Don’t romanticize her, idiot. She’s a gold-digging bitch. Lovelier than most, but still just after the same thing–money, prestige, power. Always on to the next man who could provide those things. What he was after was a good holiday fuck. Something to take the edge off his unusually prolonged sexual abstinence. The doggy bag was just the fastest way to resolve her issue, to get her out of the restaurant and into his bed.
“Relax,” Luca murmured, speaking to her reflection in the elevator’s glass door. Her eyes darted to his then shifted away. “I won’t bite,” he couldn’t resist teasing, “unless you want me to.”
He saw her blanch, and Luca swore silently when she laughed in a strained manner. Was she fucking thinking about Markos again? Cared about his friend more than Luca thought she did? Worse, was she just giving herself over to him while still pining for Markos because she was desperate now and Luca was her next meal ticket?
He deposited the paper bag carelessly on the table in the foyer of his suite. He gestured for her to precede him into the living room. Her eyes swept around the spacious suite and landed on the blue and white mural that took up one wall of the living room.
She approached it and peered at it more closely. “They’re made of small squares with the Greek key pattern,” she said animatedly, a bit too much, the way one did when one was masking how uncomfortable one was. “Oh, it’s a closed meander with eight horizontal bars. How clever!”
She was referring to the labyrintine pattern of the lines that created the illusion of “meandering.” Luca was surprised by her knowledge. “I took up Fine Arts in college,” she explained at the look of surprise he hadn’t hidden well. The press write-ups had made her sound like a freeloader.
He removed his jacket and draped it on a cobalt sofa. “This is the model suite. My sister was allowed free rein in decorating it.”
“It’s very beautiful.” She twirled about slowly, taking in the design of the room.
“Management just picked the elements they wanted to go with in the other rooms. The Konstantinos are a more conservative lot when it comes to their interiors.” He crossed to the bar. "Would you like a drink?”
She started walking around the room, trailing a hand on the couches, the coffee table top, the throw pillows. Luca imagined her hand on his body trailing a sensual path. She was so lost in her discovery that Luca had to repeat his question.
“Would you like a drink?”
She blinked and her reverie was gone. Back was the wary but curious glint in her brown eyes. “No, thank you.”
Luca downed a gulp of whiskey. The urge to throw her on top of the bed, slam inside her, and have her moaning and writhing was so overwhelming that he gripped the tumbler harder than necessary. The cautiousness in her eyes was now spreading to her body. The rigidity in her stance was back. She had wrapped her arms around her, as if she had gone cold.
“Why are you here with me, Sabrina?”
She didn’t expect the question. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile that looked flat. She dropped her arms to her side. “I told you already.” She took a deep breath that inadvertently jutted her luscious breasts into prominent display. It was probably made to look unconscious, but Luca suspected it was calculated. It was very effective. He went hard. “Humor me.”
“I’m attracted to you. And I want you.” Her quietly spoken words made him harder. Her eyes shifted away from him and stared in the direction of the walls. Her cheeks were flushed.
How could she say something so direct and yet be so timid at the same time? Which was the truth and which was an act? She wanted him but seemed conflicted about it. Was Markos still on her mind? What if he was the rebound fuck like what she said back in the restaurant? And why the hell should it matter? They were engaging in a fling, not a long-term relationship.
Like a cork that kept bobbing up and refused to stay under water, the truth popped out of the surface, defiantly buoyant. Sabrina had to want him as much as he wanted her. He wouldn’t go through with it any other way. If she was only after attending the royal wedding, then Luca would have to let her go, even if it was the last thing he wanted. But surely he couldn’t be mistaken about their mutual physical attraction, could he?
He hated this sudden attack of insecurity, resented her for making him feel it, so he said:
“Prove it.”
Prove it? Sabrina thought with a bit of hysteria, trying to tamp down her panic. She had to prove she wanted him? Wasn’t it enough that she came to the suite with him? Why wasn’t he jumping her like any normal male would? Did he expect an elaborate seduction scene? Maybe she could excuse herself first, go to the bathroom, and ask Chase for advice, she thought wildly.