The Bride Fonseca Needs(19)

Max shrugged and looked down for a moment. 'He gets to me like no one  else can. Pushes my buttons. I always feel like I'm just catching up to  him, two steps behind.'

Darcy could see it then: the intense hunger Max had to feel he wasn't  in competition with his brother any more. Whatever had happened when  their parents had split up had marked these two men indelibly.

Feeling tight inside, she said, 'Well, I don't like being used to score a point. Next time find someone else.'

She went to move away, to go back inside, but Max caught her before she  could leave with his hands around her waist, holding her fast. His eyes  were blazing down into hers.

'I kissed you because I want you, Darcy. If there was anger there at my  brother it was forgotten the moment my mouth touched yours. I do not  want you to be under any illusions. When I kiss you I know exactly who  I'm kissing and why.'

Darcy stared up at him, transfixed by the intensity of his expression.

'Maledizione. I can't think when you look at me like that.'

He pulled her closer and Darcy fell against him, unsteady in her shoes.  She braced her hands against his chest. He was warm. Hard.

'Max...' Darcy protested weakly-too weakly. 'There's no one here to see.'

'Good,' he said silkily. 'Because this is not motivated by any reason other than the fact that I want you.'                       
       
           



       

One hand cupped the back of Darcy's head and the other was tight around  her waist, almost lifting her off her feet. When Max's mouth met hers  she was aghast to realise how badly she wanted it, and she met him with a  fervour that should have embarrassed her. But it didn't. She wound her  arms around his neck, her breasts swelling against his chest.

He backed Darcy into the wall, so it supported her, and their kiss was  bruising and desperate. Two weeks of pent-up frustration and denial.  Max's hands were on her hips and he gripped her so tightly she wondered  dimly if the marks of his fingers would be on her flesh.

Darcy became aware of a noise after a few long seconds of letting Max  suck her into a vortex of mindlessness and realised it was someone  clearing his throat in a very obvious manner when she pulled back and  was mortified to see a staff member-also mortified-waiting for them to  come up for air.

Max released her hips from his grip and stood back. His hair was  mussed, his tie awry. Darcy felt as if she might float away from the  ground, she was so light-headed.

Max turned to face the red-faced staff member, who was obviously eager to pass on his message so he could escape.

'Sorry to disturb you, Signor Roselli, your car is ready when you are.'

The young man left and Darcy looked at Max, feeling stupid. 'Car? Where are we going?'

'The villa-Lake Como-for a long weekend.'

She must have looked as stupid as she felt.

'Our honeymoon?' he said.

Max had informed her a week before that they'd go away for a long  weekend after the wedding, just so that everything looked as authentic  as possible. She'd completely forgotten. Until now.

And suddenly the thought of a few days alone in a villa with Max was terrifying.

'Surely we can just stay here in Rome? There's so much to prepare for Scotland-' she gabbled.

Max was shaking his head and taking her hand to lead her back inside. 'We're going to Como, Darcy. Non-negotiable.'

He let go of her hand inside the door to the dining room and, as if  sensing her growing desire to escape said firmly, 'Say goodbye to your  parents, Darcy. I'll meet you in the foyer in an hour.'

She watched, still a little numb, as he strode over to some of the  guests to start saying goodbye and felt a looming sense of futility wash  over her. A weekend alone in a villa with Max Fonseca Roselli...after  that kiss... She didn't stand a chance.





CHAPTER SEVEN

THE JOURNEY TO his private jet passed mainly in silence. Max had been  waiting for Darcy in the lobby, as promised, and she'd been aware of  every move he'd made in the car. Now, in the jet, he took a seat with  graceful athleticism.

As much as she didn't want to attract his attention, it was hard to  drag her eyes off him. He'd changed into dark trousers and a dark grey  lightweight long-sleeved top that did little to disguise the sheer  breadth and power of his chest. The grey of his top seemed to make his  eyes burn more intensely, and Darcy looked away quickly, in case she was  caught, as the small plane left the ground.

