Although she was shockingly close. Two boyfriends. He still couldn’t believe she’d only been with two men. She truly was innocent. And yet she’d seemed embarrassed of her number. He wondered what she would think if he told her how many women he’d slept with. Something he would never do, even if he knew the number.
“I’m sorry I don’t dance,” he said slowly.
She looked down. “It’s all right.”
The scent of her hair was like wild roses. He moved closer, fascinated by the swoop of her neck, by the snub edge of her chin. Her cheeks blushed a soft pink against creamy skin as her dark eyelashes fluttered. He asked suddenly, “How old are you, Lilley?”
“Twenty-three.” She furrowed her brow. “Why? How old are you?”
“Ancient to you. Thirty-five.”
“Thirty-five, and still not married?” She sounded as astonished as his shareholders. “Where I come from, most people are married by thirty.”
“Advantageous for farm life, I assume.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t exactly come from a—”
“In my world,” he interrupted, “a man marries to ensure his line, to make sure he has a son to inherit his title and estate when he’s dead.”
She flashed him a grin. “Gee, you make it all sound so romantic.”
“It’s not about romance, Lilley,” he said sharply. “Marriage is an alliance. My wife will be a leader in society. An heiress with proper lineage, the future mother to my heir.”
Her grin faded. “Like Olivia Bianchi.”
Even hearing her name irritated him. “Yes.”
Lilley’s eyes were huge beneath the glittering light of the chandeliers. “So if she’s the perfect bride for you, why am I here?”
“She threatened to leave if I didn’t propose, so I told her to go.”
Lilley blinked. “I feel sorry for her.”
He barked a laugh. “Do not waste your sympathy on Olivia. She can take care of herself.”
“She’s in love with you!” She swallowed. “It was wrong of me to agree to this—this charade. When you’re just trying to control her.”
“I have no desire ever to see Olivia again,” he bit out.
She frowned, clearly unconvinced. “When did you decide that?”
His eyes met hers. “I knew it from the moment I saw you in that dress.”
Her lips parted in shock. It took her several moments to speak. “Um. Would you get me a drink?” she croaked. “And maybe some food? I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Certamente,” he murmured. “What would you like? A martini? A merlot?”
“You choose.”
“We’ll start with champagne.” Reaching out a hand, he cupped her cheek. “Wait here, if you please, cara.”
He felt her shiver beneath his touch, saw her lick her lips as she said with a trembling voice, “I’ll wait.”
He turned away, but after a few steps could not resist looking back at her. Lilley stood frozen on the edge of the dance floor, gloriously alluring in her red dress, watching him. She was surrounded by men who were already darting her greedy sideways glances.
Damned vultures. Alessandro scowled. He would hurry.
As he strode across the ballroom, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such need to possess any woman.
And he could have her. She was free and ripe for the taking. Yes, she was his employee, but he was the one who’d made that rule. He was the boss. He could break his own rules at will.
Alessandro thought again of the ten bedrooms at his villa. An image floated through his mind of Lilley spread naked on his bed, her full, generous mouth curved into a sensual smile, her deep-brown eyes looking up at him with a haze of longing and need. He nearly stumbled over his own feet.
And just like that, his decision was made. His body tightened as exhilaration raced through him. Employee or not, Lilley would be his.
Tonight. He would have her in his bed tonight.
CHAPTER THREE
LILLEY felt men in tuxedos jostle her on the edge of the dance floor, felt the annoyed glare of chic, half-starved women in black designer gowns around her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. Alessandro’s dark head towered above the crowds as he strode towards the bar, trailed by wide-eyed, adoring groupies.
And she was rapidly becoming one of them. Lilley exhaled. What in heaven’s name was she doing? He’d told her outright that their date would only be an illusion. And yet, all night, Alessandro’s eyes, his touch, had told her differently. Her body felt hot, her skin flushed and pink at the memory of his fingertips stroking her bare back. Of his fingers running lightly along her arm, his lips brushing her cheek.
Just being around him made her feel like a different woman. A bolder, braver one.
She didn’t know why or how. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. The way his hard, muscular body felt against her own. Maybe it was his scent, like exotic lands and spice and sunshine. He made her feel tense and tingly and hot, and made her soul feel all jumbled and confused.
He made her feel a hunger she’d never known, and every moment she was near him, the hunger grew.
Lilley swallowed, rubbing her tense neck. She just had to make it through the night. She’d keep her distance, keep her mouth shut, have some dinner and drink champagne for a couple of hours. Surely she could manage that? And tomorrow, it would all be nothing but a dream. On Monday she could go back to the file room, and Prince Alessandro Caetani would forget her existence.
She couldn’t possibly believe his interest in her could be real. There was no way on the green earth that Alessandro would choose Lilley over Olivia Bianchi.
I have no desire ever to see Olivia again. She heard the echo of his husky voice. I knew it from the moment I saw you in that dress.
An electric current coursed through her body at the memory. She couldn’t forget how he’d pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he spoke to politicians and football stars. She couldn’t forget how his hot gaze had slowly perused the length of her body when they’d left the boutique, or the way he’d protected her past the paparazzi. A strange new tension had consumed her all night, causing her heart to beat too fast and her breasts to rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths against the snug bodice of her gown.
Maybe it was a good thing Alessandro didn’t dance after all. If she felt his hard body swaying against hers, she might have hyperventilated and fallen like a stone on the dance floor. Every time their eyes met, every time he touched her, Lilley wanted things she could barely confess, even to herself.
“Lilley?”
Jeremy stood in front of her, his mouth agape at her tight red dress. He pushed up his black-framed glasses. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh. Hi Jeremy,” Lilley said weakly. Licking her lips, she glanced at the black-haired woman behind him. “Hi, Nadia.”
Her roommate’s face was the picture of misery. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Lilley,” she choked out. “We never meant to hurt you. We never meant …”
“Stop apologizing,” Jeremy told her. His Adam’s apple bobbed over his bow tie as he glared at Lilley. “We would have told you days ago, if you’d let us. But you’ve avoided us. Avoided me.”
Lilley’s