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A Shocking Proposal In Sicily
Rachael Thomas
Her outrageous marriage plan… Kaliana urgently needs a husband! It’s the only way to save her family from financial ruin. So she shockingly proposes to billionaire Rafe Casella. They may have spent one red-hot night in his bed, but Kaliana’s rules are clear: their arrangement is pure convenience, nothing more. Since her fiancé’s death, she’s fiercely guarded her heart… Yet Rafe has his own agenda—a marriage could secure his rightful inheritance, but only if it appears to be real! Can they keep things strictly business when their pretend relationship starts to feel anything but…?


Her outrageous marriage plan...
Kaliana urgently needs a husband! It’s the only way to save her family from financial ruin. So she shockingly proposes to billionaire Rafe Casella. They may have spent one red-hot night in his bed, but Kaliana’s rules are clear. Their arrangement is pure convenience, nothing more. Since her fiancé’s death, she’s fiercely guarded her heart...
Yet Rafe has his own agenda—a marriage could secure his rightful inheritance, but only if it appears to be real! Can they keep things strictly business when their pretend relationship starts to feel anything but?
RACHAEL THOMAS has always loved reading romance, and is thrilled to be a Mills & Boon author. She lives and works on a farm in Wales—a far cry from the glamour of a Modern Romance story, but that makes slipping into her characters’ worlds all the more appealing. When she’s not writing, or working on the farm, she enjoys photography and visiting historical castles and grand houses. Visit her at rachaelthomas.co.uk (http://www.rachaelthomas.co.uk).
Also by Rachael Thomas (#ufca395e5-9edd-59b3-8c7c-4074cc7408b6)
From One Night to Wife
New Year at the Boss’s Bidding
To Blackmail a Di Sione
The Sheikh’s Last Mistress
Married for the Italian’s Heir
A Child Claimed by Gold
Di Marcello’s Secret Son
Hired to Wear the Sheikh’s Ring
A Ring to Claim His Legacy
Seducing His Convenient Innocent
Convenient Christmas Brides miniseries
Valdez’s Bartered Bride
Martinez’s Pregnant Wife
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
A Shocking Proposal in Sicily
Rachael Thomas


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09789-5
A SHOCKING PROPOSAL IN SICILY
© 2019 Rachael Thomas
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Note to Readers (#ufca395e5-9edd-59b3-8c7c-4074cc7408b6)
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For the fantastic group of adventurers I trekked
across the Sahara Desert with in November 2018, raising funds for many charities.
Especially ‘The Desert Girls’—Sohere,
Hanna, Rowena, Danni and Pippa—with whom
I shared the most basic tent. The whole week
was an awesome and unforgettable adventure!
Contents
Cover (#u600506fe-f818-5532-a276-ce06dba9bd39)
Back Cover Text (#ucfde4ca3-aee0-581f-bbb8-807dab5411d3)
About the Author (#u34ba74d6-f697-5a11-abce-3a48e2127da5)
Booklist (#u6599bc4a-266e-5146-b555-41098180f064)
Title Page (#u078dec91-9dd5-503e-aa6a-a258eb6f4727)
Copyright (#u7db7ecef-ed2a-534e-bd60-e4bbebe9340e)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u6844f244-ce28-57e3-97f5-4200695ac220)
PROLOGUE (#ud8d45961-be50-5df3-bc3c-b8e5d1041846)
CHAPTER ONE (#u03948d99-9a18-527c-a574-73446557b0ae)
CHAPTER TWO (#u8fe3b7ac-d3c6-58d2-bd4d-e5e1893c9559)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE (#ufca395e5-9edd-59b3-8c7c-4074cc7408b6)
SHE’D HAD HER FREEDOM. Freedom which now needed to be paid for. The last five years of resisting the urge to fulfil the archaic traditions of her country counted for nothing. Her duty to Ardu Safra could no longer be ignored. Or avoided.
Kaliana Benhamed stood outside her father’s office. She knew exactly why he’d demanded she return from London. From the new life she’d carved for herself after the tragedy of five years ago. Why he’d insisted she leave a job she loved, as campaign manager for Charity Resources. It didn’t concern him she’d have to say goodbye to Claire, a friend who knew everything about her but still treated her like an everyday girl. With that one command, her father had all but brought her world crashing down around her, leaving her no option but to return to her homeland and face him. Face her duty.
Kaliana stood taller, taking a deep breath, desperate to quell the churning of her stomach, her heart pounding hard and fast at the thought of the discussion to come. She swallowed down the nerves she couldn’t allow her father to see. She was a different woman from the one who’d left Ardu Safra after the nightmare of losing the man she’d loved. Since then, she’d found her independence and happiness. She’d pushed aside her dreams of love and happy ever afters. Made a new life for herself. A life she wasn’t about to relinquish easily.
Not even to her father, ruler of Ardu Safra, a small desert kingdom on the north-eastern edge of the African continent. He’d been a strict father, but fair. Would he really force her to do the one thing she didn’t want to do? Would he force her to accept a man he’d selected, as her husband? After everything she’d endured?
She closed her eyes briefly, sending up one last prayer for the strength to do this, wishing her mother had a more modern outlook on life. Wishing she would stand up for her only child. But those wishes were futile. Her mother was kind and loving, but of a very different era.
Kaliana tried to shake the tension from her shoulders as she gave the command to the guards, always stationed around the palace, to admit her to her father’s office.
The big doors swung wide and she walked across the vastness of the marble floor to the ornate desk at the far end of the room. Her father looked up from his work, watching her intently. Did he notice how different she was? How strong? How ready she was to do battle with him? To fight for her right to be a modern woman in a modern world?
She knew she had to marry and when that happened she wanted to drag the kingdom of Ardu Safra into the twenty-first century. For the people of the small kingdom as much as for herself. But she wasn’t ready yet.
‘Kaliana.’ His voice was cool. Distant. As if he was addressing one of his aides, not his daughter. His only child. And that was the core of her problem. She was the only heir of Ardu Safra. ‘At last you return to your country.’
The reproach in his voice bounced round the vastness of the ornate office, mirroring itself in his dark, watchful eyes. Warning her he wasn’t in the mood for her wilfulness, as he often called it.
‘You didn’t leave me much choice.’ Kaliana stopped a short distance from her father’s desk, satisfaction racing through her as he took in, with annoyance, her shorter hair. She loved the long bob style she’d opted for as part of the new Kaliana. Already she could feel her hackles rise, her indignation at the injustice surging to the fore. She battled to keep it contained. Keep it from her father. ‘You made it clear that my coming was not a request, Father, but a demand.’
The shock of receiving the curt email directly from her father still hadn’t subsided. Neither had the knowledge that the life she’d built herself was in serious danger. She was expected to marry and, at twenty-five, she was acutely aware he considered that duty well overdue.
