Claimed by the Italian: Virgin: Wedded at the Italian's Convenience / Count Giovanni's Virgin / The Italian's Unwilling Wife

A tap on the door.

She resisted the impulse to scramble beneath the feather-light duvet and pretend to be asleep, because she wasn’t a coward and he was only human.

She watched him enter. Formidably handsome, dressed in a dark grey business suit, he was every inch the incredibly wealthy banker—one of the world’s movers and shakers. She had to remind herself he was also a heartless womaniser who only had to flick a finger to have the world’s most beautiful females flocking, each and every one of them believing she could hold his interest for longer than the last, each and every one of them getting the elbow when coming up against his low boredom threshold. And his boredom was utterly inevitable according to Penny Fleming, who should know.

‘Madonna diavola! Do you have to look like a terrified rabbit?’ Broad shoulders rigid, he strode into the room. If his supposed future wife was going to look as if the devil himself had come to get her every time she saw him, then the deception that was necessary to his mother’s continued good progress was dead in the water!

She’d wondered if he would notice her new hairstyle and comment. Of course he hadn’t. All he’d noticed about her was her resemblance to a rabbit! ‘You spook me!’ she confessed on a mumble, pulling the edges of the swamping bathrobe she’d found in the en suite bathroom closer together.

‘I? In what way?’

He looked genuinely puzzled, brows drawing together above those spectacular golden eyes, so she told him. ‘You’re like a steamroller squashing an ant. You want something. You get it. Never mind the objections of lesser beings! Feeling like an ant in your way is not fun.’

His expressive mouth twisted wryly. ‘I see.’

Not used to tiptoeing around the finer feelings of his employees, because they were paid handsomely to perform their duties and were well used to jumping when he said jump, he had seen no reason to treat Lily Frome any differently.

She—or her charity—was being paid to act the part of his fiancée for a short while, which, logically, made her his employee. But her reaction to him told him he was going to have to tread more carefully in what he could now see was a delicate situation. He must get her on board or the deception would fall flat on its face.

‘I’ll have to take care to make a detour around any ant that gets in my way.’

His slow smile was pure magic. Lily shivered. She hated the way he could affect her but, annoyingly, she didn’t seem able to do anything about it.

On the whole it was better for her equilibrium when he simply barked out his orders and dismissed her, she decided wretchedly. And when he asked, ‘Have you eaten?’ all she could do was dumbly shake her head.

‘Good.’ That heartbreaker smile flashed again. ‘I’ve ordered takeaway.’ He advanced, held out his hand. ‘Come.’

Looking pointedly away from that outstretched hand, because the temptation to slide her own into its lean, strong warmth was really intense, Lily muttered, ‘Not hungry,’ just as her empty stomach gave a betraying growl of protest. ‘And I’m not dressed,’ she added for good measure.

Carefully holding onto his patience, Paolo countered, smooth as cream, ‘Come as you are. It’s not a party! Besides, we need to talk. We’ve an early start, so it’s now or never, because I shall have to work on the flight out.’

He would think she was behaving ridiculously, Lily conceded. And she was. Ignoring his hand, she slid her legs out of the bed and made sure she was decently covered by the huge bathrobe. Lifting the skirts so she didn’t trip over the trailing length, she followed him out of the room and gave herself a pep talk.

Theirs was a business arrangement—a shady business arrangement, she reminded herself forcefully. She’d agreed to go along with it despite her reservations, so it was time she started to behave like an adult around him. They would have to talk things over—she certainly needed to know if the part-timers had proven willing to take over her work while she was away—and she was going to have to make herself stop having these attacks of juvenile silliness every time she looked at him.

Trouble was, he had the sort of magnetic sex appeal she had never encountered before, and that, combined with his staggering male beauty, was potent stuff. But she could discount that. Of course she could. Hormones and lust. What she knew of his character was more than enough to put those two evils back in their boxes.

As they approached the glass-topped table in the dining area, a uniformed waiter appeared from the clinically sterile kitchen. Another followed, pushing a trolley, and the table was already laid with silverware and sparkling crystal.

Lily’s eyes widened. This was Paolo’s idea of a takeaway?

The sudden and hastily suppressed urge to giggle made her feel as if her lungs were about to burst. For her, a takeaway was a rare treat consisting of cod and chips in a warm, greasy package, or foil cartons of sweet and sour chicken and fried rice from the local Chinese restaurant.

This—giant prawns with a delicate lemon sauce, slices of meltingly tender venison on a bed of wild mushrooms, a syllabub to die for—was obviously a wealthy man’s idea of a takeaway!

Too busy enjoying every mouthful, and reflecting on how the other half lived, Lily forgot the deceitful part she was expected to play during the coming two weeks for long enough to relax and ask, ‘Why champagne?’ She’d only tasted it once before, at a friend’s wedding, and hadn’t liked it. So this had to be something special because she’d already got through two glasses.

‘To celebrate the start of—’ He’d been about to say Our hopefully brief association but, recalling her rather thin skin, substituted ‘Of our mutually satisfactory business arrangement.’

