‘Take your hair down for me,’ he insisted again.
She came plunging back down to earth. ‘No!’
Telling herself she didn’t care about the jaw that tightened in displeasure, she took several steps away from his hot, tempting body.
Focus, Ruby!
The last time she’d mixed business with pleasure, she’d almost ended up becoming the one thing she despised above all else—a participant in infidelity. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known Simon was married. The very thought of what could’ve happened made shame lodge in her belly.
She was here to get Narciso Valentino to honour his deal with her, not to get pulled into the same dangerous vortex of emotions that led to nothing but pain and heartache.
Her father’s inability to limit his sexual urges to his marital bed and her mother’s indecision whether to fight or turn a blind eye had made her childhood a living hell. It’d been the reason why she’d slept most nights with her headphones on and music blaring in her ears. Even then she’d been unable to block out the blistering rows or her mother’s heart-wrenching sobs.
And after her experience with Simon, there was no way would she allow herself to jump on that unpredictable roller coaster.
She took another step back, despite the magnetic pull of desire dragging her to Narciso. Despite the soul-deep notion that sex with him would be pulse-poundingly breathtaking. Despite—
Despite nothing!
Her treacherous genetic make-up didn’t mean she would allow herself to fall into the same trap as her mother just because an unrepentant, unscrupulous playboy like Narciso Valentino crooked his wicked finger.
But she couldn’t risk alienating him before she got what she’d come here for. Licking tingling lips, she forced her brain to track.
She cast her gaze around the large, luxuriously appointed suite. Seeing the extensive, well-stocked bar on the far side of the room, she made a beeline for it. ‘Here, let me get you another drink.’
‘You don’t need to get me drunk to have your way with me, amante.’
She flushed and stopped, whirling to find him directly behind her. The sheer size of him, the arousal stamped so clearly in his eyes, made her breath fracture. ‘Stop calling me that.’
A small smile played around his exquisite mouth. ‘You know what it means.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m Italian.’
‘And I’m Sicilian. Big difference, but we will speak your language for now.’
‘Whatever language we speak, I don’t want you referring to me as a...as your...’
‘Lover?’
‘Yes. I don’t like it.’
‘What do you want me to call you?’
‘Just call me Ruby.’ She didn’t mind telling him her name. In order to explain her presence here, she would have to disclose who she was.
So no harm done.
‘Ruby.’
Definitely lots and lots of harm done. The way he said her name—wrapped his mouth and tongue around it in a slow caress—made her pulse leap crazily.