‘And I think that’s my cue to leave,’ he said harshly.
‘No!’ The word came out in a rush. ‘Please, Dante. I don’t want you to go.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m out of here.’
‘Dante...’
‘No. Listen to me, Willow.’ There was a pause while he seemed to be composing himself, and when he started speaking, his words sounded very controlled. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re lovely. Very lovely. A beautiful butterfly of a woman. But I’m not going to have sex with you.’
She swallowed. ‘Because you don’t want me?’
His voice grew rough. ‘You know damned well I want you.’
She lifted her eyes to his. ‘Then why?’
He seemed to hesitate and Willow got the distinct feeling that he was going to say something dismissive, or tell her that he didn’t owe her any kind of explanation. But to her surprise, he didn’t. His expression took on that almost gentle look again and she found herself wanting to hurl something at him...preferably herself. To tell him not to wrap her up in cotton wool the way everyone else did. To treat her like she was made of flesh and blood instead of something fragile and breakable. To make her feel like that passionate woman he’d brought to life in his arms.
‘Because I’m the kind of man who brings women pain, and you’ve probably had enough of that in your life. Don’t make yourself the willing recipient of any more.’ He met the question in her eyes. ‘I’m incapable of giving women what they want and I’m not talking about sex. I don’t do emotion, or love, or commitment, because I don’t really know how those things work. When people tell me that I’m cold and unfeeling, I don’t get offended—because I know it’s true. There’s nothing deep about me, Willow—and there never will be.’
Willow drew in a breath. It was now or never. It was a huge risk—but so what? What did she have to lose when the alternative of not having him suddenly seemed unbearable? ‘But that’s all I want from you,’ she whispered. ‘Sex.’
His face hardened as he shook his head.
‘And I certainly don’t have sex with virgins,’ he finished flatly.
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘But...how on earth could you tell I was a virgin?’ she whispered, her voice quivering with disappointment, before realising from his brief, hard smile that she had just walked into some sort of trap.
‘Call it an informed guess,’ he said drily. ‘And it’s the reason why I have to leave.’
The hurt and the rejection Willow was feeling was now replaced by a far more real concern as she realised he meant it. He was going to leave her there, aching and alone and having to face everyone in the morning.
Reaching down to the bed, she grabbed at the duvet which was lying on the bed and wrapped it around herself, so that it covered her in an unflattering white cloud. And then she looked into the icy glitter of his eyes, willing him not to walk away. ‘If you go now, it will just cause a big scene. It will make people gossip and stir up all kinds of questions. And I don’t think I can face them. Or rather, I don’t want to face them. Please don’t make me. Don’t go,’ she said urgently. ‘At least, not tonight. Let’s pretend that you’re my lover, even if it’s not true. Let me show my sisters and my family that I’m a grown-up woman who doesn’t need their protection any more. I want to break free from their well-meaning intervention, and you’re the person who can help me. So help me, Dante.
Don’t make me face them alone in the morning.’
Dante heard the raw appeal in her voice and realised how difficult that must have been for her to say. She seemed so vulnerable that part of him wanted to go over there and comfort her. To cradle her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. But he couldn’t do that with any degree of certainty, could he? He didn’t even trust himself to touch her without going back on his word and it was vital he kept to his self-imposed promise.
‘This is a crazy situation,’ he growled. ‘Which is going to get even crazier if I stay. I’m sorry, Willow—but I can’t do it.’
In the distance, the music suddenly came to a halt and the sound of clapping drifted in through the open windows.
‘But I still have your bag,’ she said quietly. ‘And I thought you badly wanted it back.’
There was a pause.
‘Are you...threatening me?’ he questioned.
She shrugged. ‘I thought we had a deal.’
He met her grey gaze and an unwilling feeling of admiration flooded through him as he realised that she meant it. And even though she wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on if he had decided to offer real resistance, he knew he couldn’t do it. Because there were only so many setbacks a person could take—and she’d had more than her fair share of them.
‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘The deal still stands, though the terms have changed. And this is what we’re going to do. You are going to get ready for bed in the bathroom and you’re going to wear something—anything—I don’t care what it is as long as it covers you up. You are then going to get into bed and I don’t want to hear another word from you until morning, when we will leave for London before anyone else is awake, because I have no intention of facing your family first thing and having to continue with this ridiculous farce.’
‘But...where will you sleep?’
With a faint feeling of disbelief that he should be consigning himself to a celibate night, he pointed to a faded velvet chaise longue on the opposite side of the room. ‘Over there,’ he said.
‘Dante...’