An Heir to Make a Marriage(23)

He’d only invited her to the opera to shatter that image of her in the kitchen. Anything to put her back in an environment where he’d feel more in control.

But in spite of his best efforts, a sense of control eluded him. Rose sat beside him in the VIP section of Siena’s stunning opera house. It had undergone massive reconstruction in recent years—thanks to a major investment from him—and now the roof was open to the elements and the moon lit up the stage as the opera Tosca was performed.

Rose was wearing a black silk dress. The neckline was scooped, showing what appeared to Zac to be acres of soft pale cleavage, and then it fell from under her bust to the floor. Short capped sleeves drew the eye to her toned upper arms. On any other woman Zac would suspect they came from hours being honed at a gym, but he knew she’d earned them from hours of arduous menial work. As much as he’d prefer to think of her as being lazy or idle, he couldn’t fault her that.

For the first time, Zac had to admit to understanding a sliver of why someone like Rose might seize on a chance to get out of her situation. Yet he still hadn’t seen evidence of someone who was overly avaricious or greedy.

She’d refused to tell him anything about her agreement with his grandmother, so he had no way to know what she’d been promised. If she told him then he could negotiate. On the other hand, if she wanted to pit him against Jocelyn wouldn’t she have told him everything? Perhaps she’d been offered such a huge amount of money that she genuinely believed he couldn’t top it?

The circling questions irritated him intensely, because he was a man who dealt in knowns. Not unknowns. And worse than the questions circling in his head was the burning awareness of her. Her scent...those curves, more pronounced with her pregnancy. And this primal thing he felt—stronger every time now when he saw her belly. Mine.

It was too reminiscent of that night when he’d taken her innocence...when he’d wanted to brand her, mark her.

It was only when Zac saw Rose clapping enthusiastically, with suspiciously bright eyes, that he realised he’d all but missed the entire performance because he’d been so fixated on her. Again.

* * *

Rose had been so lost in the beautiful open-air performance that she’d almost been able to block out the man by her side. Almost. But every now and then his hard thigh had brushed hers, or their elbows had connected. His scent had reached her nostrils when he’d shifted in his seat—which he’d done a lot—and she’d had to grit her jaw to try and stop her body from responding with a fresh wave of awareness and desire. So really she hadn’t blocked him out at all.

Everyone was standing now, and moving, and Rose was embarrassed at the emotion that had taken her unawares. She stood and avoided Zac’s too shrewd eyes, feeling a little raw.

As they joined the throng of people making their way out to the street, someone stepped on Rose’s dress from behind, jerking her backwards. She let out a small yelp of surprise, and suddenly Zac was reaching for her and steadying her, pulling her into his arms. The older man who had stepped on her dress was effusive in his apologies and Rose smiled, saying that it was okay, more shaken by the man holding her now than the almost-fall.

After the apologetic man had left she looked up, heart pounding. Zac seemed to be oblivious to the fact that the crowd had to snake around them to go down the stairs, and that they were drawing more than a few looks.

Her body was slowly going on fire from the inside out...every curve pressed against that hard body. She felt panicky. Why wasn’t he moving back, letting her go? He would see in a second how much she wanted him, and she couldn’t bear that humiliation again.

She tried to pull back, but he only tightened his hold. She could feel the swell of her belly pressed against him, and then the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pushing against it. Her eyes widened as adrenaline and lust shot into her system.

Zac said mockingly, ‘Don’t look so shocked. It’s not as if you’re an innocent any more.’

The memory of that kiss came back...the way he’d looked so cool afterwards, unruffled, when she’d been standing there horribly exposed in her desire. ‘But I...I thought you didn’t...’

‘I think the evidence speaks for itself.’

He moved subtly and Rose almost moaned, hardly hearing his taut admission. She could recognise through the haze of desire that he obviously didn’t welcome it. That much was obvious in his grim expression. It was enough to make Rose jerk free and hurry down the steps.

