‘I am also convinced that now would be a good time to leave this damned party.’
She turned her head towards him, intending to speak, to try and douse the fire that had ignited between them. A fire she could never allow to burn. Her cheek touched his as he lowered his head and, following some kind of instinct she’d never before experienced, she moved until his lips were against hers.
Briefly her gaze locked with his, then her eyelids fluttered closed as the pressure of his lips met hers. The kiss was hard, demanding much more. She wound her arms around his neck, one hand still clutching her empty champagne flute, and gave herself up to the mastery of this man’s kiss. Her lips and her body asked for more and he responded, making her heart thump hard.
His tongue slid into her mouth, entwining with hers. He tasted wild and untamed. She sighed, making him deepen the kiss, and he began to invade every cell of her body with a heady desire she’d never known before.
Heaven help her, she wanted this man. Wanted him in a way she hadn’t known was possible.
Just when she thought she couldn’t remain standing against him any longer he broke the kiss. She slid her arms down slowly from his neck and he took the glass from her hand, putting it on a nearby table. Cool air rushed around her as their bodies parted and she felt exposed, naked, as if everyone in the room would be able to see just how much her body wanted his.
Santos’s gaze slid over her, just as it had done when she’d entered the room, but this time her skin sizzled. When it lingered on her breasts her knees weakened and breathing was suddenly the hardest thing to do. She was transfixed, unable to move, unable to hide from his open desire.
Around them the noise of the party slowly came back to her and she was thankful that they were not alone. What would she have done if they were?
She’d have made a big mistake, that was what. She would have allowed passion and champagne to take over, allowed them to destroy everything, exposing emotions and leaving her vulnerable. She’d seen it with her mother, knew the consequences, and had promised herself she’d never allow that to happen to her.
‘We leave now.’
His voice, though still deep and throaty, radiated total command and, afraid hers would sound weak and trembling, she nodded in agreement.
With his hand possessively in the small of her back he propelled her towards the door. Partygoers stepped aside for them. Envious glances from women came her way. The cool façade she lived behind slipped firmly back into place. She lifted her chin, smiled, and walked proudly at Santos’s side.
What would they think if they knew the truth? Would they gasp in shock at the calculated plan she was acting out?
‘Georgie?’ Emma’s voice filtered through the defensive wall she’d quickly rebuilt, despite the hum of her body.
She looked into her sister’s face and saw genuine happiness. It shone from her eyes so brightly that she knew she was doing the right thing. She touched Emma’s arm and gave her a secretive smile. The smile of a woman who was being swept away by the most magnetic man she’d ever met.
‘I’ll call you in the morning.’
Emma’s smile widened and she looked from her to Santos and back again. ‘Okay.’ She grinned and turned to leave, obviously in a hurry to tell Carlo.
‘Let’s go,’ Georgina said, without looking at Santos. The taste of deception was strong in her mouth.
‘I like it.’
His voice purred like a big cat content to take it easy for a while. He led her out of the noise of the party into the hotel foyer. The lights were brighter—too bright—as if she was now under his spotlight. His gaze slid down her again, desire still sparking in his eyes despite the latent control in his voice.
‘What do you like?’ she questioned sharply as he began to lead her out onto the streets. She shivered against the cold autumn air.
‘Georgie.’
Emma’s pet name for her sounded so exotic on his lips—sexy, even. Her body heated despite the wind, which blew her hair quickly into disarray. She combed her fingers through it, gathering it at her neck, trying to prevent herself from becoming a totally dishevelled mess.
‘I prefer Georgina,’ she said, trying to ignore the way her body hummed as he took her hand and pulled her close against him. Was this what it was like to be protected?
Minutes later she was in the back of his chauffeur-driven car. The light from the streetlamps cast a glow around the interior and she glanced at Santos, startled to find he was watching her intently.
She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap, unable to look into the heat of his eyes.
‘You are a very beautiful woman.’
Georgina tensed. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. ‘You can drop the act now.’ Her words were stiff and she looked up at his face. The angles of his cheekbones were severe in the ever-changing light.
‘I’m enjoying the role.’ His deep voice seemed to ripple around the car, sending pinpricks of heat rushing over her. ‘And you never know who may be listening or watching.’
Georgina glanced at the chauffeur, who appeared to be concentrating on driving. She heard Santos laugh softly and her gaze flew to meet his once more. He really was charming—but on a lethal level. Somewhere deep inside her she recognised him as the kind of man who could hurt her or, worse, destroy her. He was the same type of devil-may-care man her mother had fallen for time and time again, and exactly like her father.
‘You don’t really think I’ll buy that, do you?’ She raised a brow at him, infusing indifference into her body with each syllable.
Cool and aloof. That was the protection she needed.
‘My staff are nothing but discreet,’ he replied as the car came to a stop outside some very exclusive riverside apartments.
‘That is a relief—but then I suppose I’m just another on a very long list as far as they are concerned.’ The haughty demeanour she routinely hid behind sounded in her voice, and from the look on his face, the frown that furrowed his brow, she knew she’d scored a direct hit.
With one final look at her he got out of the car, almost instantly appearing at her door. He held out his hand for her, but the look on his face suggested he was far from happy. For a moment she was worried. Had she pushed things just a little too far, taunting him like that? A man like him was used to people pandering to his ego.
She had the sudden urge to bolt past him and run away. Reason followed swiftly. She wouldn’t help her sister like that, and the shoes she was wearing certainly hadn’t been created for running.
‘If you want to drop this charade you can go home now.’ His voice was rough, edged with exasperation. ‘But just remember, querida, it was your idea.’
He was right. She had started this and she would finish it—but only when she knew her sister could marry the man she loved without any implications from this power-hungry man who now stood waiting for her, looking devastatingly sexy. Did he really mean to keep this up, even in private?
For a moment she wondered if she’d already done enough. They’d been seen leaving the party together. Then she remembered Emma’s smile, the hope that had shone from her eyes. Georgina realised that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, whether they believed their whirlwind romance was real. It only mattered what Emma thought. There was no way she could let her sister think that yet again she was marrying to secure her future. Emma was all she cared about.
She could do this—even if it meant continuing with the charade of attraction.
Taking his hand, she stepped out of the car and looked up at the tall modern building. She’d never given any thought to where he might live, but the clean,