She’d stepped outside the life of Kaliana Benhamed, Princess of Ardu Safra, for five years and now it was time to go back to the life her title demanded. It was time to do the duty she’d hoped she’d never have to do. Live the life she’d tried to be free of.
‘What are you wearing?’ His gaze took in her fitted navy skirt and white blouse, teamed with heeled shoes. Her chosen clothes for her new work life. He wouldn’t approve of them, just as her traditionally brought-up mother didn’t. Kaliana was a big disappointment to her parents in many ways.
‘This is who I am now, Father.’ She lifted her chin defiantly as he stared at her, his annoyance that she’d turned her back so blatantly on her country vividly clear on his face. Once again it was clear she was a total disappointment to him. The daughter who’d brought shame to him. To the country. ‘Whatever it is you want of me, this is who I am now.’
He stood up quickly, his heavy chair scraping noisily on the marble floor. Anger burned in his eyes as he leant on the desk. ‘What I want is for you to do your duty.’
Kaliana wanted to step back from his fury. ‘My duty, Father?’ she asked, in a voice so light it didn’t even sound like her own. But to show her fear to him, her fear of what he now expected her to do, would be to hand him the ace card. Give him all the power.
And it was a power she’d slowly and bit by bit taken from him over the last five years as her new life had proved she could succeed without the title of Princess Kaliana of Ardu Safra. She’d got herself a managerial job, a place to live and friends she could count on without disclosing her royal title. Only Claire knew the truth. To her employer, her colleagues and friends, she was simply Kaliana Benhamed. And the fact she’d achieved all that irritated her father far more than he let on.
‘Marriage.’ He hurled the word she least wanted to hear at her. ‘Marriage is your duty, Kaliana. Your duty as Princess to the kingdom of Ardu Safra. Your duty as my daughter and only heir.’
She clenched her hands tightly, her nails digging into the sweaty palms. ‘Not in the life I now lead, Father.’
‘The life you now lead?’ Her father’s voice lowered with disappointment, the scowl on his face full of annoyance and frustration. She was only making this worse. Making it harder for herself. Making him angrier. ‘I’ve allowed you to indulge in that fancy long enough.’
She stepped forward, her own frustration making her reckless. ‘It’s not a fancy, Father, it’s my life now. One I needed to make for myself.’
He sighed slowly and looked at her, his expression softening very slightly, making her think of the father he’d been when she was younger. The father who’d loved her even though she hadn’t been born a son. The father who had been more relaxed—until the burden of inheriting and ruling a financially struggling and small kingdom had snatched that man away. ‘I understand why you needed to go. That’s why I said nothing when you turned your back on the lifestyle your title could have brought you.’
‘Then you will understand why I can’t marry. Not ever.’
‘It’s not that simple, Kaliana. Our kingdom is in jeopardy. Our people too. The only way out of it is for you to marry.’ The resignation in his voice shocked her. The angry ruler of moments ago had gone. The man she’d loved as a carefree child had returned. It was that man who tugged on her conscience.
‘And who will I marry, Father? Alif, the man I loved, the man you were perfectly happy for me to marry, died—remember?’ A stab of pain shot through her as she recalled being told her fiancé had been killed in a tragic helicopter crash just weeks before their wedding.
‘Nassif has asked for your hand in marriage.’ Her father’s words cut savagely through that memory.
‘Nassif?’ Kaliana couldn’t believe she was hearing right. How could he do this to her? How could her father even think she would marry anyone? But Nassif?
‘Alif’s uncle? Alif’s cruel and spiteful uncle? You can’t mean that?’ Her voice was a strangled cry of pain and despair. Her throat had gone dry, as if she’d walked all day in the heat of the desert and not taken one sip of water. Her head spun and she dragged in rapid deep breaths, desperate to regain control of herself and this conversation. ‘I can’t. I. Can’t.’
‘Marriage to Nassif will unite our countries, just as they should have been five years ago, if you’d married Alif.’ Her father sat once again behind his desk, the formidable ruler he’d become slipping back into place. The glimpse of the father she’d known long ago, gone. Or was it just her wishful thinking? She’d foolishly been hoping her father would be pleased to see her after five years. How wrong could she be?
Kaliana’s knees weakened and she wished she could slump to the floor as past hurt, past pain and heartache collided with the panic of what her father had planned. What he expected her to do without question. ‘But Nassif is so much older than me.’
‘That is true,’ he said slowly, his response to her objection so obviously rehearsed. ‘Now that his wife has passed away, he wants to make you his wife.’
Kaliana backed away, needing the roar of panic in her head to stop, needing the wild spinning of her mind to cease. ‘No. I will not marry him.’
Sweat prickled on her forehead. Nausea rose and the need to turn and run became almost irresistible. But she couldn’t run. Somewhere deep inside her, the duty her mother had implanted so innocuously into her from a young age resurfaced. Took over.
She wanted to run. But she couldn’t. She had a duty to do. Duty to her family. Her kingdom.
Deep down, she’d always known her father had allowed her time away, allowed her time to heal the pain of her broken heart. But now that reprieve was over. It was time for her to do the right thing. Do the duty she’d been born to.
But marriage to Nassif? She shivered with sickening revulsion. Marriage to anyone would be bad enough, but to her late fiancé’s vile uncle? Unthinkable.
Her father watched her without saying anything. He didn’t even flinch when, with a great shuddering breath that could lead to tears if she let it, she looked at him. Imploring him to understand. Imploring him to tell her he’d find someone else.
Someone else. The words wandered around her mind like mist on an autumn morning in London, shrouding all other thoughts. What if she did marry someone else?
Spurred on by the idea, the desperate thought that this was the solution, she moved back towards him. ‘I can’t marry Nassif, Father.’
‘Ardu Safra is facing financial ruin. Whilst you have been in London things have become very bad here.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It is for me to deal with. I was counting on your marriage to Alif to make things right.’ The sharpness of his words only just hid his panic, the seriousness of the situation.
‘There were problems even then?’ she asked, saddened to think she’d been happy and free in London, while her mother and father had carried this burden.
‘Yes. And now I must ask that you make a marriage with Nassif.’ His voice had hardened. Was that to hide his shame that things had got so bad in the country he ruled? Guilt raced through her, forming a potent cocktail, mixing with her fear. A cocktail that made her almost physically sick.
‘Father, no. Not Nassif.’
‘He is a very wealthy man.’ Her father looked at her, no longer the strong ruler but a man who looked broken and defeated. A man who was depending on her. Her heart wrenched. ‘And he is willing to invest in Ardu Safra.’
She shook her head in protest, but the straight line of her father’s mouth warned her it was in vain.
‘Your marriage will bring the finances you should have brought with your marriage five years ago.’ She knew that gritty determination in his voice. He would get what he wanted. One way or another. And he wanted to save Ardu Safra by marrying her off to a wealthy man.
But did that man have to be Nassif?
