The Italian's Future Bride(2)

'I haven't been doing anything-!' Eyes the colour of warm dark chocolate opened wide and tried their best to look innocent.



'You were hitting on that guy,' Raffaelle accused her.



'We were flirting, that's all! And what do you think you're doing,  Raffaelle?' she protested when he took hold of her hand and turned  towards the exit.



'Taking you home,' he clipped out. 'I don't know why I let you talk me into bringing you here in the first place.'



'For some fun?' Daniella offered up.



'I don't do this kind of fun.'



'That's your big problem, Raffaelle,' she informed him as he trailed her  behind him. 'You don'tdo anything these days other than work yourself  into the ground.'                       
       
           



       



'My choice.'



'To be a grouch.'



A nerve ticked at the corner of his mouth because she was right: he was becoming grouch-a bitter and cynical grouch.



'All because one woman managed to con you into believing she was pure sweetness and light … '



'As you try to do, you mean?'



'Iam all sweetness and light!' Daniella insisted. 'And that wasn't very nice,' she complained. 'Nor do I lie or cheat.'



'Tell that to Gino not to me,'Raffaelle countered. 'If he had seen the  way you were preparing to wrap yourself around that guy, he would call  the wedding off.'



'But Gino isn't here because he prefers to be halfway across the world playing the hot shot tycoon.'



'However, the pressis here-'



Raffaelle stopped walking as a sudden thought hit him. He swung round to pierce her with a hard stare.



'Is that what this is about?' he demanded. 'Did you drag me out to this  thing-which is nothing more than an overpriced knocking shop,' he said  with contempt, 'so that you would be caught on camera playing the vamp  with some other guy just to punish Gino, knowing thatI would be on hand  to haul you out of trouble before you got yourself in too deep?'



'I hate him,' Daniella announced. 'I might even decide not to marry him.  I'm supposed to be the love of his life yet I haven't set eyes on him  in two wh-whole weeks!'



The small break in her voice did it. Raffaelle heard the fight with  tears and released a sigh. 'Come here, you idiot.' He pulled her into  his arms. 'You know Gino worships the ground you walk upon but he is  busy trying to free himself up for that long glorious honeymoon he has  planned for you both.'



'He even sounds like he would rather be doing something else when he  rings me,' she sniffed into his shirt front. 'I'm not a doormat. I  refuse to let him wipe his feet on me!'



Raffaelle shifted his stance.



'You're laughing at me!' Daniella choked out.



'No, I am not.'



What he was actually doing was staring over Daniella's glossy dark head  into the cynical blue eyes of the blonde who had approached him a few  minutes ago. She was now standing about ten feet away being buffeted by  the milling crowd but not noticing because she was too busy looking at  him as if he was a snake.



A sting injected itself down the front of his body. The confusing  signals she was giving off dressed-orun dressed-like she was, while  glaring at him like that, were setting his senses on edge.



Who the hell was she, anyway? Why had he not hung around long enough to find out?



Did he want to know?



His eyes cooled and hardened. No, he didn't, he answered his own  question. Expensive tarts in expensive dresses were ten-a-Euro to buy in  this room. He did not need to buy his women. And this one was more the  type for the guy who was approaching her from behind right now and  eyeing her up and down as if she was his next tasty snack.



And tasty said it, he found himself reluctantly admitting as he ran a  glance down her front until he reached the place where those two  fabulous legs came together.



Was the hair at her crotch the same pale gold colour as the hair on her head?



He shifted again, was vaguely aware of Daniella talking into his shirt  but didn't hear what she said. That damn inconvenient thing called  sexual curiosity was trying to take him over, heating him up like a pot  coming to the boil.



The blonde stiffened, tugging his gaze back to her face to clash with  the shocked look in her eyes. He realised then that she knew what he had  been thinking, her pearly-white skin suffused with heat.



Feeling the spark too,cara ? his glinting eyes mocked her. Well hard damn luck because I am not buying.



