unspoken message that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But she had been the one to make the first move last time and since then Salvatore had made it very clear that their relationship was going to be platonic. And wasn’t that the best thing? Wouldn’t that help to protect herself from the way he made her feel?
She knew what she should do. Squeeze out a polite smile and excuse herself. Find the other bedroom and stay in there until all this inconvenient desire had left her. But she couldn’t. And if that could be described as a weakness in her character—Lina didn’t care. Because she had spent most of her life being a good girl. Who could blame her if she was enjoying this tantalising feeling of being naughty?
Was that why she just continued to stand there, drinking in his magnificent body with a sexual hunger which was growing stronger by the minute? And suddenly she was getting the distinct feeling that they were each fighting some kind of private inner battle, waiting to see which of them would break first.
It was him.
With something which sounded like a helpless groan, he walked across the cabin towards her and pulled her into his arms, looking down into her face for one long and searching moment—as if seeking the answer she was sure he could read there, before bending his head and blotting out the world with his kiss. And Lina kissed him back. Hungrily. Fervently—dimly acknowledging how different it felt from the first time he’d kissed her. That time it had been all about newness and discovery and his inevitable reaction to her virginity. He had been careful with her, taking his time to extinguish every last bit of apprehension so that she had been bombarded with pleasure, over and over again.
But now he was kissing her in a way which was raw and heightened with untempered passion and suddenly Lina felt more like an equal than a novice. Hadn’t he taught her how to enjoy pleasure last night and shown her some of the things he liked? So why not show him what an attentive pupil she’d been? Boldly, she slid her hand down the front of his T-shirt, and as she began to massage the hard contours of his torso through the dark material she could hear his slow expelled breath of pleasure.
Cinderella In The Sicilian's World (HQR Presents) Page 6