A solution barged into her mind, making any further words almost impossible. Her heart thudded loudly. Dare she risk telling him? Risk his anger? And, worst of all, his disapproval of her. ‘No. I can’t do it.’
‘Imagine the shame your mother will face.’ He believed he held the ace cards, but she wouldn’t allow him to emotionally blackmail her. He wouldn’t use the close relationship she and her mother had always shared. He wouldn’t do that to her any more.
‘This isn’t about Mother,’ she said flatly, glaring at him, that wilful streak of hers beginning to take over as the solution to her problem grew in possibility. Like the sun as it rose over the mountains of the desert. Becoming bigger and stronger with each passing minute.
‘And the people of Ardu Safra? Will you stand by and allow them to wallow in poverty and hunger because you won’t do your duty? Because you won’t make a marriage to bring wealth back to our kingdom?’
Damn it, he did hold the ace cards. All of them. And he played them well. Too well.
‘Don’t, Father,’ she snapped.
‘How will your charities view you when they know who you really are? That you turned your back on the country of your birth? Its people?’ He stood once more, realising she was retreating, on the verge of accepting defeat. His threat to reveal her true identity, even though he’d helped her keep it secret, all he needed to use.
‘That’s not fair.’ How had she thought he was a fair man?
‘You will have to marry someone, Kaliana. A man with great wealth. A man able to rule by your side when the time comes.’ He paused, letting the image of her future permeate her mind. ‘This is your country. Your people.’
Marry someone. That was what he’d said. Again, the other less hideous option rushed into her mind. That was it. She would find her own husband.
‘Then I will find someone else.’ The words tumbled out in a panic and she knew she was in danger of losing the control she was fighting to keep on her emotions. ‘I will find a man to marry who can bring the finances needed to Ardu Safra.’
Her father looked at her, scowling, but before he could shut down her idea she spoke again. ‘I cannot and will not marry Nassif.’
She expected him to be angry. Braced herself for his wrath, but it didn’t come. He looked as stunned as she felt.
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You really think you can find a man, one wealthier than Nassif, willing to marry you and take on the demands of being husband to a princess?’
‘Yes, Father, I do.’ Now her panic changed direction. How could she ever achieve that?
‘Very well, I will prepare for a wedding.’
‘What?’
‘On the day of your twenty-sixth birthday you will be married.’
‘But that’s...’ She paused to calculate, her mind too numb to function. ‘October. The beginning of October. Only four months away.’
He nodded solemnly. She wanted to rail against him, but he’d changed. There was something different about him. Something that tugged mercilessly at her heartstrings. Something that once again hinted that the father she’d loved as a child, the man she wished he could be, lingered beneath his tough exterior.
But she wasn’t about to let go of the chance he’d given her. ‘And if I haven’t found a husband by then?’ Inside she was a wild rush of panic. She could do this. She had to do this.
‘You have until September,’ her father solemnly said. ‘Find a suitable husband by then or marry Nassif on your twenty-sixth birthday.’

CHAPTER ONE (#ufca395e5-9edd-59b3-8c7c-4074cc7408b6)
Early June
RAFFAELE CASELLA COULD hardly control his frustration. Even as he’d flown back from Sicily to London, he hadn’t been able to halt the flow of anger. The irritation. His father, alarmingly calm after his cancer diagnosis, had hammered home the stark reality of the situation the family was now in.
The Casella name could end. And with it the possession of land and wealth which had been handed from one Casella generation to the next. With appalling timing, his twin brother, Enzo, had chosen that very day to admit his marriage to Emma was in jeopardy, after a fertility test had proved he was unable to father children—Casella heirs. His father had panicked, turning immediately to Rafe, putting the duty of providing the next generation squarely on his shoulders. Now he was the only one who could ensure the Casella land and wealth stayed exactly that.
Rafe had fought to control his anger, his shock, throughout the discussion with his father and Enzo. Reminding himself the old man was ill, holding it all in, thinking instead of the father he’d spent his life trying to please, but failing at every turn. Enzo, the first-born twin, was the son who had always achieved that honour, even when he’d betrayed Rafe in the most heartless way, tearing apart a family already living under the cloud of tragedy.
The Casella name would end if he, the second-born twin, the spare heir, didn’t marry and have children. The biggest crisis the Casella family had faced for three generations now loomed over them.
Rafe was in the spotlight, its brightness harsh and unyielding. Inescapable. He was the only one who could save the Casella name, and with it the family fortune. Pressure bore down on him. His future was mapped out, demanding he take a route that involved a marriage he’d never intended to make. Children—or, more precisely, a son to continue the Casella name—something he’d never wanted.
He had no choice. Either that or stand by and watch their cousin Serafina and her greedy husband, Giovanni Romano, take everything, ending the Casella dynasty.
Rafe couldn’t allow that. Not when part of that dynasty was the one piece of land which meant more to him than anything else. His mother’s land. The place he and Enzo, along with childhood friend Franco, had once played happily. It was a place full of memories of his mother. Memories he’d treasured since her death when he and Enzo had been only teenagers. For those olive groves alone, Rafe would do anything. Even marry. Even become a father. It was far more than ensuring nobody else, other than a Casella, owned Pietra Bianca. For Rafe it was about keeping his mother’s memory alive.
The thought of Giovanni at the ancient olive grove slammed into Rafe as he ordered a second whisky. A surge of anger raced through him, almost blocking out the subtle tones of the gentle piano music weaving through the bar of the exclusive London hotel.
There was no way Giovanni Romano was having anything to do with Pietra Bianca.
Rafe swigged the fiery liquid back and banged the empty glass down on the bar. During the last heated words he and his brother had shared, Enzo had made it clear that, despite everything that had gone on between them, he expected Rafe to step up. Expected him to save the Casella fortune. Proving his twin was as mercenary, as motivated by wealth, as their father.
‘Damn you, Father,’ Rafe muttered as he glared at the offensively empty glass. ‘And damn you, Enzo.’
Rafe pushed his hands through his hair as he thought of Serafina and Giovanni claiming the Casella fortune. No. That could never happen. Irritation tipped over to anger and Rafe called over the bartender, watching him with narrowed eyes, his thoughts elsewhere, as another glass of whisky was poured.
Picking up the glass, Rafe raised it to his reflection in the mirrors behind the bar. To his future. Marriage. Fatherhood. The things he’d never wanted, now his only option.
Rafe looked down into the amber liquid in the crystal tumbler, still questioning the wisdom of marriage. The ice-cold shock which had hit him as his father had made his expectations clear was still frozen inside him, the whisky unable to thaw it.
His father had always considered Enzo the true heir, expecting his first-born son to marry, produce the new generation and claim it all. Rafe was, as always, merely the back-up plan. An extra card in his hand.
A card he was now forced to play after Enzo’s marriage was crashing on the rocks so spectacularly. Divorce seemed the only option. Poor Emma. Rafe tried to push the sympathy away. She might have been his first love, but she was now Enzo’s wife. Enzo and Emma’s betrayal had gone far deeper than just killing his love for her.