The approaching man had reached her-a tall fair haired good-looking guy  who stepped right in behind her and ran his fingers up her bare arms to  her shoulders, then bent to murmur something in her ear.



She quivered-Raffaelle saw it happen. As she slowly blinked her eyes and  turned her head sideways so she was no longer looking at him, he  watched her sumptuous pink mouth tilt into a smile.



She turns on for any man, he observed grimly.



'Hi,' Rachel said, still stinging at the way Raffaelle Villani had just  looked at her as if she was a sex object put on show to be bought.



'Hi to you too,' Mark returned. 'No luck with the appeal approach?'



'Look at him,' she sighed, glancing back at Mr Villani who was now in  the process of curving the clinging dark-haired woman beneath the crook  of his arm.                       
       
           



       



What was he, six-three-six four? Rachel found herself giving him a  thorough once-over. He had a great pair of shoulders inside the black  dinner suit he was wearing, and a mean pair of long powerful legs. His  bright white dress shirt gave the honey-gold tones of his skin at his  throat a warm, tight, healthy glow that annoyingly made the tip of her  tongue grow moist.



He was supposed to be a fantastic athlete, so Elise had said. Watching  him as he began guiding the dark-haired woman through the doors which  led to the hotel foyer, Rachel could see why. He moved with loose-limbed  grace, languid and supple but firm. If you stripped him down to a pair  of running shorts she would be prepared to bet you wouldn't see a single  ripple of unwanted flesh.



Marital status: single. Age: thirty three. Loves snow-skiing and  water-skiing. Owns his own sexy powerboat which he races at the weekend  when he has the time. Owns homes in London, Paris, Monaco and, of  course, his native Milan. Plus a huge private skiing lodge inside the  very prestigious Gigante Park, where he likes to his spend part of his  winters refining his no doubt amazing skills on the ski slopes.  Inherited his wealth from his heavyweight banking family, then went on  to triple that fortune with shrewd investments which pushed him and the  Villani name right to the top of the rich list.



He was, in other words, a tall, dark, very good looking, veryrich  Italian male with a sinful amount of sex appeal and all the conceit and  arrogance that came with such an impressive pedigree.



It was no wonder he'd cut her out without giving her a chance to explain  herself. A man like him was just too darn precious about his own status  as the most eligible catch on the block to think of questioning if a  woman might want to approach him for any reason other than to latch on  to his great body and his lovely money.



Well, Mr Villani, Rachel told his elegant back. Self-obsessed  millionaires are ten-a-penny these days. You only have to look around  this room to see that.



But men of honour were a very rare breed indeed.



'I thought Elise said he was only into blondes,' she said to Mark. 'But  you can't put a hair between him and that black-haired female, so what  chance did I have of getting in there?'



'You idiot,' Mark said. 'Don't you know who the brunette is? That's his  flighty stepsister, Daniella Leeson of Leeson Hotels fame. She's about  to marry his best friend and that other hotel heavy, Gino Rossi-Don't  you ever read any of the stuff I print?'



Rachel gave a slow shake of her head, still watching Raffaelle Villani  as he paused in the foyer, framed like a masterpiece between the two  open doors. He was helping his stepsister on with her coat now-all care  and attention.



Gorgeous face in profile, honesty forced her to admit. With fantastic  high cheekbones and black eyelashes so luxurious she could see even from  this far away, how they hovered like sexy dark shadows just above those  golden cheeks.



When he'd done with the coat he turned his stepsister round and lifted  her chin with a gentle finger, then smiled as he murmured something to  make her smile back at him.



So he possessed killer charm too, when he wanted to unleash it, Rachel  saw, and did not like the stinging flutter she felt suddenly attack the  lining of her lower stomach.



Was this the side of him he'd used on Elise to make the silly fool risk  her marriage for him? The way Elise told it, he had done all the chasing  while she'd tried to keep him at arm's length.