Lilley closed her eyes. That morning, she’d been too angry to listen to his words. Jeremy and Nadia had betrayed her, pure and simple. She’d done nothing wrong. Right?
Right?
But suddenly all she wanted to do was prove Jeremy wrong. To be one of the glamorous, carefree, fearless girls who wore sparkly clothes and danced, laughed and drank champagne. To be the girl courted by a knight in shining armor.
To be the girl who attended a ball with a prince.
She wasn’t a coward. She wasn’t. She could be as brave and ruthless as anyone. She could watch Prince Alessandro and learn!
Lilley opened her eyes. “I accept.”
He looked down at her. “Do you understand, Lilley?” he said evenly. “It’s not a real date. There will be nothing between us tomorrow. Absolutely nothing.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she said. “Monday I’ll go back to the file room. You’ll go back to Rome and probably Miss Bianchi, when you’re done teaching her your little lesson. I’ll continue to work for you and you’ll never bother me again. Perfect.”
He stared at her, then snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “You continue to surprise me, Lilley,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around her waist. “Come. We haven’t much time.”
As he led her out of the office, she felt a rush of sensation from the heaviness of his arm around her. Trying to ignore the wobble of her knees, she glanced back at the file cart. “But I haven’t finished my work—”
“It will be arranged.”
“And I don’t have a dress!”
His lips curved. “You will.”
She looked up at him, annoyed. “Who am I, Cinderella? Are you supposed to be my fairy godmother? I’m not going to let you buy me a dress!”
In the hallway, he pushed the button to summon the elevator then took her hand in his own. “Of course you will.” He gently pushed some strands of brown hair out of her eyes. “You will let me do exactly as I please, and I will give you an evening of pleasure. A beautiful gown, the envy of your coworkers and revenge against the people who betrayed you. It will be … an interesting night.”
Lilley breathed in his scent of clean skin and sandalwood, of seduction and power. She felt his palm against her own, rough and hot, and her pulse quickened, sending shivers up and down her virgin body. “All right. Yes.”
His dark eyes gleamed in the shadows of the hallway. “Yes?”
“Yes to the dress. To your help.” She licked her lips and gave him a trembling smile. “Yes to everything, your highness.”
“Call me Alessandro.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. She felt the press of his smooth, sensual lips and the heat of his breath against her skin, and gasped as fire raced up her arm and down the length of her body, igniting her like a match thrown into gasoline. “And women always do,” he murmured.
She licked her lips, dazed. “What?”
He straightened. His dark eyes were hot as a smile curled his sensual lips.
“Say yes,” he whispered. “To everything.”
CHAPTER TWO
EVENING fog had rolled in, seeping beneath Alessandro’s tuxedo as he stepped out of the limo onto the red carpet outside the hundred-year-old mansion on Nob Hill. It was August, but the fog was clammy and damp against his skin, a cold wet slap across the face.
Alessandro was grateful. A cold slap was exactly what he needed at the moment.
Flashbulbs of the waiting paparazzi popped around him as he heard Lilley’s high heels clack against the concrete then step softly onto the red carpet behind him. Alessandro’s body tightened. Overwhelming desire crackled through his blood, a shocking need that had begun the moment he’d gotten his first real look at her face in his office.
And now it was a hundred times worse. Just the drive in the limo had been almost unbearable, as he sat beside her. He hadn’t known she was so beautiful.
He felt Lilley’s graceful arm wrap around his, felt the light, gentle pressure of her hand against his forearm, felt the warmth of her touch through his tuxedo jacket.
With a shiver of desire, he looked down at her.
He’d noticed the mousy file clerk weeks ago. Rosy-cheeked and brown-haired, always wearing shapeless, unattractive dresses, she’d looked barely more than twenty and fresh from the country. After watching her veer away from him in a panic with her cart whenever their paths crossed, he’d been curious enough to have Mrs. Rutherford pull a copy of the girl’s file. But he hadn’t discovered anything very interesting there. She’d moved to San Francisco in June, and the file-room position was apparently her first job since working as a hotel housekeeper in Minneapolis a few years ago. Everything about her was forgettable, even her name.
Except that was no longer true.
Alessandro exhaled. He’d intended to teach Olivia she could be replaced with anyone, even an unfashionable, plump, plain file clerk, fresh from the farm. But the joke was on him, it seemed.
How come he’d never really seen Lilley Smith until today?
Unfashionable? A personal stylist at a luxury boutique had poured Lilley into a long, slinky red dress with spaghetti straps. Backless and daringly low-cut, the red knit gown seemed to cling to her breasts, teasing a man’s gaze, threatening at any moment to reveal too much.
Plump? The dress showed off the curves her baggy clothes had hidden. Her breasts and hips were generous and wide, her waist small. She had the shockingly feminine figure that used to drive men wild … and still did. The classic 1950s Marilyn Monroe curves that made any man break out in a sweat. A droplet formed on Alessandro’s forehead just looking at her.
And plain? That was the biggest laugh of all. Alessandro had seen the rare beauty of her naked face up close in his office—but now, after Sergio’s makeup and hair team had done their work, her loveliness was shocking. Kohl and mascara darkened her deep-brown eyes, and red lipstick highlighted the seductive curve of her full, generous mouth.
Lilley’s long, light-brown hair tumbled seductively down her bare shoulders and naked back.
Alessandro had watched her for weeks from a distance, but it was only today that he’d finally seen Lilley Smith for what she truly was.
A beauty.
A sex kitten.
A bombshell.
As they walked down the red carpet towards the sweeping steps of the hundred-year-old Harts Mansion, the paparazzi went crazy, shouting questions.
“Where’s Olivia? Did you two break up?”
“Who’s the new girl?”
“Yeah, who’s the sexy brunette?”
Alessandro gave them a half smile and a brusque wave. He was accustomed to being followed and photographed wherever he went, from his palace in Rome to his yacht in Sardinia to his North American headquarters in San Francisco. It was the price he paid for being successful and a bachelor. But as he led Lilley down the red carpet, her feet dragged behind him. He glanced down at her, and realized she was shaking.
“What is it?” he said beneath his breath.
“They’re staring at me,” she said in a low voice.
“Of course they’re staring.” Alessandro turned to her, brushing hair away from her eyes. “So am I.”
“Just