Rafe swirled the whisky in the glass, brooding into it as if it held the answers to the nightmare he now lived. He had no wish for marriage. No need for emotional complications. How was he to find himself a wife? And one that would bring the kind of prestigious advantages to the marriage he required and the son the Casella family required? Did he really have such little choice that he had to accept a marriage deal arranged by his father?
Anger chased the whisky through his body. Was he to parade himself like a stud horse? That stung his male pride as much as being the standby heir.
‘Champagne.’ The husky voice of the woman joining him at the bar caught his attention, dragging him from his despair, her accent intriguing him as she made her demand to the bartender. Despite the weight of his problems, he was captivated in a way he hadn’t been for a long time.
Rafe studied her in the mirrors behind the bar and, despite the rows of optics, saw the woman was as attractive as her voice. There was an air of sophistication about her. She radiated confidence, drew him ever closer. Making him want more than a curious glance in the mirror. Making him want to get to know her. Effectively sealing his fate.
Attraction surged through him and he reluctantly admitted he’d go as far as to say she was the sexiest woman he’d seen in a long time. She was tall and slender, wearing a tight-fitting pale gold silk blouse, sleeves folded up past her elbows and open low at the front. Her dark shoulder-length hair was pulled back away from her face, accentuating her vivid brown eyes, her brown eye make-up making them appear as black as coal. Her full lips were pressed together into a sulky but sexy pout.
She was utterly gorgeous.
Watching her shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did. A lick of hot lust, reminding him just how long it had been since he’d lost himself in the oblivion of a beautiful woman, fired through him. It would also be something he’d never be able to do again once he married. His marriage might not be for love, or any kind of sentiment, but his morals wouldn’t allow for such betrayal as infidelity.
He knew how that felt. All too well.
Rafe nodded to the bartender, who swiftly brought over two glasses and a bottle of champagne, placing them on the bar between him and the woman. With a quick glance at the label, Rafe satisfied himself his usual standards had been catered for with nothing but the best and moved closer to the sexy woman.
‘I don’t recall inviting you to join me.’ She turned, leaning one slender arm on the bar, cutting off any polite introductions he could have made as she glared up at him. That lick of lust just became a savage kick.
He conjured up an image of the kind of woman his father might suggest as a suitable wife and knew she’d never be a match to this sassy, sophisticated woman before him. He took in the brunette’s long bronzed legs, the tight-fitting skirt skimming above her knees and the sexy gold sandals on delicate feet with red painted nails.
This woman oozed confidence. She was strong. Independent. And, with a body like that, she would fill his nights with hot pleasure. There was no way a woman like her would agree to a marriage purely for convenience.
This was a woman who undoubtedly played as hard as she worked. Exactly the kind of woman he was drawn to. He knew instinctively this woman would match him in every way.
‘I think you will find it is you who is being invited to join me,’ he taunted. Sparks of sexy annoyance shot out at him from her eyes, sending that savage lust roaring straight to his groin. He clenched his jaw against the kind of need he hadn’t felt for a long time. The kind of need that right now would chase away the shock of all he’d discovered. All he must do.
‘And how do you come to that conclusion? You were very clearly drinking whisky when I arrived,’ she goaded him, leaning her head to one side, her diamond earrings sparkling and winking at him.
He smiled. She’d noticed. Noticed him. ‘That is true.’
‘I was the one who ordered champagne.’ Her accent deepened. He’d never met a woman like this. For the last six years he’d consciously avoided complicating his life with female company. He’d used the alternative energy business he’d worked hard to set up, instead of joining his father and Enzo in the family business, to keep him from his homeland. Sicily held too many bad memories. The kind that wrote over any good times. Here in London, or at his other base in New York, he didn’t have to remember.
He didn’t have to face the past. It didn’t have to shape who he was.
Then all that had changed with his father’s illness. He’d been forced to return to Sicily. Forced back into his brother’s life. The twin who’d destroyed Rafe’s planned future as though it was nothing more than paper. The only two women he’d got close to had been lost. His mother and then Emma. Damn it, he’d lost Emma to his own brother. And now the final insult was that Rafe had no choice but to step up to the mark and do his duty, to help his father and his brother keep the Casella fortune.
Rafe pushed his troubles aside. This wasn’t the time for them. Not when this woman was exactly what he needed right now. A distraction he wanted to lose himself in—completely.
‘You didn’t order champagne. You demanded it.’ The stunned look on her face at being reprimanded made him smile. This was going to be a very entertaining evening. Precisely what he needed.
Tonight, he wanted to lose himself. Completely and with this woman. From the way she was looking at him, eyes swirling with desire as much as annoyance, he knew it was only a matter of time until he did just that. A sizzling sexual attraction drew them inexplicably to one another and he had no intention of severing it. Instead, he would meet it head-on.
‘I did no such thing.’
‘I didn’t hear a please,’ he taunted her, watching the gold flecks in her dark brown eyes shine brighter with fury. ‘And I am yet to hear a thank you.’
Beneath her dark complexion he noticed she had the good grace to blush. She sighed, her breasts rising with the deep breath in, snagging his attention, ratcheting up his lust, tightening the binds of attraction.
Silence fell between them as the bartender poured two glasses of champagne, placing the bottle back in the cooler, before attending to other guests. She took hers and, still without a word of thanks, turned her attention away from him.
‘Sorry. It’s been a bad day,’ she said quickly. ‘A bad week. Two weeks, in fact.’
He watched her once more in the mirror as she sipped her drink, before putting the glass on the bar and tracing one long slender finger around the rim absently. Her thoughts far away from him. From this bar.
‘That’s both of us then.’
Her gaze met his in the mirror. They remained like that, gazes locked, drawing them together, keeping them linked. It was powerful. Hard to resist. But he had no intention of doing that. This beauty who’d exploded into his world was exactly the antidote he needed after this morning’s meeting with his father.
‘It might have just got a little better.’ She tilted her head on one side, still watching him in the mirror. Again, the sparkle of diamonds hanging from her ears caught his attention as she openly flirted with him. Teased him.
Champagne. Diamonds. Who was this enigma of a woman who’d gate-crashed his private moment?
‘Shall we agree to dismiss today? To live for now? This moment and nothing else?’ He spoke to her reflection, not sure where his questions had come from.
He was the last person who would condone shirking duty for personal needs. But this woman’s demeanour, her confident sexiness and charm, sparkling brighter than her diamonds, must be affecting him more than he knew.
She picked up her glass, raising it up to his reflection in the mirrors, her gaze intently holding his. In that hypnotic way a woman could seduce a man with just one look, he knew he was lost.
Tonight, he was hers.


‘I will drink to that,’ Kaliana said as she tried once again not to notice how incredibly sexy she found this man. Her friend and flatmate, Claire, had told her she needed to let go of the past. Get out there and have fun. Be the woman she really wanted to be.