She'd changed too, into a 'going-away' outfit-a soft flowing  knee-length sleeveless dress of dark cream with a matching jacket. Her  hair was down and her scalp still prickled from the pins that had been  holding it up, along with the veil.

She gently massaged her skull and thought of the poignant moment that  had caught her unawares when she'd packed the dress and veil away in  their boxes. She'd been thinking what a pity it was that she'd never  have a daughter to hand it down to.

The stylist had seen her expression and said, 'Don't worry, Signora Roselli, we'll take good care of them for you.'

Hearing Signora Roselli had been enough to break her out of that  momentary weakness and bring her back to reality. She was only Signora  Roselli because Max craved world domination, and she-the fool-was  helping him achieve it.

'For a new bride you're surprisingly quiet. Nervous about our wedding night, darling?'

Darcy cursed Max. If there was one mood in which he was pretty much  irresisitible it was this more playful one that he so rarely displayed.

She glared at him and quirked a brow. 'I wouldn't know-not having much  experience of being a new bride, and having even less inclination to be  one ever again.'

Max tutted and smiled wolfishly. 'Don't worry, dolcezza mia, I'll be gentle with you.'

To Darcy's horror she felt herself getting hot, wondering what it would  be like if this was real and Max was really promising to be gentle. She  had an image of him with that intent look on his face as he thrust into  her carefully, inch by inch... Between her legs she spasmed, her  muscles reacting to her lurid imagination.                       
       
           



       

Horrified at her wayward body and, worse, at her desire to know what it  would be like, she said curtly, 'Save it, Max. I'm not a virgin.'

She looked away when he said, 'So I don't need to be gentle, then? Good, because when we come together-'

Darcy snapped open her seatbelt and stood up, swaying a little as the  plane hit some turbulence. She gripped the back of the seat to stay  steady and said, 'I'm going to lie down. I'm tired.'

Max caught her wrist as she went past him and when she looked down he  was frowning, all humour gone. 'What the hell, Darcy...? I'm just  teasing you.'

She pulled her wrist free, already feeling like a prize idiot to have  risen to such easy bait. 'I'm fine. I told you-I'm just tired. It's been  a long day.'

She made her way to the small bedroom and slammed the door shut behind  her, pressing the backs of her hands to hot cheeks. She cursed herself  roundly as she paced back and forth. Of all the stupid- Why had she let  Max wind her up like that?

She sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly weary. Because the truth  was that this whole day had got to her much more than she'd ever  imagined it would, and his teasing had just highlighted that.

When she'd agreed to this marriage with Max she'd somehow believed that  she could do it and remain relatively intact. Unscathed by the man.

But that had all been shot to hell. It had been shot to hell after that  night in his office, when the true depth of her attraction to him had  become painfully apparent.

Why did he have to find her attractive? This wasn't how the world  worked-men like Max did not find women like Darcy attractive. She had no  doubt that it was an aberration-a freakish anomaly. A desire borne out  of the fact that she was so different from his usual type of woman.  Stress-induced. Something-induced. But not real.

Her circling thoughts brought her back to one question: why had she  followed that crazy instinct to apply for a job working for the man in  the first place?

With a heartfelt groan Darcy flopped back onto the bed and shut her  eyes, willing sleep to come and make her mind blissfully blank.

* * *

A sleek car was waiting for them when they arrived at the small airport  just outside Milan. When their bags had been stowed Max sat in the  driver's seat and Darcy got into the passenger side. The car was  luxurious, and obviously high-end. When Max drove out of the airport it  felt as if it was barely skimming the road.

He must have seen something of her appreciation because he said, 'This  is the new Falcone road car. I'm friends with Rafaele-he lends me cars  to test-drive every now and then.'

Darcy's mouth quirked, even though she was still wary after her  outburst earlier. But she couldn't let Max see that he could get to her  so easily. 'The perks of being friends with one of the world's most  famous car manufacturers?'