Taking a deep breath, she walked through to Sebastiano’s private sitting room. ‘Didn’t cost a thing, hey?’ she chided gently, trying to offset her nerves.
Sebastiano turned, his phone to his ear, and Poppy forgot to breathe. She had never seen a man wearing a tuxedo in real life before and she doubted she’d ever see one who looked this good ever again.
Good?
Try amazing. Sexy. Powerful. Edible. Once again a nagging longing rose up inside her that only seemed to stir to life when he was around. She swallowed heavily.
Mr Powerful, I’m-In-Control, Multi-Billionaire Castiglione, meet Miss Average, Not-So-In-Control, Poppy Connolly.
He gave her one of his slow grins. ‘It was worth every penny. You look ravishing.’
‘Oh!’ She swiped moist hands down over her middle, her brow arching as she fought to contain the thrill his compliment had given her. ‘You lied to me!’
‘Yes,’ he said, completely unapologetic. He advanced towards her and heat bloomed beneath the surface of her skin at the look of intent on his face. Surely he wasn’t going to...going to...?
‘Turn around.’
Turn around? Dumbly, she glanced down to see that he was holding the blue velvet box she had handed back to him on the plane. His lips twisted sardonically as she stood unmoving. Then he gave her a gesture to turn to face the mirror hanging over the mantle, and unbelievably she did, her hands going to the deep vee between her breasts as he placed the exquisite pearl and diamond necklace around her neck.
What would it be like to sleep with a man like him for one night? she thought in a moment of helpless longing.
Dangerous, her sensible side returned, giving her backbone a much-needed boost of common sense.
‘Like it or not, you’re going to wear this for me tonight. If we were in a normal relationship I would insist on it.’
Poppy watched as he fastened the clasp at her nape, a shiver chasing itself down her spine. If they were in a normal relationship she would want to wear it for him.
Ignoring that thought, she noted that despite her being in high heels he was still so much taller than she was, so much broader. She was unable to take her eyes from him; their gazes collided and held when he looked up. Green on blue. Blue on green.
Suddenly it was difficult to breathe and Poppy was gripped by a ferocious shock of sexual arousal so powerful she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to move. Instead she wanted to lean back into him and rub her check along his freshly shaven jaw. She wanted to turn her head, find his mouth and have him kiss her as he had done the night before.
A throbbing awareness rose up between them and Poppy was shaken to realise that his gaze was full of the same heat and fire she imagined was in hers. Everything inside her urged her to turn in his arms, place her hands around his neck and bury her fingers in his short, dark hair before pulling his mouth down to hers.
His words from the previous night came back to her once more.
‘If I was completely ruthless, I’d already have you upstairs. Naked.’
The tenor of the air thickened between them as if he too was remembering the same thing. Poppy couldn’t move to save herself and Sebastiano seemed equally as riveted as his searing gaze drifted down to where the pearl nestled between her breasts.
‘Sebastiano...’
His nostrils flared at her soft tone and, just when she thought he might reach for her, was desperate for him to reach for her, he stepped back.
‘We should go down before my grandparents send up a search party.’
‘Of course.’ He didn’t want her. Not like that. Fool!
She took a moment to smooth her hair back from her face. She had coiled it into what she had hoped was a sophisticated style, but now she felt awkward. Gauche.
‘Poppy—’
‘Yes, yes.’ She pinned a smile on her face and prevented any further comment by placing her hand in the crook of his arm, and propelling him from the room. She suspected he knew exactly what had gone through her mind and she didn’t want him to make some lame overture to make her feel better.
When they stopped at the top of the staircase Poppy threw him an enquiring glance. Tension radiated from him like a testosterone-driven force; a dark expression turning his features hard.
The murmur of voices and the clinking of glassware reached them, drawing her attention. Poppy felt her heart seize as a group of beautifully dressed guests entered the foyer, a white-coated servant draping jackets across his arm that most likely cost more than her yearly rent.
‘Why have we stopped?’ she asked. ‘Is everything okay?’