So she’d thrown caution to the wind and headed out to do just that, planning to meet up with her friends as soon as they all finished work. But she’d never expected this. Not just the man himself, but an undeniable need to be with a man she didn’t even know. And in a way she’d never experienced.
He was just the distraction she needed after today’s call from her father, reminding her that two weeks had passed since she’d agreed to find a man wealthy enough to save her kingdom. And save herself from a marriage to a brutal bully.
Maybe Claire was right. Maybe she needed to find herself before she could find a husband. Had fate brought her this man for that exact reason? She focused on the stranger. His white shirt was open at the neck and, if she was brave enough to look lower, more than hinted at his bronzed and well-defined chest, dusted with dark hair.
That same call of hungry need which had first zipped through her when she’d looked at his handsome face, into his intensely black eyes, unfurled once more. It wasn’t like her at all. She’d always avoided men like him. Dangerously sexy men. Men who could make her want the impossible. Men who could make her forget. Because she didn’t want to forget Alif and their innocent young love.
But tonight she needed this. She had no intention of avoiding anything or anyone. She wanted to take whatever the evening offered. When she’d seen the handsome stranger, glaring into his drink, she’d known with an unnerving certainty that he was what she wanted. What she needed.
Tonight, she wanted to be a different woman. She wanted a distraction. She needed the rebellion against the hand fate had dealt her. That need burned brighter than ever. Pushing her on. Making her want to taste what could have been.
You want him. A voice echoed in her mind, chanting and triumphant. The little miss prim and proper virgin she’d always been wanted this sex god of a man. And why shouldn’t she have some fun? Rebellion rippled through her again, stronger than ever. Nobody would ever know if she had a little bit of fun. Indulged in a bit of flirting. Not here in London. Not so far away from Ardu Safra. In London she was simply Kaliana. Nobody knew her here and she could hide from her weighty royal title.
Excitement zipped through her. Maybe it was time to taste even more than that. Maybe it was time to finally let go of the past, of who she’d been, and discover what physically being with a man was like. But not just any man. This man.
She looked up into the stranger’s face to see a slow sexy smile spread across his lips. Heat infused her cheeks. She knew he couldn’t possibly read her mind, but she wondered if he had. If he knew just how much she wanted him.
He picked up his glass and raised it to her. ‘A toast. To this moment.’
Her tongue slicked over suddenly parched lips, her breath seeming harder to come by. Less natural. Her heart thumped. Her body heated. She liked the way he made her feel. Liked the sensation of freedom and power this surge of sexual chemistry between them gave her. Freedom she might never know again if she did her duty by her family and made a marriage to financially save the kingdom of Ardu Safra.
The thought of the man she’d be forced to marry if she didn’t make a deal with a man of her choice almost squashed her bravado. No, she inwardly berated herself. She wouldn’t think of Nassif now or of how her life would be if they married. All she wanted to think about was this moment. This man.
‘To the moment,’ she said boldly, hoping she didn’t sound as gauche and inexperienced as she really was.
She’d never chatted up a man like this before. Never given out such a clear message of wanting far more than idle chat to any man other than the man she’d once been engaged to. Yet here she was. Alone. In a bar. With a sinfully sexy man. Not wanting the moment to end.
She sipped her champagne. All the while his inky black eyes watched her, his brow slightly furrowed. His stubble-covered jaw was stern and set. He looked powerful. Commanding. And sexy.
He called to her on a level she’d never known existed. Made her want the impossible. Made her want to be someone else—for tonight at least. Something no other man had made her feel since Alif’s death.
‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ he said, his gravelly voice sending spirals of heat through her, nudging at the need, the attraction he raised. Demanding the kind of satisfaction she knew instinctively only he could give her.
‘Just first names,’ she said quickly, watching his brows raise before a smile of conspiracy slid slowly over his lips. Sinfully sexy didn’t come anywhere near it.
‘As you wish.’ He lifted his glass of champagne to her, his eyes darkening with wild desire, making her head spin more than the champagne she wasn’t really used to. ‘Rafe.’
‘Ana,’ she said quickly, unable to quell the shimmer of excitement rushing through her.
The feeling was so powerful she drank the remainder of her champagne in one go, not missing his amusement, which set off sparks in his eyes as well as inside her. He pulled the bottle of champagne from the cooler, ice rattling as it was disturbed and, without a word, replenished her glass.
When he looked at her again his expression was speculative, but thankfully he didn’t say anything, didn’t ask further questions. Instead he replaced the bottle in the ice with the kind of familiarity that made her think he must be a waiter. Maybe he worked here? Maybe he’d just finished for the night?
‘Are you a waiter here?’ she asked as he took a sip of his champagne.
His eyes widened and for a moment she thought the champagne he’d sipped would be fired all over her. She’d clearly shocked him. Offended him even. She’d been so taken in by him she hadn’t paid that much attention to his clothes—just him. But now she looked more closely, she could see his shirt wasn’t just any shirt. It was quality, fitting him to perfection, and had probably been made for him.
‘No. I am a guest. As are you, I presume.’
‘I am,’ she said with renewed determination. She knew that whatever happened next—and the fact that something would was as certain as the full moon which would rise over London—she wanted this night.
She was a woman with needs. A woman with desires. A woman this man had set alight with one sexy smile.
She was more than entitled to this one night. She’d lost the love of her life and soon she would be forced into a marriage she didn’t want. This moment was hers. And she intended to take it. All of it.
‘Then I am honoured to be able to share this evening with you.’ He glanced at her, pouring himself another glass of champagne. She watched, mesmerised by his olive hands, long regal fingers, wrapping around the bottle so eloquently.
What would it feel like to have those hands touch her? To have those fingers bring pleasure to her body?
He looked directly at her, a mysterious intensity in his eyes as they slowly travelled down her body, lingering on her breasts, the soft silk of her pale gold blouse offering no protection against the heat of his eyes. His attention lowered, down over the skirt of the same silk, fitting snugly to her hips. Then finally, when Kaliana thought she couldn’t take it any more, his attention shifted to her high-heeled sandals and red painted toenails.
She shivered with pleasure. Anticipation.
He hadn’t touched her, but he’d just undressed her. Right here. In the bar of an exclusive hotel. She felt totally and gloriously naked even though the cool silk against her skin told her otherwise.
Did he know her thoughts? Did he know how he made her feel? Did he know what she wanted? Right now.
‘I think all night would be better.’ Emboldened by the heat of her body, she pushed aside embarrassment. Pushed aside the last remnants of her reservations and made her intentions, her needs, clear. Before she married to save her family from the shame of financial ruin, she wanted to know the pleasure of being desired by a man. The pleasure of desiring this man.
His brows flicked up in surprise but instantly he schooled his chiselled features, the cool charm of moments ago back in play. ‘You wish to spend the entire night in my company?’