Zac caught up with her, though, and took her hand, keeping her by his side. He said nothing more as they walked through the busy streets outside the opera house to where a driver was waiting to deliver them back to where the helicopter had landed earlier.

When they reached it, after a tense silence in the back of the car, Zac strapped Rose into the seat, his hands brushing against her sensitive breasts.

She bit her lip—hard—and he saw it. He lifted his hand and with his thumb tugged her lip free, rubbing it.

A pulse throbbed between her legs as she watched Zac walk around and take his seat beside her. He didn’t look at her again, but she had the strangest feeling that some silent dialogue had just passed between them and she’d made some tacit agreement...to what?

She was afraid she knew, much as she’d like to deny it. It was in every pulsing erogenous zone in her body. Engorged with blood and heat.

Anticipation gripped her as the helicopter lowered itself down over the villa grounds, and Rose desperately tried to bring her body back under control. Because she knew that as soon as they got out Zac would look at her with that familiar cool, disdainful expression and she’d have been made a fool. Again. No matter what his body might have said.

Zac’s brooding silence, and the speed with which he drove the Jeep back to the villa, seemed only to confirm Rose’s suspicion that he wanted her out of his sight as soon as possible.

When they stopped, she almost fell out of the Jeep. She was eager to put some distance between them before he saw how jittery she was.

She was almost inside the villa when Zac said from behind her, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

She turned around slowly in the main doorway to see Zac standing in front of the Jeep. He was pulling at his bow tie, undoing it and then flipping open the top button of his shirt.

Rose felt a bead of sweat roll down between her breasts. She could hardly breathe. ‘I’m going to bed...’

Zac’s face was half in the shadows, and when he stepped forward she gasped to see the sheer naked hunger in his gaze. She was rooted to the spot as he came closer, even though she knew she should turn and go.

There was too much between them—too much unsaid and tangled and dark. He hated her. But he wanted her. And she was weak...and she wanted him.

And then he was in front of her, touching her. He placed a hand on her waist and pulled her into him, and the same rogue part of her that had allowed him to seduce her whilst knowing it was unutterably selfish and wicked surged back into life.

And worst of all, as he bent his head and blotted out the world with his mouth on hers, she knew that she was giving in because she desperately wanted to pretend for a few weak moments that perhaps animosity and resentment wasn’t all that Zac felt for her...

* * *

Zac’s mouth was on Rose’s and he was drowning in soft sweetness. Her tongue was tangling hotly with his, arms twining around his neck. And he didn’t give a damn about anything else in that moment. Except this. Her. Now.

He knew that if he didn’t move while he still retained some control over his motor functions they might well end up on the ground right there, and he’d waited too long to take her like a rutting animal.

He lifted her into his arms for sheer expediency and walked through the villa, straight to his bedroom suite. The room was in darkness, and Zac lowered Rose to her feet and reached for a light. He wanted to see every inch of her. Laid bare to him. He was done with fighting his desire for her.

When he straightened he took off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. Not taking his eyes off hers, he undid his shirt and took that off too. As much as he’d have enjoyed her doing it, he was too impatient now.

She was just standing in front of him, looking transfixed, as if she couldn’t really believe where she was. And something glowed in those huge eyes—something he didn’t want to see, because it blurred the present into the past. So he said, ‘Turn around,’ with a roughness to his voice that he didn’t relish. It betrayed too much.

But then she did turn around, and he forgot about anything else. Her zip had been driving him crazy since he’d walked out of the villa behind her at the start of the evening. He pulled it down to where it ended, just above her buttocks. And then he pushed the dress over her shoulders and off, so that it fell to her waist.

Rose’s hair was caught up into a chignon of sorts. He could see where the pins stuck out slightly, as if she’d struggled to tame it. Something about that hint of vulnerability struck him, and it was not welcome. To defuse it, he pulled the pins out and her hair fell around her shoulders. Soft, silky, fragrant. He wanted to run it through his fingers and bury his face in it... He stopped himself. That was the kind of thing crazy, besotted men did.