He was leaning back in his seat and his eyes were gleaming in an almost sultry way, she registered, with a strange and unwelcome inner flutter, coming straight back down to earth with a thump.

She put her champagne flute down on the table with a clatter. ‘I don’t feel like celebrating. Not when our so-called business arrangement is based on a whopping lie.’

‘A white lie aimed to please a frail elderly lady,’ he reminded her, careful not to snap, as was his inclination when his judgement was questioned. ‘And you might be interested to hear that a certain Kate Johnson will be in place at the charity by the end of the month. She will take care of fundraising and day-to-day organisation. She has impeccable references, having worked as a fundraiser for a well-known charity based in Birmingham. Also, substantial funds have been placed in the charity’s account,’ he completed with cool precision.

The slightest dip of his head brought the waiter gliding forward to receive his instruction that coffee would be taken in the living room.

Squashed again, Lily recognised, as he escorted her through. The slightest hint of criticism flattened as he rolled over her with his reminders of what Life Begins would be gaining at his no doubt vast expense.

‘May I suggest,’ he drawled, as he watched with concealed amusement as she tried to perch on the edge of the slippery surface of the leather sofa and control the wayward swamping folds of the vastly over-large robe she was wearing, ‘that for the next two weeks we pull together, not in different directions? As far as my mother is concerned we are engaged to be married. She will expect us to behave as lovers—and I hope you will try—but if you can’t manage that you must act as if I am at the very least your friend and not your enemy.’

Lily’s face flamed. Act as if they were lovers? The very thought made her heart beat so fast she was sure it would leap out of her chest. He could take that preposterous suggestion and bury it deep in the nearest dustbin!

Thankfully, she was spared the need to give an immediate answer by the arrival of the coffee tray and Paolo’s final dismissal of the waiter.

Stealing a look at him from beneath tangled lashes, she felt her tummy flip alarmingly. It was so unfair! Just look at him—every inch the powerful alpha male, sophisticated, breathtakingly wealthy and staggeringly good to look at. Sexy. In spades. She could have coped much better if he’d been fat and bald with the sex appeal of a frog!

Clamorous warning bells had rung at the prospect of even pretending to be his lover. For him it would be tongue-in-cheek play-acting, but for her it would be too dangerous to contemplate.

Even before the waiter had closed the door behind him, she blurted, ‘This scam you’ve dreamed up can’t work! For a start, friends don’t trample on each other, treat each other as if their opinions are worthless. So it will be really difficult to pretend you’re my friend!’

He’d taken a chair on the opposite side of the low coffee table. He poured dark, hot coffee into small gold-rimmed cups, his movements deft and economical, and conceded, ‘I see your point. However, now matters are arranged, everything smoothly in place, it will be different—I promise.’

In all areas of his life, business and personal, he made decisions and acted on them, allowing nothing to get in his way. Using persuasion to counter an objecting voice was unusual for him, but with so much at stake he had to grit his teeth, keep his temper, and try.

He smiled. The slow, sexy smile that dazzled her eyes and set her pulses racing.

‘If you have an opinion, and it is valid, it will be listened to.’

Big of him! ‘Does there always have to be a caveat?’ She accepted the cup he offered. Whatever opinion she offered he was bound to say it wasn’t valid!

‘Scusi!’ He flashed her a disarming grin and relaxed back in his chair. When she wasn’t regarding him as the devil incarnate she could be amusing company. Come to think of it, he might enjoy moulding this stubborn, unremarkable scrap of female opposition to his will. Brilliant eyes assessed her thoroughly. Maybe she wasn’t quite as unremarkable as he’d thought. ‘The new hairstyle suits you perfectly. Pretty.’

He caught the surprise in those big grey eyes before she looked quickly away, her pale skin pinkening, and to his own amazement he found he felt ashamed of himself. He hadn’t been treating her like a human being with feelings that could be hurt—or completely squashed, as she’d accused.

Her hands—delicate, fine-boned, small hands, he noted for the first time—were unsteady as she replaced her cup on its saucer. And, realising it was time to quit while he was ahead, he said gently, ‘Goodnight, Lily. It’s late and we have an early start. Sleep well.’

He watched with veiled satisfaction as she scrambled to her feet and exited in swamping folds of out-of-control bathrobe.

Tread softly, a little gentle flattery, and the next two weeks would be sailed through with no problems at all.

CHAPTER FOUR

AS SHE boarded the Venini private jet, with Paolo’s hand lightly insistent on the small of her back—a reminder, as if she needed one, that it was now far too late to back out—Lily felt seriously light-headed. Partly nerves at the prospect of what lay ahead of her—her role in a distasteful deception—and partly, she had to be honest, because Paolo was being nice to her.

She’d gone to bed with his compliment about her new hairstyle throbbing in her ears and heating her skin, totally amazed that he had actually noticed something positive about her appearance.

She could have got over that, of course she could, but then the way his eyes had registered stunned approval when she’d presented herself early this morning, wearing the wickedly expensive cream-coloured linen suit and heeled sandals that she’d selected to travel in from the clothes that had been picked out for her, had really knocked her for six.