No man had ever come close to making her feel the kind of desire Alif had made her feel. If only she hadn’t been so insistent on going to her marriage bed a virgin, she would have known what it was to desire and be desired before he’d been tragically taken from her. Regret rushed through her.
No other man had ever made her feel that way.
Until she’d seen this man. Within seconds of her eyes meeting his she’d known she wanted him. Known he was the only man who could cleanse her body of its innocence.
She wasn’t about to allow this moment, this feeling, this need, to slip away again. She wanted this night. Wanted this man. ‘I do.’ She held his gaze, challenging him to pull back, to call a halt to the dangerous game of passion she was on the brink of playing. ‘I want to be with you all night.’
Kaliana wanted to indulge in the game, dangerous or not. What better way to forget about the future and move on from the past than in this man’s arms?
His gaze narrowed. Was he thinking of a wife he’d left at home? Children even? ‘You are playing a dangerous game, Ana.’
The silky softness of his voice was like a caress. It soothed. It excited. If his voice could do that, what would his kiss be like?
Her gaze flew to his lips; instantly a slow and very sexy smile spread over them.
‘A game I want to play.’ She looked up at him from lowered lashes, flirting coming surprisingly naturally to her. ‘But if you don’t want to. Or can’t...’ She allowed the words to trail off, seductively moving closer to him in a way she’d never, ever imagined herself doing. But tonight she wasn’t herself. She looked boldly up at him. ‘I will go.’
Instantly he put one arm around her waist, slowly but very purposefully drawing her closer. All the while his eyes remained fixed on hers. She moved willingly towards him, her body alive with a sensation she’d never experienced before. The pressure of his hand, his arm holding her, burning her skin.
‘We will play the game your way.’ His eyes darkened as he drew her a fraction closer, the narrowing gap between their bodies alive with sparks. ‘For now.’
‘Good.’ She smiled up at him, feeling out of her depth and very much in control all at the same time. She moved closer still, inhaling the exotic scent of his cologne, the tang of citrus blending with cedarwood pushing her on, taking her higher. This was exactly the game she wanted to play.
Tonight, she wasn’t Princess Kaliana of Ardu Safra. Tonight, she was simply Ana and it felt right. Tonight, she wanted this man. He was exactly what she needed. What she wanted. And she wanted him all night.

CHAPTER TWO (#ufca395e5-9edd-59b3-8c7c-4074cc7408b6)
RAFE WATCHED ANA’S eyes darken. Desire thundered through him. Harder. Faster. Like the call of a war drum of old. He was losing the mask of the composed businessman who’d a short while ago been drinking whisky alone. Hell, he was losing himself. And he hadn’t even kissed her.
Yet.
With this woman’s body pressed so alluringly against his, he knew he was in danger of completely losing his grasp on reality. Losing everything. His whole body ached for her and the satisfaction he knew only she could give. He’d never been so hard. So ready.
She moved closer, her smoky eyes filling with need, exploding with desire. Shimmying her hips provocatively, pressing against his erection. And he thought he’d never been so hard.
He tightened his hold on her, keeping her delicious body against him. ‘See what you do to me?’ He barely recognised the coarse rasp of his voice.
She smiled. Moved her hips again, forcing him to bite down hard on the growl of desire threatening to rip from him.
‘I feel,’ she purred. Damn, but she was a merciless tease. ‘But I don’t see.’
He couldn’t hold back any longer. He had to taste her. Had to feel her lips beneath his. Feel the passion that burnt in her eyes, taste it on her tongue as it danced with his.
But if he gave into that need here?
It wasn’t worth imagining. Or was it? Erotic images swept through his mind, faster than lightning. Their bodies entwined in the erotic dance of desire.
Rafe inhaled deeply as she pressed her body even harder against his. Making those images so hot they became X-rated.
‘I think we should retire to my suite.’ His voice was hoarse and ragged with desire. He hadn’t known anything like it. Ever. It was like a wild fire bearing down on him at an alarming pace, offering no escape. Not that he wanted any escape.
There was a slight pause as she looked up at him. A hint of uncertainty and hesitation. The fire cooled briefly, stilled, as if waiting to see which way the wind would take it. As he watched her, she looked innocent. Vulnerable. Then it was gone. The sex siren, the seductress, was back in play and the fire raged on relentlessly.
‘And I was enjoying this moment.’ She raised her brows, looking up at him, bringing her lips tantalisingly close to his. ‘I was enjoying my power over you.’
‘If you carry on with this power game, I am going to have to kiss you. Right here. Right now.’ His voice was more of a feral growl, the like of which he’d never heard before. How could one woman, a woman he’d only just met, have such an effect on him?
‘Then kiss me. Right here and right now.’ Her bold and brazen reply excited him further. There would be no backing out now. This would be taken to the inevitable conclusion—in the privacy of his suite.
She moved closer still, her breath feathering his lips. ‘Kiss me.’
Hell, he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to taste her. She moved her lips closer, a spark of sexy mischief in her eyes. He placed his champagne glass on the bar, not taking his eyes from hers, and spread his palm over her shoulder blades, at the same time crushing her lips beneath his.
She gasped into his mouth, her eyes wide, and again that aura of innocence briefly shone through. A woman playing with fire. The fire of desire. Desire he could no longer control. She closed her eyes, long lashes sweeping down over her cheeks as she began to kiss him back. As hard and demanding as his kiss, sweeping away any doubts.
This woman was far from innocent. This was a woman in control of her sexuality. A woman who knew exactly what she wanted. And right now he was in no doubt. She wanted him.
Her tongue entwined with his and her arms wound round his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair, long nails scratching his scalp. He delved his tongue deeper into her mouth, tasting champagne. Tasting her.
He had to get them out of here. He was in danger of ripping her sexy tight blouse and skirt from her body right here in the bar.
He lifted his lips away from hers reluctantly, dragging in a deep breath of sanity.
‘Your suite,’ she whispered, opening her eyes and looking up at him. Already she looked deliciously tousled.
Lust pounded through him. He barely had any control left. Virtually no restraint. His need for this woman, this moment, was so intense. He wanted to revel in her power. Be tamed by her. It either stopped here and now or...
‘This is what you want?’ He tried to steady his voice, needing to calm the heated desire thundering through him like a sudden eruption from Mount Etna. Despite this desire, despite the way her body begged him for more than just a kiss, he needed to hear her say it.


Did he really have to ask?
‘It is,’ Kaliana said softly, her voice husky, her breathing rapid and uneven. He was giving her the chance to back out, proving he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Giving her the power. Power which made her feel alive.
She brushed her lips over his lightly, wanting to kiss away the control he’d suddenly found. She wanted him at her mercy. Her at his. She breathed against his lips, driven by a need too powerful to resist. ‘It is. Take me to your suite.’
He held her gaze, looking deep into her eyes, as if satisfying himself she spoke the truth and for a moment she wondered if he knew. If he’d guessed she was a virgin. As if he’d guessed her act of bold bravado was exactly that. Was this man of undeniable experience about to turn her down? Leaving her aching for him, for satisfaction? Leaving her not knowing what it would be like to be sexually fulfilled?
She wanted this night of pleasure, this night of unknown desires. She needed it. To prove she was alive. Locked within her was the woman Alif had gently coaxed into the first flush of womanhood with his love.
She held her breath.
Pain rushed through her at the thought of Alif and the love they’d shared. The passion they should have known together. Was it wrong she felt such desire with another man?
She looked up at Rafe, felt the pull of attraction, the spark of desire, the heat of passion. It wasn’t wrong. Something this powerful couldn’t be. Unexpected, but not wrong.
‘I want you,’ she whispered, drawing again on the elation of being free to indulge in this desire. Free to be a woman who knew what she wanted and took it.
And she wanted this night and this man. Nobody except Rafe could stop it now. Tonight, she would finally bloom into the woman she could be.
‘And I want you.’ His accent suddenly deepened, the intensity in those dark eyes mirroring every need and emotion inside her.
‘I want you to make love to me.’ Her breath was ragged, her words slipping out, firm and decisive. Elation at her freedom, her power of abandonment to be exactly what she wanted, rose ever higher. She wanted to feel his kisses all over her body. His strong hands caressing her, pleasuring her in ways she could only imagine. For too long she’d locked herself behind a barrier of grief, but she couldn’t do it any more. Not if she had to give up on everything she’d ever dared to hope for and sacrifice her secret dreams of one day finding the kind of love she’d shared with Alif. If love a second time even existed. ‘I want you to make love to me. Tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ The hoarseness of his voice left her in no doubt he was fighting a losing battle as much as she was.
‘Tonight,’ she teased. ‘All night.’
He inhaled deeply, his eyes piercing into hers. Taking her hand, he silently led her through the serene calmness of the hotel bar, some guests casting them curious but knowing glances.
Together they stepped into the lift. The air crackled with tension. Neither moved. Towards each other or away. The only contact was her hand in his. Silence enveloped them as the lift moved swiftly upwards. She didn’t dare look at him. Something wild was about to explode between them and if they even so much as looked at one another it would happen before they reached the privacy of his suite.
She drew in a deep breath, his scent stirring her desire ever higher, and she willed the lift to stop. Willed the doors to open. Beside her, he was rigid, his body motionless with control as he stared straight ahead. She didn’t need to look at him to know it. She sensed it. Sensed the power of his control.
At last the lift doors swished almost silently open, directly into his suite, so vast she was sure it must occupy the entire floor. So, he was immensely wealthy. Not the waiter she’d mistaken him to be.
She smiled at the memory of his reaction to her question as she walked into the suite, past the sprawling pale grey sofa, covered with cushions. Past the vast desk where papers and a closed laptop confirmed he was a businessman. Towards the wall of windows which looked out over London, now twinkling with many lights, competing with the moon.
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Here, tonight, she could be a different woman than the one who’d handed over her future to the family duty she’d always secretly hoped to be free of, wishing instead for love and happiness. Here, tonight, none of that mattered.
Awareness prickled over her skin as he came to stand behind her, his hands gently holding her upper arms, subtly caressing them, pulling her slowly closer to him.
She looked at the window, their reflection, just as erotic as it had been in the bar. She watched him lower his head to kiss her neck, anticipating his lips on her skin seconds before it happened. She closed her eyes to the pleasure, her pulse racing wildly.
She sighed softly as his lips trailed over her skin, burning it. Setting her alight. But it wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough.
Kaliana angled her head, inviting more, needing more. She leant her head back against him as he drew her closer. Rafe’s fingertips joined the torture his lips were inflicting on her skin. She shuddered with pleasure as the warmth of his fingers traced downwards, inside her blouse. Inside her bra.
She pressed her eyes tightly shut, desire wildly uncoiling deep inside her. Deep in the hidden femininity she’d locked away after losing Alif.
Rafe murmured against her neck, his fingers grazing over her increasingly hard nipples. It was exquisite. She trembled with need as he continued his torture, heated desire burning between her legs. She sighed softly as she turned her head to face him. He moved closer, the torture on her nipple continuing as he slicked his tongue over her lips. He moved slowly back and she licked her lips, tasting champagne and whisky along with something stronger. Desire.
He slid his hand away from her breast, trailing a blaze of heat up her neck. Every part of her was on high alert. Every part of her wanted him. Needed him.
She turned in his arms, clutched at his shirt and pulled, wanting to feel his body, needing to see it. Buttons popped to the floor as she dragged the shirt out from his black trousers, pushing it aside, pressing her lips to his bare chest. Tasting him. Inhaling his powerful masculinity.
She had no idea where the wanton woman she’d become had come from, but he tasted so good. His skin felt delicious on her tongue. He held the tops of her arms tightly as he spoke in another language and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was Italian. Then the carnal heat of desire took over, consuming her as it exploded into life.
‘See what you do to me.’ He spoke English with a harsh whisper. Had she imagined his words in Italian?
‘No,’ she said, spreading her palms on his chest. Pushing them through the silky soft hair that covered his well-defined chest muscles, smiling at the game she was playing once more with him. ‘No, I don’t see. Not at all.’
He laughed, a soft sexy laugh, unwinding the coil of desire inside her even more. ‘Maybe I should remove my clothes?’
She smiled, heat and power rampaging through her, making her bolder and braver than ever. There was no way she could stop now. ‘Maybe you should.’
‘In that case, my sweet, sexy nymph...’ He took his arms from around her, pulling off his shirt and stepping back a pace. He tossed the ruined shirt aside, his eyes never leaving hers, the hungry sparks of passion in them making her breathless. She looked at his chest, his shoulders, his strong arms, her attention lingering on a tattoo on his upper right arm.
The Italian words, Vivi con passione, inked on his skin fired through her, making this moment more intense. Live with passion—that was exactly what she intended to do. Tonight. With this man.
‘I still don’t see,’ she teased him further, determined not to be side-tracked by the bold dark words inked against his beautiful olive skin.
With a wicked smile he slowly, deliberately and very tantalisingly removed the remainder of his clothes. His body toned and perfect. His erection large and proud. ‘Now do you see?’
She should be shocked, embarrassed even. But she wasn’t. How could she be when this was precisely what she wanted? To see him in all his masculine glory. To revel in the power she had over his body—over him.
She didn’t answer his question but began to roughly pull at her blouse, desperate to take off every last barrier between them. To be as free as he was. Liberated from her lifelong prison as Princess of the ancient kingdom of Ardu Safra. Even if it was only for one night.
‘Allow me, cara.’ He moved back towards her, reaching out with steady hands to unfasten her blouse, button by button. Then he pushed the silk off her shoulders and it slithered to the floor as he unfastened the belt of her skirt before reaching behind her to the zip fastening. The action brought him close, so very close. She was painfully aware of his naked, aroused body, but he didn’t touch her—only her clothes.
He pulled the zip of the skirt lower until the pale gold fabric slithered down over her hips, watching her as she stepped out of it and towards him. His gaze raked down over her skimpy bra and panties, down her legs to her gold heels. She wanted to be as naked as him. Be his equal.
Without taking her eyes from him she slipped off first one sandal, kicking it aside. Then the other. The thud it made on the floor almost as loud as her pounding heart. Reaching behind her, she unclasped her bra, acutely aware of his eyes devouring her, waiting. She let the bra fall to the floor.
She lowered her hands to her panties, her gaze still fixed on his, unable to believe the wild desire she saw burning in them.
‘No,’ he said, his hand covering hers. He was so close she could feel the heat coming off him. Feel the need in his body for her.
‘No?’ she questioned.


‘No.’ Rafe looked into Ana’s eyes, the thud of desire so loud in his veins, surely the whole of London must hear it. ‘Not yet.’
She moved closer, reaching up, pressing her lips against his, her breasts brushing his chest. His control snapped and in one swift move he wrapped her in his embrace, claiming her lips in a hungry kiss. Her hungry need matching his. Demand for demand. Passion for passion. Their breathing hard and loud as desire threatened to totally consume them.
He needed to slow things down. Needed to take this night of unexpected pleasure more slowly. It would be the last he ever had because, even though his bride would be one brokered in a boardroom, he would remain faithful. He would never know a night like this again. Never know this carnal need for a woman after he was married.
He pushed those dark thoughts from his mind. They were for tomorrow. This almost naked, sexy vision of desire was tonight.
Her hand slid down his chest as she moved her body slightly away from his. Instinctively he tensed as her touch slid over his abs, then lower. Her palm pressed against him, then her fingers wrapped around him, exploring him.
The thought excited him more. Making him harder.
‘So beautiful,’ she whispered, looking down, as if she’d never seen a naked man before. She moved her hand upwards, then down and he bit back a groan of passionate despair. He had to stop her. Had to regain control. He wanted to pleasure her before she literally brought him to his knees at the altar of desire.
‘Now you have seen—and felt,’ he said, taking her hand in his. ‘It’s my turn.’
Her eyes widened a little and a faint blush spread over her cheeks, but desire pushed him on and, lowering his head, he took one hardened nipple in his mouth.
She gasped, her fingers delving into his hair as he slicked his tongue around her nipple, enjoying the shudder of pleasure which ran over her again and again. Then he stood up, pressing himself to her, feeling the heat of her body, her naked pert breasts against his chest. He kissed her—until she clung to him, her body begging his for release.
The loss of control threatened him again and he lowered his head, smiling as her fingers pushed into his hair, gently guiding him to where she wanted to be kissed next. He obliged, lavishing the same attention on her other breast.
‘Don’t stop,’ she gasped, and satisfaction rushed through him. The little spitfire who’d walked into the bar demanding champagne had been tamed by desire. But he wasn’t done with her yet. Nowhere near it. He wanted her to cry out with passion.
He murmured soft words of Italian as he kissed down her stomach, pressing his lips against the lacy cream panties, feeling her body arch towards him.
In one effortless move he pulled the lace down to her ankles, returning to the intimate dark hair. Holding her buttocks, he knelt before her, kissing into the silky soft hair. She placed her hands on his head, parting her legs slightly. He looked up at her and moved one hand to caress the soft skin inside her thigh, before trailing his finger intimately over her.
He stifled a groan of pleasure as he felt her eagerness, lust firing through him. Lust he had to ignore. He wanted to pleasure her, make this moment last.
‘I never knew,’ she gasped as he leaned forward and tasted her.
Never knew what? His question came and went, obliterated by a need to really taste her. To totally and completely possess her.
‘Oh,’ she cried out as waves of ecstasy racked her body, leaving her gasping, clinging to him as he continued his torment.
Instead of calming his need, giving him more control, hearing her cries of pleasure with such abandon only increased it. He wanted to be inside her. Deep inside her.


Kaliana shuddered as the intense pleasure of her first orgasm subsided. She’d been so lost in it, so swept away in delirium that only now was she aware he’d stood up, taken her hand and was drawing her towards the sofa.
He sat down, and she watched in fascination as he rolled on the condom he must have had in readiness for this moment.
The moment she gave herself to him.
Should she tell him she’d never had sex before? That he was the first man who had brought her to such a shuddering orgasm? Would he even know after what he’d just done to her?
He leant forward, taking her hand, drawing her closer. ‘Come here.’
Before she had time to wonder where she should go, how she should sit with him, he pulled her onto his lap, her legs astride his. She was completely out of her depth, but it was wild and reckless and right now exactly what she needed. What she wanted.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he said softly, his eyes swirling with desire as his hand slid between her legs, touching her where, after her orgasm, she felt sensitive, so in need of more. He leant forward, taking her nipple in his mouth while his fingers slid into her.
It was too much. Too nice. Surely, he couldn’t take her to that dizzy place of oblivion again? So soon?
She lifted herself up, his torturous touch stopping as his hands moved to grasp her buttocks, his mouth leaving her nipple as he looked up at her.
‘Cara mia.’ He spoke quietly, his tone firm and commanding, the Italian words so enticing, so sexy. Confidence filled her, pushing her on in her quest to find herself, to discover just who she really was.
She dragged in a shuddering breath as his expert touch took her higher. It was so much more than she’d ever anticipated. So powerful. So... Words failed her. She was close to the edge again. Close to being lost in pleasure. She closed her eyes, her head falling forwards, her hair cascading around her, shielding her from the scrutiny of those dark eyes as she enjoyed the moment.
‘Look at me, cara,’ he demanded, more firmly this time.
Fighting the waves of passion and lifting her head, she looked at him. His eyes were dark and glittering like diamonds. Had he guessed she was a virgin? Did the ease with which he could push her to another orgasm give away her inexperience? Her innocence?
‘I want to see you.’ His voice was husky and incredibly sexy. ‘I want to watch your face as you take me inside you.’
She drew in a breath at his boldness, shocked by how wild and wanton it made her. She wanted to feel him inside her. Deep inside her. It all seemed so right. How could she not want this man to possess her in the most intimate way?
Her gaze locked with his. She lifted her hips, lifted herself over him, hoping her boldness, her attempt to control, to dominate, would hide the nerves she couldn’t help but feel. No matter how much she wanted this.
His fingers bit into her buttocks as he encouraged her to move lower. The tip of his heated hardness forced instinct to take over and she moved slowly. With her arms around him, she moved her body up then lowered herself back to him, controlling the moment. Teasing him. Tormenting herself. Each movement making her bolder.

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